Entrance of the Gladiators (Julius Fučík)

Posted on Tue 21st May, 2013 @ 6:21am by

625 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: http://sb109.sim-station.net/index.php/sim/missions/id/4
Location: Cargo Bay 350, Deck 1300
Timeline: MD 0, 2200

"Hey, hey, watch that chapiteau!" exclaimed the train master as the anti-grav on the collapsible circus tent dipped low. "We can't afford to replace that!"

All around the cargo bay, which had been completely cleared for the use of the circus, circus performers, carpet clowns, roustabouts - in fact, anyone with two arms and legs - was unloading something, unpacking something, putting up something. Off in a corner, one group of women were putting up the costume tent, while another unpacked the costumes that would soon hang inside. Clown Alley was half-erected next to the costume tent, and beyond that, the animal shelters were being hooked up in long rows, and most of the circus ring stock was already housed.

The anti-grav cart delivered the main tent to the center of the cargo bay and it was unloaded by several roustabouts. The rings themselves were already laid out, because it was easier than bringing the pieces through the doors to assemble them. As the chapiteau was being raised, an entire crew was putting up the seating.

Two roustabouts dropped the cook shack on the floor of the bay and headed back to the ship docked just inside the huge doors to the bay. There were still many things to unload, not much time to do it, and not enough hands. Everyone was tired and getting more tired by the minute, but they had to have everything ready before going to bed. Tomorrow, everyone from horseback riders to coochie girls to clowns to aerialists would need practice time to limber up for the first show the evening of the same day.

"Get those hayburners housed!" someone called in the corner by the animal shelters.

Someone else yelled, "Who took the teeterboard?"

Standing near the train master, watching the work of his circus going up, the owner said, "This is a lot of work." There was activity going on in every corner of the bay, from the gypsy caravan housing to the small food midway to the equipment lockers. The two men stood in a calm island in the midst of chaos.

"It is, but it's the way we've always done it. If we want to ever get out of here and get back on the circuit, we have to sell a lot of tickets. How many people did you say live in this benighted backwater?" the train master asked him.

The owner shrugged, "This class starbase can hold 100,000, I've heard. How many there actually are at the moment, I couldn't say. We didn't have any choice. Running out of fuel and needing rescue is frowned on, and this is the only place we could reach that had a reasonable population."

He clapped the train master on the shoulder. "You worry too much, Raoul. Tickets will sell. These people are out on the edge of nowhere. We're the best thing they've seen in many a day."

"I hope you're right," Raoul muttered as the owner walked away. "You better be right."

Calling over a good looking young man, Terence Holloway, the train master gave him quiet instructions and sent him on his way. Selling tickets was all very fine, but it was only good business to have other sources of income available, and Terence was the best at reconnoitering a new place. He'd take a friend and go see what the station was all about. The friend would be camouflage for the real purpose - finding out who had something worth absconding with at the right moment.

"Stow that cook shack out of the way!" Raoul called to another pair of workers. "We can't have it out here in the middle of everything else. Use your head for something besides a place to park a clown nose!"

 

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