Chapter 2
MARDOK
“Ican’t believe we gotta set down here. Do you know where the kef we are?” Trakan snarls, sticking another carcinogel between his lips and lighting it. His foot taps angrily on the floor of the main deck.
“You’re the navigator,” I tell him, keeping my tone slow and unconcerned as I scroll through screen after screen of error codes. “That’s your job.”
“Kopan Keffing VI,” he snarls, and I can hear the angry smack of his fingers against his input station as he types. “Uninhabited keffing snowball of a planet, that’s what it is.”
“Better than Kopan V,” Captain Chatav says, unruffled as he gazes out the monitors into space. “We’d be crispy if we landed any closer to that binary star. We’re lucky to be this far out.”
Trakan snorts and gets to his feet, storming off the bridge.
Chatav isn’t concerned. He swigs his tea and regards the screen, lit up with engine diagnostics.
Not much ruffles the captain. Not after serving half his life in the military and being shipped out to conflict after endless conflict.
To him, this is probably cake and not an emergency. “You can fix this, Vendasi?”
“Probably,” I tell him. “Might need to take the engine or the matter drive apart, but I’m positive I can at least patch us to the next spaceport if nothing else.
And call me Mardok.” Being called by my surname reminds me of my time in the military, and I’d rather not think about that shit. Not today. Not any day, really.
Today, though, I’m trying not to panic. I don’t like that we’re stuck here. I don’t like being stranded. Not one keffing bit.
The captain nods at my response. “See to it then, Vendasi. I’ll be in my quarters if you need me.”
I don’t correct him again. Been working with the captain for three years now and he still calls me Vendasi.
Guess you can’t take the military out of him, even after all this time.
It’s a game between us, one that’s been going on for a long time.
I tell him what to call me, and he calls me whatever the kef he pleases, because he’s the captain.
Most days I find it amusing. Today, it just irritates me.
But I suck it up and do my best to not let it eat at me.
Been down that road too many times. Let the small things get to me and I’ll never get my head calm.
So I nod at the captain and grab my diagnostic pad. Everyone else gets to relax while we wait, but I get to work. Lucky me. I click a button on my console and lean in to give the order. “Computer, initiate landing.”
It’s not the matter drive. I figure that out about three hours into the diagnostic.
That’s a good thing, because if the matter drive is busted, we’re straight up keffed.
So if it isn’t the matter drive, has to be the engine.
The good news is that I can likely fix the engine.
The bad news is that I have to take it apart to see which parts are failing, and that means going outside onto Kopan VI.
In a way, I’m kind of looking forward to it.
Spent the last few weeks on a medic station before returning to The Tranquil Lady, and before that, spent the last few years in space.
Spent most of my time back in the military riding shuttles and at base stations, with a few ugly exceptions.
Getting out in the open sounds kinda nice.
According to my info-feed, the atmosphere’s breathable.
There are a few bad elements that need to be filtered out, so I clip an air-gen to my nose and wait for it to kick in.
Once it does, I breathe deep. Amazing how something so small can even cut away the dank, metallic smell of the ship.
I suck in another breath or two, then grab my di-pad and my tools, and hit the button for the hatch.
It creaks open, ice cracking off and falling away as the hatch door slides back. A blast of frigid air hits me in the face, and I immediately shut the hatch again with a slap of my hand over the button.
Kef. That is cold outside. I’m shocked that my regulating jumpsuit isn’t able to handle the temperature. Feels colder than deep space, though I’m not sure that’s possible.
I swallow the uneasiness I feel. We’re not stranded, I remind myself.
It’s an easy fix. The ship isn’t critical, just has a minor problem.
You can fix this. I retreat backward into the ship, flexing my artificial arm.
The metal can handle extreme temperatures, but it still feels colder than the rest of my body.
I clench my fist over and over again, expecting to hear a creak in the metallic joints, but there is nothing.
There never is. Flexing my hand, I head over to the gear station in the bay and suit up against the environment.
I leave off a helmet—it’s not necessary and I like for my eyes to be unobstructed while I work.
Niri has a scarf left in here, since she claims her neck gets cold in enviro-suits.
I wrap it around my exposed neck, ignoring the fact that it’s bright pink and yellow.
It’s warm, and that’s all that matters. Once I’m dressed, I slap the door hatch again and close my eyes, bracing against the bone-jarring cold.
Guess I don’t have to wonder about why this place isn’t inhabited.
Not only is it in the middle of keffing nowhere, but it’s also so cold it makes your cock freeze off.
I hunch against the brutal wind and head out, tools in hand.
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.”