Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
ELAINA
The rhythmic clanking of atmospheric pumps working in overdrive filled the air in Chevron’s industrial district, echoing off the massive metal walls that bordered the lower half of the city. Dust from the nearby mines blew in waves, mixing with oil and fuel particles, settling across all surfaces in a stubborn layer of grime. The thick air buzzed with something more than just the impending storm.
Tuskin had sent her there to help repair the pumps that had been on the fritz. Earendel had its own breathable atmosphere, but the oxygen levels were too low for comfort. Only the multigeneration natives could comfortably live out in the tribal lands for any significant period of time. Most of the planet’s sparse population stayed in Chevron, because Chevron had the pumps.
“Shit!” a voice barked to her left, followed by the sharp clatter of metal hitting stone.
Elaina turned her head, spotting a worker slamming his fist into the side of a broken-down conveyor unit. The transport line behind him was backed up with crates in a tangle of disarray. It wasn’t just frustration etched into his face—it was fear. He caught her eye for a split second before crouching to inspect the damage, his gaze darting away too quickly.
Elaina shoved her hands deeper into her pockets and kept moving, trying to shake off the unease. She should be happy. People were finally understanding that something was wrong. She’d felt it for segments, and finally, she wasn’t alone.
But she felt so useless. She was trying—really trying—to get a grip, but the universe seemed determined to test her patience. She’d been sent to the district to patch things and instead found herself relegated to hauling tools around for less experienced technicians, ones who at least didn’t ruin everything they touched.
Elaina stopped at a small stand to get a glass of shaved ice, glancing around the street as she waited. More than one person threw uneasy glances her way, lingering a moment too long before averting their eyes.
The vendor handed her the ice, but just as she reached for it, the glass slipped from his prosthesis and shattered at Elaina’s feet. She stepped back quickly, avoiding the shards. He cursed under his breath, shaking his head, his face flushed as he examined his hand, flexing the double-jointed fingers.
“Sorry ‘bout that. Seems like nothing’s workin’ right lately,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze as he bent to sweep up the shards.
Elaina’s stomach twisted, the unease coiling tighter inside her. The tech around her seemed to be rejecting her outright. Shorting out the second her fingers even grazed the surface, as if it knew something she didn’t.
The memory of her failed attempts back in her hab haunted her—a mess of wires and components that had once obeyed her hands but now lay useless, defiant .
A crowd of workers had gathered ahead, clustered around a kiosk where the city’s primary data terminal stood. The screens strobed, glitching with bursts of static, while a group of engineers fussed over the exposed panels. One of them looked up, caught sight of Elaina, and immediately leaned in to whisper something to his colleague. She didn’t need to hear the words. She saw it in the way their shoulders tensed, in the wary look they threw her way.
Shit. Everyone knew just how messed up she was.
Elaina quickened her pace, trying to outrun the whispers that clung to her like a second skin. She turned a corner, and the distinct sputter of a pack hound stalling out made her stomach lurch.
A technician, elbow-deep in the guts of a supply transport, shook his head in disbelief. “This thing was just working fine an hour ago,” he muttered to his partner, who threw an uneasy glance over his shoulder—right in Elaina’s direction. She hadn’t touched that. So it couldn’t have been her. Could it? Or was her mere proximity enough to mess things up now too?
What is wrong with me?
The question hung in her head like an accusation she couldn’t escape, gnawing at her from the inside. It wasn’t just bad luck or a coincidence—it felt personal. Every broken piece of machinery, every sidelong glance, all of it pointed back to her, as if the universe had singled her out and she was the reason everything was crumbling.
Elaina stood in front of Tuskin’s desk, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The office was a mess of dataslates, tools, and half-finished schematics. Usually she found comfort in the clutter—its chaotic consistency, the evidence of things being built, things being patched. But today, everything felt different.
Tuskin sighed up at her from his seat. His hooded eyes were softer than she wanted them to be.“Elaina, you know you’re one of the best techs we’ve ever had here. I don’t think anyone else coulda done half of what you have in this place.”
She could feel it, what was coming.
“But you need a break,” Tuskin said the words she’d been expecting. “A long one.”
Elaina tightened her arms, fingers digging into her sides. “You’re right. A vacation. I’ll take a span off.”
Tuskin shook his head, leaning back in his chair. He looked tired. “I think you need more than a span. You’re pushing too hard. You’re making mistakes—mistakes that I know you wouldn’t be making otherwise.” He paused. “Whatever happened to you up in orbit, it… I shouldn’t have pushed you to take that extra shift. It burned you out.”
Elaina swallowed hard, a knot tightening in her throat. “So… what? You’re benching me?”
She saw something in his eyes that she never wanted from anyone, ever. Pity. “I’m tellin’ you to take care of yourself. A replacement is gonna cover for you till you’re ready to come back.”
“Who?”
But of course she could guess. There was only one other astrotechnician who had recently become available. “Right,” she muttered. “Konstantin. That makes sense.”
“It’s not permanent, Fairan.” Only it sounded very permanent indeed.
Elaina nodded automatically. She understood, completely. And that was the worst part. She had been fucking up for spans. She wasn’t the person Tuskin had relied on anymore, and she didn’t know how to be that person again.
For the first time in her life, everything she was good at was slipping through her fingers. Her hands were useless. Her life was coming apart, and she didn’t know how to stop it.
“Right.” She cleared her throat and straightened her spine. “How long do I have?”
Tuskin sighed. “Take at least a quarter-cycle. We’ll be here when you’re ready.”
Elaina nodded again, her gaze drifting to the window. The sunlight outside seemed blinding, too bright against the dull interior of the office. It was a light that promised something distant and clean, something far away from here.
“I understand.” She pulled herself together into a polite smile.
Tuskin opened his mouth, but Elaina didn’t want to hear any more. No need to make this anymore awkward on either of them.
As she stepped into the main garage, she looked over the large space. She inhaled the wafts of hot metal and ozone that had always felt like home. The hum of calibrators, even the faint burnt tang of circuitry—all of it taunted her.
She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t stand the thought of watching someone else do her job, having to make up for her incompetence.
The decision formed in her mind, sharp and sudden. She needed to leave. She needed to go somewhere far away, where this weight pressing down on her could lift. A clean slate would help her move on and get herself back again.
Konstantin was at one of the workbenches, head down as he adjusted a component, his movements precise and steady. He glanced up as she passed, his eyes catching hers with a knowing glint .
“Hey, Fairan,” he grinned smoothly. “You know, if you’re free now, maybe you’d want to grab a drink later? Celebrate my big promotion?”
Elaina stopped, bristling at the sheer nerve of the man. He was replacing her, and he knew exactly what that meant to her.
But that didn’t matter anymore. She was leaving, and already her upcoming freedom was making her problems on Earendel seem so transient and unimportant.
“Yeah, sure,” she said. “Why not?”