Rover is Out.

Tarka:

He was adrift and the room slowly turned around him but he didn't try to snag 
a handhold or footrest. He was not like some newbie spacer that couldn't hold 
their gizzard without a good sense of placement. The air in the room was 
stale and thin, but the derelict still had enough air in her to make it 
comfortable in a first suit. He really wouldn't have minded the chill or 
darkness if not for the stink.
 
The tug had punched a lock through the hull of the ship; it didn't look like 
a critical part of the structure and was still under pressure. Only it had 
managed to punch that lock right through apple storage and into the galley. 
So all around him drifted half mummified and rotten applies.
 
His com hissed to life. "Whiskey Tango Fargo. Hey Rodger, I found myself 
another stiff log port side and do he look surprised! Shadow his inner thong. 
Looks like the others, he was sucking vacuum for a bit before the air turned 
on. Rover out." There was a soft hiss for a moment as the open circuit 
transmitted silence before it clicked off.
 
"Alright you fuzzy behind. Upload your sweet visual and let me tag this one 
DOA." A moment later a vid came up on his heads up showing Dodger's two 
forepaws holding down some poor dead stiff against the wall. He logged the 
mangled and partly mummified face for computer identification. "Alright 
Dodger, that's the limit of the air pocket so get back here before you catch 
a stranded tango delta."
 
Vassily:
 
Dodger moved back through the airlock onto the tug, spun the hatch seals and 
repressurized. He spun the ring lock at the base of his helmet and let it 
drift back into the rack. His gauntlets followed next and he hooked the web 
of netting back over the cubbyhole. His boots velcroed to the floor as he hit 
the release for the inner hatch.
 
Max looked down the tunnel from the comm cabin. "Who did you get fussed this 
time?" Dodger drifted along the tunnel, spinning slowly. "I don't know what 
you mean." 
 
"I mean Dodger, that this is our third G and R gig this month and it's only 
been two weeks. We don't even have the salvage contract for anything other 
than used meat."
 
"Max, what makes you think control is punishing us? Other than a hold full of 
what you so charmingly call used meat?"
 
WalksFar:
 
 "Wot would you call 'em?  They're dead . . . used meat is about it.  They've 
left it behind.  Anyway we get paid well enough.  People want their loved 
ones back for burial.  It isn't as if they could be used for anything 
remotely useful," said Max.  
 
"Yeah, we get paid.  It would be nice to get off recovery of dead bodies.  
The smell is starting to get to me."  Dodger secured the hold.  "Let's get 
them outa here and see what else they have in store for us . . . road kill, 
perhaps?"
 
Tarka:
 
Rover shot into the room and bounced off the far wall, paw flying outward 
before he landed over by Dodger. "Hey there! I'm glad I got that suit off! A 
dog can hardly scratch with one of them things over your fur. Gah!"
 
Dodger reached over and scriched rover's ears. Technically they were both 
company employees and technically this was fraternizing with another 
employee... but on a tight little tug like this technically didn't cut it 
anymore. "Ah, its alright. your job is harder then mine sense you actually 
have to scent out the siffies. Did you read the scedual yet?"
 
Rover eyed Dodger. "Wotfor I want to read something when we got you humans to 
do that for us? So what it say?"
 
Dodger rolled his eyes. "Looks like we got two more ships on the outswing. 
This area must ahve been hot during the war. Three blown ships in one swing. 
Next one looks big though."
 
Vassily:
 
"Try not to punch the hull on the next one, OK. I don't want to put on the 
heavy suit. Last one was bad enough. Apple apple apple apple dead man apple."
"The heavy suit looks good on you. Red is your color."
"Putz, I'm colorblind."
 
"Just yanking your chain fuzzball." He eased back into the control couch and 
started running the preflight checks. Switches got flipped, knobs got turned 
and lights flashed back and forth. Some amber, some green. "You want music? 
Be 4 hours til intercept?"
"Anything but country."
 
WalksFar:
 
 "How much room we got in the hold?  Are all the bodies secured for transit?" 
 Dodger settled into his seat.  "Remind me to run the boss's nose in the 
sludge at the bottom of hold three when we get back.  That puke is gonna take 
a month to clean up.  Whose idea was it to forget what was in there and turn 
off the friggin' refrigeration, anyway?"  He picked up a status report.  "Two 
thouseand forty-five in all. . . .  ONe more rendevoux.  That's it.  We're 
gonna be full."
 
Max settled in behind his console.  "Jeez!  This sector could keep is workin' 
for years."
 
"Yep," said Dodger with a nod.  "We won't be out here forever.  I mean, our 
tour is about up.  What could stop us from being called in . . . at last?  
Don't answer.  If ya do, it will!"
 
Tarka:
 
"Oh for fargo under christs kitties sake. What is that?" Dodger was looking 
at the long range vid as they approched the final ship in their sweep of the 
sector. On the screen was a misshapen blob at first look untell you reallized 
there were actually two ships. One terren distroyer, with an allian battlecrus-
er firmly implanted in its side.
 
"Pop me a good one Dodger." Rover was spinning slowly next to dodgers 
shoulder. "I think its a la battleship I do. Wot did you think it was? Some 
big alian crisco organic crispt kringgle? With the way its going after that 
terran distroyer I can almost agree with you."
 
Dodger only bearly missed Rover with his backhand, Rover having moved just 
out of range a momment before.
 
"No, I just think we might be really out of luck. That salvage looks like a 
real mess. Lucky for me you get to do most of the legwork." Dodger grinned at 
rover and the dog shivered. Nothing to say to that.
 
A couple of hours later they found an airlock on the far side of the 
distroyer and pushed their way in.
 
Vassily:
 
"Sensors read hard vac on most of the port side. Still has power in some 
areas though. Keep and eye out for rats and greys." Rover tapped his comm 
link with his jaw. "Thing's been out here months. You sure it still has some 
power?"
 
"Sensors might be lying, but I got thrum and hiss along starboard, fore to aft."
"Great, they only stay fresh in vacuum. Gonna have to ID from goo."
 
"Just run a survey Rover, I want to know how many before we try to shift 
cargo." 
 
"Will do." Rover connected the data tether to the panel on the inner lock and 
waited for the codes to cycles though before hearing the faint hiss of the 
seals cracking and depressurizing."
 
WalksFar:
 
 Fetid vapor hissed free, curiling in an odorous cloud and drifted into the 
vessel's inner locks.  The floor vibrated and the inner door slid back.
 
 "Oh Cripes!  We need dental records for this mess . . . Jeeze, wot a mess.  
 I need something to keep me from slipping."
 
 "What is it?  Dogdger manned communications.  "What's wrong?"
 
 "Wrong?  I'll tell ya what's wrong.  No hard vac on this side.  Air . . . 
Jeeze!  It's s'thick ya c'd swim in it.  The hall's littered with decomposed 
crap.  Hell . . . I can't tell what any of it was!  Wait . . . What's that?  
SHIT!  GAAAH!"
 
Tarka:
 
"Rover! Respong now!"
 
Dodger heard rovers little repeater go off in the distance and he would out 
of his crash seat with a larger bean gun in his hands. He dove down twoard 
the lock. "Rover, I will be there in a momment." The repeater went off a few 
more times in the distance.
 
He dove through the lock while hitting the emergancy open switch... There was 
no equalization and the fetid air of the other ship got into his... he was 
through the lock and into the mess in momments. He hit the other wall and 
stuck... looking both ways. There was no sign of Rover but there was a 
frishly deed looking lizard creature on the floor... bleeding into a the 
light much in the minor gravity. The place was still under a light gravity 
lense.
 
"Rover, respond?" He looked back and forth... nothing... then port side one 
of the lizards came around the coner... tail neatly bitten off.