Chapter 40 #2
It was several minutes, but the door eventually slid open, revealing an older man, maybe somewhere in his sixties.
His slicked back hair was as white as my own, though also streaked with various shades of grey that colored both his crown and his short but thick facial hair.
I wasn’t sure if he was Station born or if he was simply at an age that most people lost the pigmentation of their hair, though the heavy creasing in his facial features implied the latter.
His two blue eyes moved in a way that was distinctly mechanical, so I couldn’t say if that was his natural color or an augmented one chosen in transplant.
That style of ocular cybernetics had long since been retired for more hyper realistic and organic looking models, but I’d seen them often enough around the station from the old timers who had taken different wounds in prior wars.
Outside of his gruff appearance, he was dressed in a robe with the sleeves rolled up, revealing surprisingly strong arms for someone who otherwise looked weathered and weary.
“When did the Academy start letting its dogs play in the streets so late at night?” He grumbled to the tone of someone who had been begrudgingly woken from quality sleep.
“I missed you too, Lochlan.” Elio looked unusually nonthreatening as he spoke. “Mind if I stop in for a couple hours?”
Lochlan, I presumed, raised a brow. “What kind of trouble are you hiding from tonight?”
“Bored enforcers who don’t appreciate recreational bar brawls.” Elio waved it off.
Lochlan accepted that answer for some reason, then he leaned out his door and looked down the alley as the bright red and blue lights of enforcers blurred by on the main road.
He nodded, then hit a panel that opened a vehicle sized entryway.
As Elio turned back to slide his bike into the garage, Lochlan’s lightly glowing mechanical eyes fell on me.
“I never thought I’d see a day that you found someone who could tolerate you. Who’s your friend?” He looked at me with a jovial sort of curiosity.
“Vann—” I started to say.
“Mishka,” Elio said at the same time, overriding my introduction. “He’s a fellow Shinka pilot.”
I might have been mad about the nickname, but hearing him introduce me as ‘a fellow Shinka pilot’ made my heart skip an entire stanza.
“Interesting.” The old man eyed me up and down, but he didn’t elaborate on that. “Well you and…”
“Vann,” I supplied, before Elio could interrupt me again.
“You and Vann can stay until things calm down,” he said, putting an odd emphasis on my name, as if it was an alias. I wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, but I wasn’t going to ask either. I simply went along with the plan and followed Elio inside.
While from the alleyway the building had looked nondescript and run down, inside it was a chaotic whirlwind of metal and machines.
Pieces of Shinkas were scattered about, with everything from welding equipment to machining tools covering every square inch of real estate along the walls.
It was the packed shop of a disorganized mechanic who had been collecting projects for decades, yet I found a pleasant familiarity in the soothing smell of synthetic oils and the soft hum of electricity that created the ambience.
Maybe it was because I grew up on a space station and liked to hang out at the research lab with my mom, but there had always been something innately comforting about a mechanic’s workshop to me.
“I’ve got an early delivery, so we can catch up in the morning. But for now, you know where the guest room is,” Lochlan huffed, before he headed back to the attached living quarters in his rather large shop.
Elio waved me over to another door, where he punched in a code to grant access.
I followed him into the unexpectedly large and high vaulted room on the other side.
There, I found myself gaping in awe at a massive, unpainted mechanized battle unit, far removed from any Shinka I’d ever seen before.
It was simplistic in some ways, but more complex in others, with a smooth helm, large rounded shoulders, and central core that glowed a soft aquamarine in the low light of the shop.
It had more in common with a Shinka than a Ghul, but it was notably slender and compact in all of its armor, creating a narrow and sleek silhouette.
“What is this?” I asked, gawking at the behemoth.
“It’s a prototype.” Elio continued walking, unmoved by the grandiose metal monster, not so much as glancing at it as we passed. “Lochlan is… an inventor, you could say. I’ve known him a long time. You can trust him.”
“An inventor?” I couldn’t take my eyes off the thing, to the point I hit into Elio’s back by accident when he stopped walking and I failed to. “Is this legal? Or is he military?”
“He was.” He dismissed the question. “But I don’t think you have much of a leg to stand on when it comes to doing things legally, so if you need me to give you a concussion to help you forget you saw this, let me know, and I’ll be happy to oblige.”
“N-no, that won’t be necessary.” I laughed sheepishly, taking one last lingering look at the prototype machine, before Elio brought me through another door.
This room was much smaller—little bigger than a supply room, really—and it had a makeshift bed in the corner comprised of a twin mattress on the floor with mismatched blankets and pillows.
The walls were covered in old image display boards, faintly projecting depictions of early Shinkas and various models of light cycles, while a telesphere sat on the floor in one corner.
“This was my old neighborhood,” he said. “I’ve hid out here more than a few times.”
“Was Lochlan your foster parent?” This was so clearly the room of a young Elio, it was cute, honestly. Things I never thought I would say…
Elio snorted at the question. “Would have been better if he was.” He shook his head, the smile on his lips a touch melancholy.
“But no, he was just a friend. Whenever I got in trouble or needed to get away, this was where I would go. Lochlan caught me trying to steal some parts out of the alley one night to pawn for some credits, then he forced me to work for him to pay off my debt and ‘learn some discipline.’” He punctuated with finger quotes and an eye roll.
“He’s the one who taught me to turn a wrench. ”
“I see.” This was… unexpectedly personal and intimate. Elio did still hate me, right? So why did he bring me here? Was it just because he needed a place to hide, and it was convenient? I couldn’t help thinking this wasn’t something I was supposed to see.
“Anyway…” He sat down on the one small bed that was little more than a cushioned mat covered in blankets on the floor, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “We can crash here tonight.”
I tilted my head to the side in confusion. “But there’s only one bed.” I pointed out ever so brilliantly.
“There’s also only one room, so I’m not going to be sleeping.
You can have the bed though.” He patted the blanket, and for some reason I took the invite.
He seemed to relax as I sat beside him, and I didn’t know what to make of that either.
Maybe we were both a little off tonight.
He’d had more to drink than I did, and I doubted he was a heavy weight, considering his body fat percentage was somewhere around ‘just enough to live.’ He didn’t exactly strike me as a big time party guy.
He didn’t have the social skills, for one.
“Are you sure?” I asked, feeling a bit guilty at the thought of taking the only bed in his childhood room. “I could probably take a pillow and a blanket and sleep on the floor somewhere else.”
“Am I sure?” Elio half scoffed and half laughed. “I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t. You really are fucking insufferable, you know that?”
“And you’re an asshole,” I supplied, since we were apparently back to insulting each other.
“But you held your own pretty well tonight,” he added, unexpectedly breaking the insult combo. “Maybe you can throw a punch after all.”
“After sparring with you, everyone else feels pretty ‘pathetic’ by comparison.” I laughed at his favorite, most condescending adjective, like it was going to be our inside joke.
“I keep thinking I’m weak, but it turns out I’m just comparing myself to the wrong people.
Put me in with the civilians, and I’m not half bad.
” My grin and self-praise earned me a raised brow.
“You are weak.” Elio placed a hand atop my head, and I flinched, only for him to simply ruffle my hair.
He then pulled up a corner of the mattress, where he came up with a half empty bottle of an amber liquid.
He swirled the liquid around the bottle, then uncapped it and took a sip.
He shuddered as it rolled down his throat.
“But even if you punch like a fucking girl, I’ll still give you a cheers and congratulations on making rank. You earned it.”
My cheeks heated, trying not to read too much into that, as he handed me the bottle.
I hesitated for a moment before I worked up the courage to take a sip of my own.
The vile tasting liquid had notes of cinnamon and rubbing alcohol, and it burned the whole way down.
I involuntarily choked on the viciousness of it.
That was nothing like the pleasant drinks I’d had at the bar.
“By the stars, what the fuck is that?” I managed as the liquid bloomed heat through my whole damn soul.
“It’s a family recipe.” He was stifling a laugh, as he took back the bottle for another swig.
“You get used to it when you’re desperate enough.
” He set the bottle between us to enjoy as desired.
“This bottle’s quite a few years old, so it’s finely aged and shit.
It’s actually gotten better than it used to be, if you can believe it. ”
“I cannot believe it.” I took another sip anyway. “Is this your stash from when you were a young delinquent?”