Intercom and Orbit

An abrupt static coated crackling wakes me. I nearly topple out of the pilots chair forgetting I propped my feet up on the control console before I nodded off. The sun outside the cockpit is in a different position than when I last saw it. I wipe my groggy eyes and look up at the holo-dash for the time.

"Damn, it's been four hours." I say to myself in a grumbled tone.

"Eos, open the cargo bay." A distorted, yet familiar, voice from the small speaker built into the wall says.

I turn my head and see a dimly lit red bulb next to the intercom indicating it's active. I reach my arm out to push the button just below the speaker while a yawn simultaneously forces my eyes shut.

My hand lands on the metal hull just next to the intercom as the captains voice comes through again, "Eos, open the cargo bay now." his tone more direct this time.

Jeez, don't get your panties in a bunch. I think. Obviously not something I'd ever say to his face. Not even in the dream I just woke from.

My hand pats around the wall a few more times before finally landing on the intercom response button. "I would love to, except nobody ever showed me how anything on this piece of—"

Before I can finish my sentence, a flurry of loud cracks ring out. Through the front view of the cockpit, I see bolts searing by. The ones I don't see slam against the hull, their impact reverberating through the ship. I duck instinctively, then realize I'm in no real danger as long as I'm inside and the blasters are out there.

From the aft, I hear the muffled sound of the rest of the crew shouting amongst themselves outside the ship. "I told you they saw us—", "Your big ass head—", "Well isn't this just great—", and "Fuuuuck" are a few of the phrases I can make out.

The red light illuminates on the intercom, "Eos, if you don't open this door in the next two seconds I'm going to shove your tiny ass in the—" The aggressive voice cuts out as abruptly as it came. That was definitely not the captain. I don't even want to guess what the rest of her sentence would have been. I know all too well that threats from her voice are always real. But damn, if I can't say it doesn't motivate me into action—mostly out of self-preservation.

I jolt out of the pilots chair and position myself in front of the control console. The commotion outside rises, echoing the quickening pace of my heartbeat. I glance across the sea of blinking lights. "What the hell is any of this!?" I say, gesturing flustered hands toward the board. These old ships don't automate much. Something the captain loves, for reasons I'll never understand. I partly think he just likes the idea of being the only one who knows how to fly this damn thing.

I lean over the controls and squint my eyes. My head shifts around to look for any semblance of the word open across the console.

Then, a glint of light catches my attention outside the cockpit. Through the windshield, I see a group of five men in tight formation, each one clad in silver, badass-looking space armor. Matching gold and green emblems adorn their shoulders and chests. They're carrying what, by all accounts, seem to be the biggest goddamn bolt blasters I've ever seen. And they're coming right for us.

"Oh, shit..."

In an instant, my hands hit the board. I feel the texture of every plastic button, every metal switch, every twisty twist knob beneath my palms as they scrape across the controls. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see lights flickering on and off outside the cockpit. Some miscellaneous confirmation pop-ups appear on the holo-dash. A siren goes off for a brief moment before transitioning to... "Dixie's Jazz Funk collection?" I read as the title scrolls across the screen. There's even a cool breeze blowing across my face now. I close my eyes with a slight smile. That's kind of nice, I think, in a brief moment of clarity.