Stranger Times

Why I Built This Pool (Smackdown Entry 3)

Author's note: The Challenge in this contest was to write a story about a water-hauling freighter in the 'Oort Cloud', just beyond the solar system, using a song prompt. The song above was what I had to work with.

Below is the result...

"Admiral Nelson, care to comment on why you're willing to characterize this project as 'such a waste'?" She asked, switching her contact-camera to record as she looked at the distinguished soldier.

As she looked at him, she let his biography filter through the side-scroll of the camera feed and highlighted a few of his more noteworthy achievements.

The phrases 'Hero of the Jovian Uprising', 'Youngest Admiral in Fleet History', and 'So Heavily Decorated his medals could make up a Dwarf Planet' flashed in the corner of her recording window next to his face, as he gave her a superbly photogenic scowl.

"I know what this project is being sold as, miss uh..."

"Melinda Woodward, New York Times," she replied, trying to keep the scowl off her face. This gaffe made the third time he had forgotten her name, and would need to be edited out.

Again.

"But at the end, when we finally complete the collection and make this 'pool', we'll be lucky if we don't kick-off another war with the Jovians," Admiral Nelson replied, his voice sounding remarkably weary. "I'm getting a little sick of having to knock them back to their moons, Miss Walters."

"Woodward," she said, not feeling the irritation she tried to put into the admonishment. The sullen soldier was sulking over this assignment, and would likely struggle to hear her over the howls of his wounded pride.

"Soldiers are such babies," Melinda muttered. To her surprise, the young Admiral's impressive scowl flinched, and he looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"You'll see what I'm talking about soon, miss Bernstein," Admiral Nelson promised, just as the elevator doors whisked open.

The sight waiting for her was a nearly unobstructed view of the massive new Ice Hauler. It's immense length of gleaming, turgid hull erected proudly into the dark, a formidable expression of the virility of humanity in the dawn of its interstellar age.

She smiled at the sight, even as Admiral Nelson slapped his hand to his forehead. "The damn thing even looks like a cock."

"It's the great fault of spaceship design, sir," someone said from just beyond their sight. A middle-aged woman in greasy overalls poked her head around the corner and waved when she made eye-contact with Melinda.

"Scalinda Edison, but everyone calls me Scotty. Chief engineer of The Morning Glory," the woman said, shaking Melinda's hand before offering it to the admiral.

Who looked at her with a glare that couldn't be more intimidating if it shot lasers. "Morning Glory? Please be kidding."

"What's wrong with it?" Scotty asked. Melinda was slightly confused to see the woman snigger between words.

"Do you know how long I spent with our corporate over-lady arguing about names? How she wanted to call it Woodie Richard?" Admiral Nelson exclaimed.

"Isn't that her father's name? Richard's Exploration is the company name," Melinda noted.

"Pride of a Man?" Admiral Nelson asked her.

"Probably a shot at you, sir."

"Hard and Fast?"

"He's both," Scotty said, pointing at the ship.

"Thrust in the Dark?"

"Technically what a ship does," Scotty defended, but to Melinda's surprise, the woman was giggling.