NYCM Prompts
Genre: Sci-Fi | Location: An oil rig | Object: A shark tooth
[Round 2: 5th place; progressed to Round 3]
Synopsis: What begins as an everyday supply run ends in the most explosive of ways.
The purple oceans of Nerthreen were wild and unforgiving. Two moons orbiting the planet fought daily; the high waves their soldiers, clashing mercilessly, submerging all but the highest smudges of land on this water world.
A small dark silhouette of a shuttlecraft momentarily crested the uppermost ridge of a monster wave before becoming a winged shadow, hurtling downwards. Skilfully, it angled towards the next monstrous breaker, harnessing the sheer power of the waves to propel its turbines.
Inside the shuttle, Cressin anticipated each jarring shudder with practised ease, his hands flying over the navigation controls. His passenger, on the other hand, flopped helplessly about in what was normally the co-pilot’s seat.
Cressin lifted one hand and tapped at the nerve behind his ear, activating the communicator which was integrated with his cerebral AI.
“Rig Delta Fiva Gamma.” He signalled one of the colossal oil rigs scattered across this expanse. Each one rose and fell with the tides, bracing against lashings of water and howling of wind, the thrum of their engines barely a whisper amongst nature’s cacophony. “Admit access: Cressin Raeva; supply runner. Identification: five four eight Bravo.” Security checks had increased in recent months due to threats from the so-called Resistance. A militant group who opposed the habitation of planets purely for mining resources. But who would want to inhabit Nerthreen on its own merits? No one.
A string of flashing lights illuminated the cockpit of the shuttle before a dull monotone reverberated through his head. “Recognised: Cressin Raeva, supply runner. Confirm number of persons.”
He monitored the various screens while his companion held his breath. As if that would do anything. Once Cressin had discovered that Reeshon did not subscribe to the use of a personal AI, he knew it would be simple to bring him to one of these rigs. The fully automated system relied solely on AI for identification; it was why all supply runners had one. “Confirm one person, Rig Delta Five Gamma.”
A short delay. “Access granted, Cressin Raeva.”
He tapped the communicator off and double-checked it was fully disengaged from the rig servers. There were strange rumours about these remote structures. They gave him the creeps, to be honest. Every supply runner in the system had their own story: of rig AIs accessing what should be private conversations, of the near misses that should never have happened, of a general sense of malevolence. It was why a supply run out here carried double the wages.
Luckily for Cressin, his courage could be bought.
So, too, could his integrity. Hence his agreement to the hefty sum offered to transport his unauthorised passenger, known only by the name of Reeshon. It was probably fake. Yet it was impossible to believe that this quaking nauseous man conveyed any sort of threat.
“We’ll arrive in a few minutes.”
Ashen-faced, the man shakily brought a small triangular-shaped bone to his lips, kissing it in a show of intense gratitude.
Cressin loosed a groan. “You didn’t actually buy a shark tooth from the port vendors, did you?”
Colour momentarily flushed the man’s face. “She insisted it guaranteed safe travels over the sea.”
Scoffing, Cressin punched in the navigation calculations provided by the burble of his personal AI. Not everyone appreciated the constant companionship of an AI, but on runs like this one, Cressin found the continuous stream of data reassuring. Maybe his AI wasn’t all that different from Reeshon’s shark tooth.
Still, he couldn’t help himself. “You do realise that no creature on this planet has teeth that small?” His reward was witnessing Reeshon’s complexion pale further.
He laughed beneath his breath as he completed the final manoeuvres into the shelter of the rig’s docking bay.
“Twenty minutes,” Cressin stated. “I don’t know what you think you’ll find, though.”
“An example.”
“Of what?”
But Reeshon hauled himself out of his chair, moving on unsteady legs through the shuttle. The technology of the ‘reen oils rigs was much coveted by other planets. Or so Reeshon claimed was the reason for his visit. That was probably fake, too. But what was the man going to do without even a personal AI to assist him?
Emerging from the shuttle onto the metal walkway, Cressin saw Reeshon had already located an interface outside the main maintenance access point. His face illuminated by the soft glow of the screen, Cressin was struck by the almost manic expression. By the man’s feet, he caught sight of the discarded shark tooth, having slipped from his grasp in his eagerness to access the interface, and now entirely forgotten.
“Cressin Raeva.” The familiar sound of his AI was replaced with that of the rig AI within his head. “Unauthorised access detected. Security protocols compromised.”
Alarms screeched all around. Clamping his hands over his ears, Cressin cowered at the onslaught of noise echoing around the docking bay. Somewhere, deep below, a shudder occurred.
“What–” He was interrupted by his AI garbling a list of survival percentages, none of which were over fifty. Horror washed over him. “Reeshon!”
The man did not even deign to glance up. His hands flew over the screen, countering the security restrictions which the rig AI put up, grim determination now etched across his face.
“Cressin Raeva. Safety protocols breached. Emergency evacuation recommended.”
Beyond the shelter of the docking bay, the ocean raged into a tempest, tossing the rig around like any piece of flotsam, sending Cressin sprawling against the walkway. He clung onto a railing in sheer desperation, feet scrabbling for purchase.
“Emergency broadcast!” He yelled, trusting his AI to activate it on command. “Catastrophic blowout on Rig Delta Five Gamma.” He panted, fighting against the devastating lurch of the rig. “I repeat: catastrophic–”
“Cressin Raeva.” The voice of Reeshon transmitting on the rig AI cut through his broadcast, and Cressin found that his own voice died in his throat. “No one can hear you.” Reeshon typed a final command into the interface. “But the Resistance thank you for your service.”
C.A. Raine 