The cold, deep, black of space, seeming to go on forever. Stars twinkle in the background. But still, it seems to be endless nothingness. The future is bleaker then any culture imagined. Space plagues and viruses made travel difficult. All who flew in space were always heavily quarintined wherever they landed. Some plagues killed their carrier, but, others did much worse. The Zeus Virus made you believe you were a god and made you power hungry and a mass murderer. The Rage Virus, turning you into a crazed psycho path, an unstoppable killing machine. But, perhaps worst of all, The Capturan Virus, that made you slowly turn inside out and even then, would sustain you for a week of endless pain.
Even with these obstacles in the way, space travel continues, but, only for very selective reasons. 1) Safety/Evacuation procedures, 2) War, and 3) Trade amongst planets. And, as comes with trade, so dose pirates, and crime. Trade ships run heavily armed, to stop from endless pirate attacks, as well as being attacked by other horrors from space. Pilots and crews of these trade ships are seen as hard, yet, courageous beings. Many parents tell their children exciting stories about pilots’ adventures. The truth is much less exciting. A trade ship crew spend 4 weeks in quarantine every time they land or take off. Deep space is a nightmarish hell world, but, manly in their own heads, always having to be so alert for danger, can send a being mad. But, as some see, with madness comes excitement.
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"Finally!" Exclaimed Halfeb as he went and sat in his pilots’ seat, "Out of quarantine." He gripped the flight controls. "Hello ladies." He said to them as he smiled. Halfeb was an anthro dingo. They were known for being a little sly and wild at times, and Halfeb didn't mind that at all. He has golden orange fur, like a sunset of an oxygen rich planet. Except around his eyes and the tips of his ears. There his fur was dark red, on his chest and stomach, his fur changed to white, this was a mark of significance in the dingo culture, but, that culture died out quite a long time ago. Halfeb wore long black cargo pants, a tight black singlet, black boots and a pair of goggles that he pulled down to navigate through highly bright areas of space, like nearing suns. He also wore a belt that had supplies on in case of crashing, but, that hadn't happened so far.
Halfeb looked at his display screens and checked the engine temps as the other members of the crew of The Spartan boarded, having just being cleared from quarantine too. The Spartan, although Halfeb thought of it like his own flesh and blood, actually belonged to the company that employed them. The Spartan teleported the most valued commodity in space. Something found on few worlds. On some planets it powered machines, but, most all machines need it. The most precious substance, water. The Spartan was heavily armed because of its precious cargo. The Spartan, other then its two turrets, which all the crew knew how to operate and have trained with, was fitted with two photon cannons and, and emergency EMP generator.
However, apart from its armoury, and the engine room, it had small living quarters, with five bunk beds and a bathroom, a small medical bay, and an eating/meeting area behind the cock pit. The other rooms branched off from the meeting/eating room. Looking at the cockpit from the meeting room and turning right, it was the turret ladder, living quarters, the exit and entrance to the ship, medical bay, armoury, engine room and then the second turret ladder. Behind the medical bay and armoury was a large container, where the cargo was stored. It was only accessible in the forms of viewing to make sure it was okay. Other then that, it was only accessible from the outside.
Halfeb relaxed in the pilots’ seat and sighed, "It’s good to be on my baby again."
A voice came from behind him, "Are you going to fly her or have sex with her?" It was the navigator, Kyle Jackson. He was a tall, thin skunk. He wore a black tank top with long black cargo pants. His hair was long and black with dark purple tips. His most distinguishing fiture however was his left eye. It was destroyed in a dog fight the Spartan was in several years back. It had been replaced with a cybernetic one. This however, has come in very handy as his eye contains the star maps of all the known systems. So he can keep a constant check on where they are.
Halfeb smiled, "Don't tempt me."
(Okay, so, a few members of the crew I need:- Co-Piolet, Arms specialist and Medical officer. Anything else you can think of, ask me and I'm more then happy to consider it.)
