Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
On the underside of The Tranquil Lady, I’m mostly protected from the wind, and the cold isn’t so bad. I unscrew panels on the hull, setting them down carefully in the thick snow before moving on to the next one. My diagnostic pad is telling me that everything in the engine is working just fine, which means that it’s wrong and I’m going to have to pull things apart and examine them, one by one, to determine what the problem is. I don’t mind working with my hands. Calms the roar in my brain. Just wish it wasn’t so cold. I get to work, carefully removing one part and setting it down, then another. A few of them are corroded in spots, which points to a leak somewhere. Maybe there’s not enough damage—yet—to cause things to stop working completely, but enough to cause the jerking in the accelerator, which is what concerned Trakan and the captain in the first place. I forget all about the cold after a few minutes of work, more interested in finding the problem and determining the extent of the damage.
“Holy kef, it’s colder than a tranki whore’s tits out here.”
Niri. I sigh inwardly. Gods love the old woman. She won’t leave me alone. Ever since I returned from my father’s funeral, she’s been hovering like she’s a mama zenda and I’m her spindly legged colt. “Under here,” I call out, because she’s going to find me anyhow. “Watch where you step.”
“All this snow,” Niri exclaims, and I hear her feet crunch on the ice. “Brr! Give me a regulated-temperature cabin any day of the week.” As I glance over, she picks her way across the parts-strewn snow under the ship and makes her way toward me. She has a sweater held tightly around her lanky frame, and the metal tips on her horns are icing up. I imagine mine must be coated, too. She’s got a breather on, at least.
“You’re not dressed to be out here,” I tell her, turning back to the next screw I’m carefully pulling out. It’s corroded as well, and looking a bit stripped. Damn. Captain’s going to blame me if this shit’s all rundown and busted. It’s my job to keep things in shape down here, and I’m wondering if I somehow missed something or if I’ve been too occupied to notice the poor state of the engine. Either way, I’m keffing ashamed.
“I won’t be out here long. I just came out to see how you’re doing.” She comes and stands next to me, shivering as she gazes around her. “How’s it look?”
“Not good.”
“That’s because you’re a pessimist,” she says crisply. “I’m sure you can fix it.”
I’m sure I can, too. “Eventually. There’s a leak in here somewhere. Hate that I missed something vital.”
She makes a noise of agreement. “It’s not like you to be sloppy, but you’ve had a lot on your mind.”
Here we go. I remain silent, focused on my task so I don’t have to think about what’s coming up.
“How are you handling things? You’ve been quiet today. Not that you were very talky before, but I’m a woman. I notice these things.”
Niri’s also old enough to be my grandmother, and twice as nosy. “Fine.”
She snorts, and I feel her thwack me on the side a moment later. “Don’t give me that shit. Before you left you were all wounded inside and strong outside. Since you came back, you’re just hollow all over. You wanna talk about it? Or about what’s bothering you today?”
“No.”
“Mardok, don’t be an asshole.”
I’m not. “That’s Trakan’s job. As for what’s crawled up my ass…I just don’t wanna be stranded.” Understatement.
“Fair enough. And Trakan’s an asshole because he’s got a girl back at spaceport and misses her.”
Does he? I didn’t know. I wonder if I should feel guilty. We’re a small crew—four strong—and we should be close. I should know if Trakan’s got a girl waiting for him. I did notice he’s been huffing carcinogels a lot more. “Mm.”
“You got someone waiting back at spaceport for you?”
“No one.”
“Well, that’s your problem.” Her crackling, imperious voice softens. “You’re lonely.”
I clench my jaw. I’m not lonely. Can’t be lonely when you crew on a ship as small as this one. Can’t afford it. I’ve been out on runs for months at a time. Never know when I’m going to be back somewhere for longer than a day or two, and that suits me fine. Haven’t been with a girl since I left the military. Prefer it that way, really. No one to make miserable while I’m gone. No one to stay up at night, terrified and weeping and wondering if I’m missing in action, like my mother worried about my father. I’ve got my hand when I’m lonely enough. It’ll do. “I’m fine.”
“Was the funeral nice? Did they shoot the coffin into space, or did you buy a plot on one of the moons?”