Outpost 1

Pig Run

        The Control Room - it was the heart of all operations at Outpost 1. It was the central hub of the entire station where  work orders,  dispatches, communications and rumors are first created. The position of Control Room Operator was a rotating job. It was often bestowed upon unwilling technicians/soldiers in one week increments. It was generally agreed that one week in the chair was all any normal human should  be exposed to. I suspect persons volunteering for longer stints were usually considered good candidates for a random drug test or a psychiatric reevaluation.

      The Operators chair itself was unspectacular to look at- a comfortable black well cushioned office chair with adjustable arms not unlike the ones found in our private offices but somehow sitting in THAT central seat in the Control Room, it just gave you power. The Operator was largely responsible for the entire station(unless the station commander would step in during a military operation). It was the throne of a temporary king who's career could easily be compromised by a single bad decision. Only a chosen few actually enjoyed it. But then there was always a sick puppy in every litter?

       Around me the technicians spoke in low tones and sipped coffee from steaming white Styrofoam cups. The late night poker players and insomniacs were leaning against the back wall trying not to fall asleep while standing. Their eyes were bloodshot and half closed. Young Shane was wearing a dark brown hoodie to cover his eyes from the overhead lights and the world in general. Every now and then you could catch the boss checking the time on the wall clock. Stragglers began filling the room at 6:14 forming a human wall that seemed to block the doorway. The morning meeting was almost never late it started at 6:15 sharp.

        Like clockwork the nighttime Control Room Operator cleared his throat loudly and stood up to get our attention. He began by describing the mundane details of the night just ended. Minor details covering missing support bolts and a temporary mechanical breakdown of a pump were discussed before he handed control of the meeting to our larger than life Senior Technician -Smokey King.

      Smokey leaned his elbows down on one of the long counters which encircled the Control Room desks. He had an opinion on just about any subject known to man and wasn't afraid to share them. His humor and well known good nature  was always sufficient to cover the occasional verbal indiscretions which might have ended the careers of a less charismatic man. Standing a little straighter he adjusted his glasses and held the official daily report at arms length as he chose the topics he deemed of most interest to us.

        "We have reports from Outpost 5 that Security suspects local mine workers  have been breaking into their food pantry. No major damage yet, but, security rounds have been greatly  increased. Nobody better mess with those doughnuts ! " he added jokingly.

      Turning his attention back to the report he continued- "Video recordings of increased rebel activity and sabotage are being reported at Trickle Mines down on Mars .....And...all the other points on this sheet are ....pretty minor. Oh..... Before I forget there is one important thing we all need to know. Melinda has determined that the meteor shower she spoke of last week is headed our way and IS expected to hit later this afternoon around 6 is that right?" he asked looking about.

        Melinda was the soft spoken resident scientist who treasured privacy almost as much as Smokey loved cigars. Forced into the spot light she cautiously stepped out from the corner of the room her hands nervously rubbing together for warmth and  reluctantly she spoke.

        "Yes 6 PM!  So....... some of these meteors are of indeterminate size  ......they are capable of damaging most of the exposed  equipment out in the work yard ....the expected window of time it will hitting Phobos is about 5-6 hours .............it should be treated as a priority 3 situation." she paused quietly a little unsure of what else needed to be said.