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)
“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.