Slow Loga

1. Auflage 2025
ISBN: 978-615-82790-0-0
Verlag: PublishDrive
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection

E-Book, Englisch, Band 1, 210 Seiten

Reihe: Just a story

Just a Story #1 - Loga

The crew of the IL-4-Cow cargo freighter gains two new members. One of them is a thin, quiet fifteen-year-old boy who only speaks when spoken to. The others think they know what that means. His name is Loga. Born on Trilunnis. With no home to return to.

Loga runs. Not as a hero. Not as a traitor. Simply as a human being. Sometimes he runs willingly, with joy. Other times he runs because he has no choice. Often, he doesn't even realize he's running. Those who've seen too much-who know too much-are often forced down that path.

He travels the galaxy, completing tasks, gathering knowledge, making friends, and discovering love. Along the way, the boy becomes a man, and for a moment it seems his life might finally fall into place-until the past he thought he'd left behind comes crashing back.

In a world where silence often speaks louder than words, Loga's story may be just one among many.
But perhaps it is the one that matters most.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Slow, L. A.

Weitere Mitwirkende

Kovács, László

Leseproben

IL-4-Cow Container Transport Ship

"Welcome aboard!" came the loud greeting as the inner airlock hissed open, releasing a faint burst of cool air. Two people stood waiting to receive them. One was a fit, sharp-featured woman in her forties, standing with rigid posture. She had dark, shoulder-length curly hair and was wiping her hands on a rag, which she half-stuffed into her pocket before stepping forward and offering her right hand.

"March Mancini, owner of the IL-4-Cow," she introduced herself.

"Alfons West, pilot. Pleasure to meet you!" said the muscular young man, stepping up and grabbing her outstretched hand.

"I hope those hair ornaments aren’t magnetic," the owner remarked, unimpressed by his charming smile.

"They’re not," Alf said, running a hand through his hair with a sheepish grin. "Honestly, they’re just leftovers from the farewell party."

"Can you remove them?" she asked—her tone leaving no doubt it was a command.

"Of course." He stammered the words.

"Do it before you get yourself scalped," she said flatly. "And kindly keep the magical sunglasses somewhere else. As far as I know, you don’t require accessories. Is that correct?"

"Yes, ma’am… miss… captain…" Alf muttered, his face reddening as he yanked off his glasses.

"And you?" Mancini turned to the other new arrival, who had remained at strict attention. Palms pressed to the seams of his trousers, he stood beside what seemed to be an empty duffel bag.
"My name is Loga, ma’am," he said, bowing his head slightly but gripping her offered hand with quiet firmness.

"Just Loga?" the woman asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes, ma’am," the boy replied curtly.

"Fair enough," March Mancini said. "You’re the one from Trilunnis. Good. But there’s no need to stand at attention—we’re not the army."

She gave a satisfied nod, then, after eyeing her new crew members once more, continued her briefing.

"You’re both young enough to be my kids, so I won’t embarrass you by insisting on first names—at least not for now. You may call me ‘ma’am,’ ‘madam,’ or ‘captain.’ I earned that title in the civilian sector. If you’d like—assuming you haven’t already—you’re welcome to verify that, just like you can verify that I’m listed in the ship’s registry as the owner. Which means that for the foreseeable future, I’ll be your employer. Your duty schedules and assignments will be handed out by your senior shift partner. I’ll say this upfront: no appeals—but constructive suggestions and useful observations are welcome. Understood?"

"Yes!" they answered in unison.

"Good," she replied with a cold smile. "Behind me is my excellent colleague, Mr. Salty. He’s our logistics officer—our cargo master. As of today, Loga, you report directly to him."

The man introduced as Salty had been standing in the background with his hands in his pockets. Now he stepped forward and shook hands with both of them—his grip firm, his smile dry.

"Well then," Mancini said, "that’s enough socializing. I’m heading to the control room. Salty will show you to your quarters. We’ll meet at dinner—you’ll meet the rest of the crew then."

After the captain strode off with her usual firm, resolute steps, Salty leaned toward them with a grin and muttered, "Don’t freak out, boys. The captain’s cool. Sure, she starts off all tough… then it only gets worse. Just kidding!" he added with a laugh, catching the look on Alf’s face.

"Grab your gear, I’ll show you your cabins. And feel free to call me Salty—I don’t bite."

Salty headed off in the same direction the captain had gone, and Alf and Loga followed, their duffel bags slung over their shoulders. They left the boarding area behind—evidently part of the cargo hold as well, judging by the stacks of pallets nearby. They turned right, trailing after Salty, whose laid-back attitude was the perfect counterbalance to the captain’s formality. He walked with a slight hunch, both hands buried nearly to the elbows in the pockets of his uniform-style coveralls.

Following the painted floor markings, they stayed on the path toward the control room for a while, until their easygoing guide came to a stop in the corridor.

"These’ll be your cabins," he said, gesturing around. "The one closer to the control room’s Alf’s. Loga, that one’s yours." Once the doors were unlocked, Alf immediately started checking out his assigned space, unpacking with practiced, confident motions. Loga, on the other hand, stood still in his cabin, seemingly unsure what to do. "What’s up? Not happy with the view?" the logistics officer asked with a smile, noticing the boy still holding his duffel bag.

Loga glanced around the small, windowless room in confusion. Aside from the fold-down bed, there was a small table with a matching chair and a wall-mounted ultrasonic hygiene unit. After carefully inspecting the space, he turned to Salty.

"Where will the other beds be? I only see one," he asked, his voice uncertain as he tried to explain his hesitation.

"Other beds?" Salty repeated, staring at him in surprise. "This is a single-occupancy cabin. No roommates." Then, catching the young man’s expression, he added with a teasing grin, "What, you think we’re bunking you with the captain?"

"No, but it’s just…" Loga hesitated, arms spread slightly, still clutching his duffel bag in one hand.

"You’re acting like you’ve never had a bed to yourself before," Salty said, his patience starting to wear thin. "How many people do you think can fit in a six-square-meter cabin?"

Loga awkwardly placed his bag in the corner and stepped closer to Salty. Just then, Alf—now free of his hair accessories—joined them, muttering under his breath as he peeked into Loga’s room. "Well… this isn’t exactly a wellness retreat."

"No," Salty agreed with a slow nod, "but you’ll be happy once you see the gym."

"Yeah?" Alf perked up. "What makes you think I’ll be happy?"

"Forget it," Salty replied with a dismissive wave. "Now head to the control room and report to April."

"April?" Alf whispered excitedly to Loga, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "There are girls on board."

The would-be pilot turned and followed the markings with confident steps, heading toward the control room.

"Loga, you’re coming with me," Salty said to his new subordinate. "Tell me—that red tone on your skin... it’s not contagious, is it?"

"No, sir. It’s just a side effect of a vaccine," Loga replied.

"All right. Let’s go. I’ll explain your duties along the way." He paused for a moment. "Say, do you know how to handle a jetpack?"

"Yes, sir!" Loga answered.

"Any fear of space?" came the next question.

"No, sir!"

"Well then, your responsibilities are starting to come into focus," Salty said, with a hint of genuine relief.

"Awaiting your instructions, sir," Loga replied, snapping to attention.

"Okay, but lose the ‘sir’ stuff. Just follow me—I’ll show you the ropes."

Salty started walking toward the aft section of the ship, and Loga followed in silence, carefully observing his surroundings.

"See this?" Salty said, stopping beside an info panel. "The crew section is in the ship’s front fifth—that’s where your cabin is. You’ll see the shared areas later. For now, we’re heading into the interior cargo zone. You’ve already seen part of it—we docked through here. As you probably know, we’re in the freight business. A smaller portion of the cargo—mainly pallet-mounted items—is stored in the inner hold. We move them on a track system in zero gravity and lock them with magnetic clamps.

The loading process goes like this: we tow the packages handed over by the feeder transport onto the rails using a tether, position them, and then comes the ‘clunk.’ Loading order is critical—plan ahead so we don’t waste time unloading later. That’s where the cargo planning software comes in handy.

Handling containers is simpler: we tow them into position outside and secure them in place. Once we reach the destination, we just release them and push them away from the ship. Cargo transfer is pretty flexible. In practice, it means we coordinate with our contracted partners about when and where to receive or drop off shipments. If someone shows up, we do the handover the traditional way. If not—and that’s more common—we leave the shipment at the agreed location. The containers are equipped with beacons, so the recipient can find them easily and, with the proper credentials, retrieve them.

During loading, your job will be to get the shipments to the ship. You’ll be issued a rocket-equipped spacesuit. You fly over to the cargo, hook up the towing cable in the right spot, and monitor it until it’s secured. I’ll be waiting at the external docking point in an exoskeleton loader and take care of locking it down. If multiple containers arrive at once, someone else will help out on the other side of the ship with a similar setup. But for now, your only job is to fly. Over three thousand containers might sound like a lot, but don’t worry—we don’t handle them all at once or one by one. Unloading is usually easier. You head out, release the clamps, and push the cargo away from the ship."

"So I get to fly?" Loga asked, having stayed quiet until then, clearly excited by the possibility.

"Well, if you want to call it flying…" Salty shrugged. "But what’s with the enthusiasm? You wanted to be a pilot as a kid?"

"No, it’s not that," Loga replied, lowering his...