star shitizen

The thud of the docking rings connecting halts the ship, jerking me forward slightly. I've already suited up.  Helmet's pressurized,  cutter's primed and leaning against the wall near the airlock, and my suit computer poised to play my "scrapping" playlist.  I've docked with what looks to have been a large freighter.  Four heavy-duty TR12 engines in the back, two on each side. There's chunks taken out of the hull leading up to where the bridge used to be, leading me to assume someone fired a silo of dumbfire missiles haphazardly along the length of the ship. Something tore this hulk in half.  Torpedoes, probably.  Must've been quite the sight to see.  

 

After picking the cutter up off the table, I head into the airlock.  Depressurization takes about a minute and a half this time.  Last time it took just under a minute.  Shit, gonna have to look into that.

 

I press a button on my forearm and the smooth sound of Sergio Mendez's Scarborough Fair fills my ears, and I calmly walk into the wreck.  First thing I do is saw into a junction box on the wall, sending sparks and metal everywhere.  I didn't check to see if it was open, usually they've been either melted or frozen shut, depending on which side is facing the sun. My helmet light only does so much to pierce the thick air of dust and metal shavings welled up by the cutter, so I throw a flare out into the darkness.  It cruises through the debris for a bit before slamming inaudibly against a wall.