Tag: Federation

prompt: End your story with a character saying “Thank you, God. Thanks an awful lot.” (sarcastically or not).

available at Reedsy

Nyx tried again to jettison the cargo, no response. She tried to operate the manual override, but it was jammed. “Shit. I’m stuck with this now.” She returned to the pilot’s chair and strapped in.

Nyx checked the straps of her harness and made sure her helmet was secured to the side of the pilot’s chair. There were more warning and error lights than systems showing normal. The artificial gravity was straining to overcome the effects of the ship’s diagonal end-over-end tumble.

“Mayday, mayday, mayday. MV Night Flight, engines down, steering thrusters down, unstable attitude, moving approximately fourteen-thousand kilometers per hour, last known position Oort Cloud jump gate. When grav shuts down I’m not likely to retain consciousness.”

She set the message to repeat every ten seconds with a new time stamp each call. The stars streaked by, and she put her mind to determining the shape of her tumble. By mentally tracing the path of the sun when it showed in her view, she determined that the Night Flight was doing about one-and-a-half rolls for every two off-kilter end-over-end flips.

The radio crackled to life. “Merchant vessel Night Flight, this is Federation vessel Maria Odobwe. We have your mayday and are scanning for you now. Hang in there, we’re coming for you.”

Nyx stopped the automated transmission and responded. “FV Maria Odobwe, this is MV Night Flight. It’s good to hear your voice. I can’t tell whether the emergency beacon is working or not. Damn near every system is showing red across the board. A tanker entered the gate as I was exiting and my warp bubble stripped wrong, sent me ass over teakettle and fried my systems.”

She waited for the response…and waited…and waited. Twenty-six minutes later it came back. “Roger, MV Night Flight. We see your emergency beacon ping and are triangulating your location and speed now. We will be jumping soon. Expect to see you in ten minutes. Out.”

The artificial gravity cut out. The roll of the ship was like a demented carnival ride but not as severe as she’d feared. Okay, Nyx, she thought, you got this. Just ride this out for a few minutes until the cavalry gets here. As long as they don’t look too close, I may still be fine.

At this distance it was hard to tell, but Nyx was certain the sun was getting further away as she rolled and tumbled through space. If they didn’t get here soon enough, she was in danger of finding some random piece of debris or ice from the Oort Cloud the hard way.

She saw a flash of blue as she tumbled; the glow from a ship dropping from warp. “Odobwe, this is Night Flight, was that you I just saw dropping from warp?”

“MV Night Flight, FV Maria Odobwe, affirmative. My name’s Wen Banks, what’s yours?”

“Nyx Carlisle. Can you match rotation and pull me in?”

“Listen, Nyx. You’ve got a double rotation going along with your speed of 14,223 kilometers per hour. We’ve got to stop one of those rotational motions.”

“No engines, no steering thrusters, remember, Wen?”

“I remember, Nyx. Does that ship have a front or rear docking port? If we only have to match a roll that’s simple enough.”

“Negative. Sorry, Wen. The docking ports are starboard and port broadside. This ship isn’t designed for loading in vacuum. She’s a little rock hopper.”

“Roger. We’re working out a solution. Hang tight, Nyx. By the way, how’s the gravity holding up?”

“Went out before you got here. It’s not as bad as I expected, but I’m getting one hell of a headache.”

The minutes dragged by as Nyx watched the large military ship appear and disappear from her view. By watching the ship, she could get a mirror view of how her own was tumbling. Slowly, however, the tumbling turned into a wobble while she seemed to be spinning beside it.

“Nyx, we’ve been over your telemetry and ship specs, and we have a solution for you. Are you in a vac suit?”

“Affirmative, Wen. Helmet close to hand as well.”

“That’s good. I’m going to need you to put the helmet on and make sure of your levels before the next step.”

“Roger. Just a minute while I helmet and seal.” Nyx put on her helmet and verified the seal, then donned the gloves that hung from her wrists and checked the seals on those as well.

“I’m all buttoned up,” she said.

“We’re going to learn a pattern now.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Repeat after me: cabin four, three seconds, cabin six, nine seconds, cabin one, five seconds, bridge, one second, remaining cabins.”

“Cabin four, three seconds, cabin six, nine seconds, cabin one, five seconds, bridge, one second, remaining cabins.” Nyx took a deep breath. “Venting atmosphere via the fire suppression system?”

“Exactly. The order is critical, and the closer the timing the better we remove the roll and the yaw.”

“Okay, Wen, let me check that I can access fire control.” Nyx checked the fire suppression system and verified that it was operational. “I’d really like to practice this a time or twelve, but I’m worried that if I disconnect fire control, I won’t get it back. Sealing all bulkheads now.”

“You can do this, Nyx, and I’ll be right here with you every step of the way.”

“Hey, Wen. You keep track of the timing, and I’ll track the order. It takes a couple strokes at least to vent a section. Four, six, one, bridge, other cabins, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Ready to vent cabin four. On your mark.” Nyx held her gloved hand above the console.

“Vent.”

Nyx tapped the console and felt the ship’s rotation change while she keyed in the command to vent cabin six.

“…one, vent!”

She stabbed at the console. She’d missed the first part of the countdown, so she listened closely while Wen counted down from nine as she prepped to vent cabin one.

“…four, three, two, one, vent!”

Another tap on the console followed by a shift in the feel of the ship’s tumbling and the three taps it took to prepare to vent the bridge.

“…two, one, vent!”

Nyx tapped the console and put in the command to vent all the cabins as fast as her fingers allowed, but she was still nearly a second behind Wen’s call of “Vent!”

“Sorry, Wen,” she said, “that was the fastest I could do it.”

“It’s all good, Nyx. You’ve got less than two degrees yaw. We can dock. Look out your starboard.”

To her right, the large military ship slowly moved closer, wobbling only a slight bit. The stars in the view seemed to be moving consistent with a steady end-over-end tumble without the roll or off-axis tilt.

When the docking clamps locked on, the larger ship stopped the tumble and Nyx felt the weightlessness of free-fall. “I’m still here,” she said, “and ready for whatever maneuvers you have planned.”

“Negative, Nyx. You need to come aboard. We’ve got some high-gee maneuvers we have to make.”

“Roger that, Wen. On my way.” She released her straps and pushed off against the console to the starboard airlock. I just hope they don’t want to check the cargo, she thought.

As she made her way onto the Maria Odobwe, a guard led her down a corridor to a waiting room. From the uniform she knew this wasn’t a combat ship; it was a police ship. The sound of boots outside the room, heading toward the airlock was the only thing she could hear, then silence for several minutes.

The door opened and an officer entered. “Nyx Carlisle? I’m Lieutenant Colonel Graves, Fourteenth Police. Good news, and bad news.”

“Of course,” Nyx said. She looked at the stocky woman in her dress uniform standing just inside the door. She was waiting to hear that she was under arrest. It was the only logical thing that could happen now.

“Bad news: the docking clamps wouldn’t hold up to the maneuvers we needed to make to avoid splattering ourselves on something in the Oort Cloud, so we had to cut your ship loose. It’s a total loss.”

“And what’s the good news?”

“Sensors show that you were transporting explosives. Your license doesn’t allow that, and your flight plan doesn’t include any licensed dealers. Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to break into your cargo hold and get the physical evidence, so it looks like you walk from this one…unless you want to turn yourself in.”

Nyx groaned and laid her head on the table. “All I’ll say about the cargo is it was a privately contracted job. I would’ve paid my ship off. Failure to deliver puts me in a bad position. Not only do I still owe credits on the ship, but that’s half a million credits of cargo gone…along with my entire life. That ship was my home.”

“You should be thanking whatever god you believe in that we got here when we did,” Graves said. “Any later, and you’d be dead, any earlier, and you’d likely be facing a long sentence. Now, at least, you’re alive and at most we’ll put you on a suspected smugglers list for a while. Show us you can keep your nose clean, and we’ll leave you alone soon enough.”

“I should be thanking god? For my wondrous luck? Hey, my life’s ruined, my home and livelihood are destroyed but I’m still alive to be hunted down by my last client! Sure. Thank you, God. Thanks an awful lot.”

prompt: Write about someone in a thankless job.

available at Reedsy

In all the inhabited worlds there were fewer than five people who had more than a passing acquaintance with Kia Tyler. Her direct supervisor, Adama, was perhaps the one who knew her best, and they never saw each other outside of work.

The most important thing that Adama knew about his employee was that her skin was very sensitive, and she was, according to her, “allergic to damn near everything in the universe.”

With mandatory genetic counseling, this sort of trait was all but unheard of, making her uniquely suited to her job. It wasn’t difficult, or physically demanding, but she often ended the day with contact dermatitis around her nose and mouth.

As the only manufacturer of masks for low-oxygen environments that didn’t require full vac suits, the lives of nearly everyone on Mars depended on his product. Adama felt his company should do everything in their power to ensure their product was not just safe and effective but comfortable as well. That’s where Kia’s sensitive skin came in.

Kia wore an oxygen mask in her testing office. Since she didn’t require extra oxygen in the environment of the dome, the mask delivered slightly cooled room air. Thermal cameras recorded any leaks of the mask. A certain amount was allowed, but she would automatically fail any material that was less than 98% effective in the proper size or 90% if too small or large.

The new compound of the mask seal she was testing passed the leak test with flying colors. Despite trying it on in every size available, even the masks too small and too large maintained a seal above 98%. Her face, however, was not happy.

It began as a faint itch, progressing to a burning sensation. Less than an hour after donning the mask, Kia was forced to remove it. She looked in the mirror at her desk. The edges of the mask were clearly marked by what appeared to be an angry red burn; bumps beginning to form.

“Compound Z-443-alpha-2, wear test negative. Allergic reaction positive. Wear time: forty-eight minutes.” She saved the results and pulled the seal off the testing mask and tossed it in the recycler. Kia made a point of cleaning her hands, then her face, and finally, the mask.

There was no more testing that she would be able to do for the day. Before treating with an antihistamine, her face was sensitive to any contact, including the rush of air caused by her breathing. After treatment, her face would be completely insensitive to any sort of allergic assault for at least twelve hours.

#

Miria loved her job, traveling across the Martian landscape far from any domes, checking the progress of the bacteria and fungus that had been engineered to release oxygen from the iron oxide in the soil. Her rover had food, water, and oxygen for twenty days. She would spend fourteen in the wild.

She was required to post regular reports to the terraforming commission, but never had to deal with them face-to-face. Her reports were signed by her employee number. Miria didn’t mind being a small cog in a large machine.

The thing she loved most about her job, though, was that she was completely alone. Not one given to idle companionship, she preferred the company of her “little world changers,” as she called them.

Two dozen mask seals, labeled Z-799, were stored in a cubby above her three masks, near the airlock. One primary, and two backups. Ten oxygen canisters provided enough for twenty hours outside the rover and could be refilled in the rover itself.

She stopped at the grid coordinates for her inspection and pulled on her mask. Cycling the airlock, she stepped out into the cold, thin atmosphere. She found the marker flag, bent over by a windstorm at some point, and straightened it back up.

Yellow lichens clung to every rock larger than a couple centimeters. Miria took samples of the lichen, the surrounding soil, and one deep soil sample. She paused to lift her mask and take a drink from her water canister. The air was sharp, acidic. She lowered her mask and took another breath.

“Someday, you will make the air sweet here,” she said to the lichen sample. “I’ll be out of a job then, but I’ll probably be over a hundred, so it doesn’t matter.”

Back in the rover, she made use of the mobile lab and compared the genome of the current bacteria and lichen versus those originally seeded. The faster reproducing of the current bacteria had a lower oxygen toxicity threshold than was desirable. Miria would have to find a way to give the more oxygen resistant bacteria a leg up, so to speak.

The lichen, however, was doing its job superbly. “Strain 613-gamma, code name whirlwind, maintaining stable genome and positive nitrogen production,” she added to her audio log.

#

Zane planted pale yellow lichens around the base of the new hybrid rhododendron in the Capital City Park. He took a deep breath of the air, sweetened with the scent of roses and the moisture from this morning’s watering.

“You need some of this to help you get enough nitrogen,” he said to the plant. He liked tending the plants in the park. The Martian atmosphere was thin, but high enough in oxygen for daily life. He had seen holos of the early settlers more than a century prior. First with their fully contained suits, then, after millions of tonnes of Venusian atmosphere had been mined and dumped on Mars as CO2, with their masks.

He stepped back and admired his handiwork. It made him proud that thousands of people admired his work every day, even if they never knew it. Zane prided himself on planting and pruning in such a way that the garden looked like it just happened to grow that way.

With a check of the time, Zane gathered his tools into his carrier and made his way to the hidden gardener’s shack. The carrier hovered a few inches above the ground, not leaving any tell-tale wheel marks. He’d had the idea when he first started of planting a hardy, low-growing moss on the path to the shed. Any footprints would be gone within minutes, leaving no trace that a human had been anywhere other than the paved path.

In the shack, Zane put away the tools and checked his supplies. He’d need to order more whirlwind lichen starts soon. The respirator he used when spreading fine particulate like mold spores still had good filters, and he had plenty of spares. He checked the seals and ordered another dozen 799 grade face mask seals.

His day done, Zane logged his time out in the shack, and left by the door that led to the employee gate. He looked up at the sky, where the morning sun reflected off the few, high clouds. It was going to be another beautiful day on Mars.

prompt: Write about a character breaking a rule, but for good reason.

available at Reedsy

“Have we got a navigation solution, Chip?” The pilot rushed through his pre-flight checks.

“Affirmative. I am unable to activate, however. I apologize, Stefan.”

“I understand. Manual entry and activation.”

“Attention, cargo vessel Uragon:you are to immediately power down your warp generator until you reach minimum clearance distance of one-hundred-thirty thousand kilometers.”

“Sorry, no time to talk.” He switched off the comm. As soon as his warp generator spooled up, he tapped the console, shooting off at maximum speed.

“Okay, Chip. You can take over now without violating any regs.”

“Navigation control regained. We will break super-C in three hours, twenty-seven minutes.”

“I hope we get there in time.” Stefan released the harness holding him in the pilot’s chair and stood to stretch.

“It is possible that the Defense Force may get an escort there before us,” Chip said, its voice neither masculine nor feminine. Like all navigation AIs, Chip’s voice was designed to be unmistakable and easily understood.

“Just because a thing is possible, doesn’t make it probable,” Stefan replied. “If a carrier is going to get there first, they need to leave the system in the next thirty minutes. I don’t see it happening.”

“I agree with your assessment,” Chip said, “as the only escort in system was in dock for fueling and provisions.”

“My husband’s going to kill me when we get back, though.”

“Should I prepare a message to have police protection when we return?”

“I didn’t mean literally, Chip. It’s a figure of speech,” Stefan said as he walked through the ship to the cargo area. “It means he’s going to be angry with me.”

“Are you planning on bringing them aboard when you get there?”

“Not unless their ship is fatally compromised. There’s no room in the hold for even a small shuttle.” He began moving the cargo around to get at the oxygen he was meant to deliver. “I just want to buy them some time.”

“Are you going to give the oxygen to them?”

“As much as they need, until the escort gets there.”

“And this is why your husband will be angry?”

“It’ll hurt our finances, sure,” he said, “but I think the fine for breaking the minimum warp distance will be big thing. I might even lose my license over it.”

“Your record is clean up to today. According to Federation law, you will be given a warning, and your license will be revoked if you get another violation in the next eighteen months.”

“Thanks for clearing that up, Chip.” Stefan stacked the oxygen in the airlock. “It also depends on the judge, though. I was less than a thousand kilometers from the station when I warped. They might take that as reckless.”

“Prepare for exit from super-C, twelve minutes and counting.”

Stefan made his way back to the pilot’s chair and strapped himself in. He keyed in the commands to start all the scanners and held his hand above the console. As the dull grey of super-C flashed bright white and returned to the view of normal space, he tapped the console to activate the scanners.

“Thirteen-hundred-forty-one kilometers, heading one-three-zero by seven-four by one-six-point-one,” Chip said. “Course laid in.”

“Maximum sub-light, full burn with mid-flight flip.”

“Engaging. High-gee maneuvers, Stefan.”

Stefan nodded, as extensions from the seat wrapped around his legs, squeezing them tight. He forced his breath while it felt like an elephant sat on his chest. The gravity plating was not of the sort that the military used, so it couldn’t do much for the nine gravities he was subjecting himself to.

At the halfway point, he took big gulps of air and prepared to repeat the procedure for the slow-down portion of the trip. The ship went into full burn again to slow down. Tunnel-vision told him he was close to passing out.

When he thought he wouldn’t be able to take it any longer, it ended as with a sudden moment of weightlessness before the gravity plating returned the ship to one gee.

Without wasting any time, Stefan unbuckled and ran for the airlock. “Hail them and dock, Chip.”

“Affirmative. I have positive hail from the Timbe, four people, all unconscious. Airlock docked.”

Stefan cycled the airlock and watched as the outer door of the other ship opened at the other end of the short tunnel. The air that poured out from the crippled ship set off his CO2 alarm.

 “Chip, where is their oxygen connect?”

“Three meters to the right of the inner airlock door.”

Stefan connected one of the oxygen canisters, and opened another wide. “Not the best way, but the quickest to get some oxygen in here. Timbe AI, where are the crew?”

“They are on the bridge,” the Timbe’s AI responded.

Carrying one of the tanks of oxygen, Stefan followed the signs to the bridge. Once there, he opened the oxygen canister and removed their emergency oxygen masks. As they came around, he made sure they were aware of what was happening and then returned to change out more of their oxygen tanks.

The FDF escort vessel Bright Harbor arrived more than three hours later. It was like a space-faring port, capable of docking a large ship and warping to a destination with that ship attached. Stefan returned to his ship and undocked so the escort could lock the Tembe into its docking port.

“No good deed…. I’ll probably be arrested when we get back,” he said.

“The law is clear,” Chip said, “that it would be a fine.”

“Unless they want to call it reckless endangerment.”

Stefan returned to the station at a more leisurely pace, arriving after five hours in super-C. He made sure to exit well outside the warp exclusion limit and hail the station for docking. As expected, he was arrested as soon as he docked and stepped off the ship.

After two days in a cell, he was brought before a judge. He had a public defender there he hadn’t yet met, and across from her sat the Federation prosecuting attorney. The four crew from the Tembe were present, along with the executive officer from the Bright Harbor. A woman he couldn’t identify, dressed in an obviously expensive suit, sat with them in the area reserved for witnesses.

“Prisoner Stefan Inholt, you are charged with the following crimes. Ignoring minimum safe distance for warp with reckless endangerment, first class. Maximum sentence: two years and revocation of your piloting license for life. Theft of goods in transit, aggravated second class. Maximum sentence: one year. Prosecution, you may make your case.”

The prosecutor rose, and looked at Stefan, where he stood in the block, before looking back to the judge. “Your honor, prosecution would like to drop the charge for ignoring minimum safe distance for warp. The Tembe sent a distress call from a distance of thirty-one light hours, with only thirty-three hours of oxygen left on board. The extra hour it would have taken the accused to get to minimum safe distance would have resulted the death of the crew.”

The judge looked to the defense attorney for their nod of approval and banged her gavel. “Removed: ignoring safe minimum distance with reckless endangerment, first class. Moving on to theft of goods in transit, aggravated second class.”

“Prosecution calls Maria Obele, the client for whom the goods were being delivered.”

“I remind you that you are under oath to speak only the truth to the court,” the judge said.

Maria stood and cleared her throat. “Your honor, had I known the circumstances, I would not have lodged a complaint.”

The prosecutor raised a hand. “Citizen Obele, what was the value of the goods missing from your delivery?”

“About a hundred credits. But, as I already stated, had I known the circumstances—”

“Citizen Obele,” the prosecutor cut in, “did you or did you not lose cargo in transit?”

“Objection,” the defense attorney said. “If the aggrieved wishes to remove the charges, they should be allowed.”

One of the crew of the Tembe stood. “Your honor, I know this is irregular, but my crew and I are willing to pay for the oxygen that Citizen Inholt used to save our lives.”

The judge pounded her gavel. “You have not been called upon to speak yet. Maria Obele, do you wish to drop the charge of theft of goods in transit, aggravated second class?”

“Yes, your honor, I do.” She turned toward the Tembe crew seated next to her and smiled. “And I do not seek remuneration.”

“Prosecutor, the aggrieved has stated their desire to remove the charge of theft of goods in transit, aggravated second class.”

The prosecutor frowned. “Prosecution drops the charge of theft of goods in transit, aggravated second class.”

“No further charges. Citizen Stefan Inholt, you are free to go. This session is adjourned.” The judge banged her gavel and Stefan was led out of the block and released into the station.

Stefan walked onto his ship. “Hey, Chip, I’m back.”

“Welcome, Stefan. Have you been fined?”

“Nope, it seems that maybe…sometimes, at least one good deed does go unpunished.”

“Why would a good deed be punished in the first place?”

“It’s a figure of speech, Chip. Don’t worry about it.” Stefan fired up his comm and began scrolling. “Now to find a load to haul. Regardless of what she says, I’m paying Obele back for her oxygen. And we aren’t mentioning any of this to my husband when we get back home.”

prompt: Write about someone who everyone thinks is an extrovert, but is actually an introvert.

available at Reedsy

She was larger than life, her stride confident, her head high. She greeted everyone she passed, many by name. It didn’t matter whether they were security, mechanics, pilots, cleaning crew or just surprised, random strangers.

“Kai,” she called with a wide smile, “see anything I should worry about?”

“Nope. You were right on the reactor coils, though. I replaced ‘em all during the overhaul.” He held out a data pad for her signature.

“Thanks. Not too expensive, I hope?”

“Don’t worry about that, Edria. You’ve still got credit remaining with us, and I gave you a discount.”

“I told you, Kai, just call me Ed.”  She thumbed the pad, recording her print and approval. “And tell that kid of yours I’ll bring back a piece of asteroid for her.”

“She’ll love that. Safe trip, Ed.”

She walked to her ship, where a dock worker was disconnecting the charging and fueling lines. “Hey Tam! How are you feeling after last night?”

“Not too bad,” she said. “I’m a little tired, but it was a good party.”

“We’ll have to do it again when I get back.” Ed winked.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Tam said. “It would drive me nuts being out there alone for a month at a time.”

Ed laughed. “We all make our sacrifices,” she said.

“You’re all set,” Tam said, giving her a thumbs-up.

“Thanks, Tam. Tell the rest of the crew that the first round’s on me when I get back.”

She settled into the pilot’s seat of her scout ship and checked that all instruments were green. “Ground, long-range scout Jackal requesting clearance for lift-off and immediate self-initiated jump.”

“Long-range scout Jackal, ground control. There’s an increased mandatory clearance of 250,000 kilometers from the jump gate for self-initiated jump.”

“Roger, ground, 250,000 K clearance. How are things, Jules?”

“Things are good, Ed. You are cleared for lift-off and vector seven-zero by one-four by three-five-eight off-plane for immediate jump once past minimum clearance. Have a good trip.”

“Thanks, Jules. Scout Jackal lifting off.”

After an initial burn of four gee, Ed broke orbit at a steady one gee acceleration for two hours, putting her at the minimum distance to make her jump to warp. Once she had initiated the jump, she turned on artificial gravity and slouched in her seat with a sigh.

The hum of the reactor, the sigh of the air handlers, even the rattle of the toolbox tie-down that she hadn’t gotten around to tightening…these were the sounds of sanity. She’d been in dock for five days, and it had worn her to nothing.

She had nine days to system R-795, then another twenty days of taking asteroid samples before she needed to return. Prospecting for mining companies wasn’t a terribly glamorous job, but it suited her. Time alone, time to recharge.

“Um, hi?” The voice behind her was quiet, timid.

Ed spun around in her seat. “Who are you? How did you get on board?”

“Hi Ed, I’m Sil,” the slight woman said, “and I overheard in the bar that you were leaving this morning and wouldn’t be back for a month. If you can drop me off at the other end, I’ll work for my passage.”

Ed groaned. “Unless you want to be dropped off on an asteroid in an unsettled system, there is no ‘other side’ on this trip.”

“Oh.” Her head dropped. “So, you’re going back to Parvati. Shit.”

“What are you running from?”

“I owe someone,” she said, “and it’s bad.”

“Well, there’s plenty of food, if you don’t mind ration bars, and we’re not going to run out of water or oxygen.” Ed turned her chair back toward the control console. “Just give me peace when I ask for it, and we’ll figure something out.”

“The way you were in the bar, and the way everyone talks about you, I thought you’d be more…outgoing.”

“That’s an act. As long as I’m friendly with everyone there, I get better deals on maintenance, get bumped to front of the line for clearance, and get more contracts. It…takes a lot out of me, though.”

“You prefer being alone?”

“Very much so. And now is one of those times where I need to be.” Ed checked the console, even though there was nothing for her to do at this stage of the trip. “The food locker is the green door down next to the galley; you can sleep in crew room three.”

“Thank you.” Sil left the bridge and searched for the crew quarters. Room one was open; lived in but clean and orderly. Room two was stacked with storage containers. Room three contained a cot with a mattress, pillow, and a single blanket. It had its own air shower and toilet and was just across from the galley.

#

The following days were awkward. Ed felt it was taking longer than usual to get back to normal. Even when she didn’t see Sil in the crew quarters hallway, or hear her in her room humming, or more often, sobbing, she still knew she was not alone on the ship. Her ship. Her quiet place.

By the last day in warp, Ed was feeling more herself. She took a deep breath and turned on the intercom. She’d never used it but was glad to see that it worked. “Sil, we’re breaking warp in ten minutes. Be prepared for a moment of zero gee, then meet me in the galley when gravity comes back on.”

She clicked through the procedures and artificial gravity cut out as the ship diverted power to the shields before stripping the warp bubble. The gravity came back with a clatter from the toolbox. I really need to tighten that strap.

Sil was waiting for her in the galley, standing in the corner. Ed pointed to the small table. “Take a seat. I have a post-warp ritual.” Without waiting for a response, she pulled out prepped ingredients and began cooking. She was silent as she measured, heated, stirred, spiced, and tasted for balance.

Setting two paper bowls of a hearty bean soup with a soft-cooked egg on top, Ed said, “Real food.”

“Thank you.” Sil’s eyes were red from crying, and Ed took her first good look at her. She couldn’t be more than twenty.

“Tell me more about your debt.”

“I…borrowed some money to pay off a gambling debt, but….” She stared into her soup.

“You gambled that away, too.”

Sil nodded.

“How much?”

“Two hundred thirty credits.”

Ed pursed her lips. It was sizable, but not insurmountable. If this job got her a normal finder’s fee, Sil’s debt plus fuel, oxygen, water, and food would leave her at break-even. If not, she still had a thousand credits in the bank. “What did you do in your mandies?”

“Man…mandatory service? I was a freight loader.” Sil sniffled as she ate the soup, taking her time with it.

“Familiar with what a mining scout does?”

“No.”

“We catalog and measure the asteroids, test their gravitational pull, and determine their mass. Based on mass, we can guess pretty well what they’re made of. If it’s metallic, we take a sample and move on to the next.”

Sil nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Most of it is record-keeping.” Ed drained her bowl and dropped it into the recycler. “If you can keep up with the record-keeping part, I’ll pay off your debt when we get back.”

“Th—thank you.”

“Don’t start crying now, please. I don’t know how to handle it.”

Sil sniffled. “Sorry.”

“Enough of that. Let’s go to work.”

#

They fell into a rhythm by the end of the first week. Ed would pilot the drone to catalog asteroids and measure mass while Sil recorded. They’d break for lunch, then Ed would pilot the drone back to any promising asteroids to drill a sample. She drilled a couple extra for Kai’s daughter while she was at it.

In the evenings, Sil would take a turn piloting the drone, getting the feel of the controls. She said  she didn’t need as much sleep as Ed and would use the extra hours scouting. Ed was sure she was just trying to make up for the promise of paying off her debt.

It was the middle of the second week when Ed rose and found Sil waiting for her with wide eyes. “You find something?”

Sil passed her the data pad. “I think so.”

Ed looked over the data. “Where is this? 6,000 kilometers radius, 1.1 gees. It’s the size of Mars and heavier than Earth. Sounds like the core of a planet. There’s nothing like that in the belt.”

“Largest moon around the gas giant we passed last night.”

Ed checked the navigation logs. “You pulled us out of the belt for this?”

“Sorry. It was giving me weird gravimetric readings when it came out from behind the giant. I had to check it out.”

Ed grunted. “Make me some coffee, and let’s get a closer look.”

As the Jackal pulled into a stable orbit around the heavy moon, Ed fired up the ship’s sensors. There was plenty of data they could pull from here, but more would be available if they landed. She didn’t want to land if it was dangerous, though, and it was clear right away that it was.

“I want to land there and get a sample, but I can’t.”

“Why?” Sil asked.

“Radioactive.”

“There must be a lot of fissile material in the core.” Sil’s eyebrows furrowed. “Can the drone take a sample?”

“It could,” Ed said, “but it would never make it back into orbit. Its max is 0.2 gees.”

“Well, at least we have some data.”

Ed smiled. “Yes, and these readings are enough to bump my pay for this job to about four times normal.” She looked at Sil. It was the first time she’d seen Sil smile. “Half of that is yours, since you were up to catch the readings.”

“Thanks.” Her smile dropped. “I’m sorry I stowed away and took your alone time. I…like alone time, too.”

“Maybe that’s why you aren’t on my nerves,” Ed said. “Anyone else, I’d have gone crazy and spaced them by now.”

“So different from how you seemed at the bar.” Sil shook her head. “I could never do that; be friendly and loud like that.”

“Sure you could. It’s just pretend.” Ed sipped at her coffee. “The trick is to get out before you’re too tired to pretend anymore. Getting the reactor overhauled meant more time than usual in dock, and I was at my end by the time we left. Sorry if I was a bitch to you.”

“Ed,” she asked, “do you think I could work for you for a while? I—I mean, after this?”

“You’re getting pretty good with the drone.” Ed pondered. “I thought about getting a pet. Just because I don’t like being around crowds doesn’t mean I don’t get lonely. You might be a better choice, though. You can feed yourself; you can hold a conversation on the rare occasion I want one, and we can get more work done together than I can alone.”

“Is that a yes?”

“On one condition.” Ed finished her coffee and dropped the cup in the recycler. “No gambling.”

“It was my way to hide, when I couldn’t stand the crowds,” she said. “No one thinks twice about a person staring at their cards and not talking.”

“We’ll work on that,” Ed said. “This is where I hide, so I understand. The usual scout job is twenty days on site, unless it takes longer to find anything worth mining.”

“I suppose we have enough to go back now, huh?”

“We do,” Ed said, “but I’d rather spend the full twenty days out here.”

Sil smiled for the second time. “Thanks, I’d prefer that, too.”

Ed broke orbit and returned to the belt. “I think we’ll get along fine.”

prompt: Start your story with an unexpected knock on a window.

available at Reedsy

Sia was jolted awake by the ringing of something against the hull. There shouldn’t be any debris or asteroids in this region, but there it was again. It was…rhythmic?

She sat the pilot’s seat up in time to see a figure in a vac suit slapping their hand against the forward window. A rub of her eyes and shake of her head convinced her that she was awake, and this was real. “I’m opening the airlock.” She hoped they were in firm enough contact with the hull to hear her amplified voice vibrate through the hull and their own suit.

The airlock showed as open, but the figure stayed at the forward window. Sia pointed toward the starboard side and motioned “come in.”

Once the figure had entered the airlock and the outer door was sealed, she ran a full re-pressurization and decontamination cycle. As atmosphere built up in the airlock, she opened the intercom. “Hang tight, need to run a decon, as my medical kit is limited and I’m not in any position to deal with hazardous materials.”

The figure nodded and gave a thumbs-up gesture. The suit was bulky, old-fashioned, of the sort that went out of use at least two hundred years earlier.

“You need help to get out of that suit?”

The figure shook its hand in a “no” gesture. The helmet attachment and dark faceplate made any head movements invisible to anyone outside the suit. After turning to face away from the inner airlock door, the figure twisted the helmet and lifted it off. From the back, all Sia could make out was the black of the internal suit, as the type that would be worn with one of the antique vac suits.

The gloves were next to come off, followed by the slim, feminine figure shimmying out of the main body of the bulky suit as gracefully as possible in zero gee. As the figure turned around to face the inner door, Sia was struck by how the woman’s face looked too perfect, too symmetrical, without blemish.

Once the decon procedure completed, she opened the inner door. “I’m Sia. Who the hell are you and how did you get out here?”

“I go by the name Eva.”

“Doesn’t tell me how you got here.”

“I was doing repairs on the research vessel Amadou, researching the remains of a nearly-extinct black hole.” Eva’s expression was unchanging. “We were in a stable orbit, and I was repairing one of the external sensors when were struck by an in-falling asteroid, approximately four kilograms, but traveling fast. It knocked me off the ship and deflected the ship’s orbit toward the black hole.”

“That was a long time ago. You mean to tell me you’ve been drifting for two hundred years?”

“The Amadou was pulled into the event horizon. I watched it rip itself apart as it reached an area where the gravitational gradient was too steep to withstand. I, however, was pushed into a slingshot. When I saw your ship, I used the suit’s thrusters to put me on an intercept, then did everything I could to slow down to match your speed. If I hadn’t caught on, I’d be far beyond you by now.”

Sia shook her head. “Now you’re saying you were moving faster the Sprinter in nothing but a vac suit from the pre-super-c era?” She leaned in close and looked at Eva’s face. “If you didn’t look so fake, I might not believe you. But you’re an old android, aren’t you?”

“I am a custom-built, extra-vehicular assistant…thus Eva.”

“So why the vac suit?”

“Mostly to maintain temperature. Too warm and my circuitry may malfunction, too cold and my joints become immobile. Thus, the suit with a nuclear battery, similar to the one I operate on.”

“It’s a good thing you aren’t human,” Sia said. “I’ve only got enough oxygen and food for one.”

“What is your mission?” Eva asked.

Sia laughed. “It’s not a mission, so much as a challenge. I’m doing a solo, sub-light trip, timed from Earth to Neptune, using only an initial, twenty-minute burst of one quarter gee thrust from high earth orbit, followed by slingshot maneuvers and steering thrusters only. I was trying to beat the record, and I believe I would have.”

“What is our current location and speed?”

“A little more than four hundred kilometers per second, and less than ten hours from my final slingshot maneuver, around Saturn.”

“What is the record?”

“One hundred twenty-two days, four hours, eleven minutes, and nine seconds.”

“And your estimated completion time?”

“Ninety-three days, give or take.”

Eva squatted in a position where she could hold herself against the hull in the null gravity. “Why do you say ‘would have’ when it seems you are still on track to beat the record?”

“The record is for solo travel, without AI assistance. The addition of a passenger, or an AI, invalidates it.”

“You calculated all the maneuvers yourself?”

“I did.” Sia grunted and pulled a tablet out from beneath the pilot’s chair. “Now I have to recalculate the last slingshot for the added mass. What is your mass, anyway?”

“One hundred-eighteen point eight six kilograms, including the suit. Sixty-four of that is the suit. If you need it can be jettisoned.”

“No way. That thing is an antique, worth a lot of credits. I was going to charge you that for passage. Now hush while I work this out.”

After two hours of revision, Sia had her new flight plan in place and keyed into the navigation. She leaned the pilot’s chair back with a sigh. “All set.”

“Would it be more advantageous to you if I were to suit up and step back out?”

Sia gawped at the android clinging to the wall. “Are you nuts?! Why would you even suggest that?”

“If I were to download my data to your systems, my mission could still be completed.”

“And you what? Drift until your battery runs out of power or you slam into a piece of rock?” Sia closed her eyes. “I’m not sending out to die just to set a record.”

“But I wouldn’t really be dying, since I’m not alive.”

Sia shook her head hard, her hair coming out from under her collar to float around her face. “No. That’s not happening. Just because you don’t think you’re alive, doesn’t mean I want to eject you like junk.”

“Perhaps the limited scope of my intelligence would allow them to make an exception in your case.”

Sia pulled the tablet back out from beneath her seat and showed it to Eva. “Can you calculate the terms shown here?”

“I can.”

“Then you’re not too limited to invalidate my run,” Sia said, “but now I have an excuse to try again next year.”

“Wasn’t this trip planned based on certain orbital efficiencies? And won’t those alignments be off when you try again?”

“Yes, and yes. But,” she said, smiling, “that just makes it more of a challenge.”

prompt: Start your story with the line, “It had been twenty-four years since she’d last seen it, but the place looked exactly the same,” and end it with, “[…] and that was all that mattered.”…
available at Reedsy

It had been twenty-four years since she’d last seen it, but the place looked exactly the same. The short, forty-story blocks in a cluster at the head of the inlet. Below, the dock and boat launch, and even the fish farm boats seemed to have been frozen in time.

The wind on the rooftop park blew Jak’s tangled curls of dark blue hair into a halo around her mahogany face and bright brown eyes. She put an arm around Sina. “This is pretty much the same as when I left here.”

“It feels so small,” Sina said. The afternoon sun gave her olive skin a warm glow, her jet hair tied back in a braid shone like silk and her dark green eyes sparkled. “The blocks are so short, and there’s so few of them. This block is really only forty stories?”

“There’s never been a need for full, hundred-story blocks here. Welcome to Maud City, Antarctica.”

“I thought there would be snow,” Sina said. “I mean, yeah, it’s summer and all, but I thought there would be, like, mountains with snow or something.”

“Still excited for the job?”

“Oh, yeah! I don’t know much about the area, but the people I talked to in the interviews were nice, and it seems like a good position. They want me to make murals for them,” she said, barely stopping for a breath. “It’s not like I’ll be climbing up the buildings painting them, but I’m to design them and then the robots will do the painting. They’re neat little things, look kind of like bugs, but not as icky, and they climb up the building and each one paints only one color. Hundreds of them at once, and they say they can do an entire side of a block in just a week. It’s like…,” she blushed and dropped her head. “Sorry, I’m babbling again.”

Jak kissed her forehead. “It’s okay. I like seeing you excited like this.”

“But you didn’t have to come,” she said. “I mean, there’s no construction here, where will you work?” Her eyes shot wide. “I—I’m not saying I don’t want you here, not at all. I’m glad you came, but what will you do?”

Jak pointed at the boats in the harbor. “See all those boats? They go out to the fish farms every day, and there’s never enough mechanics to maintain them all.”

“Oh, you must have checked ahead.” Sina shook her head. “What am I saying? Of course, you checked ahead. And you grew up here? I mean, at first… when you were just little.”

“I didn’t check ahead, but I remember what it was like.” Jak chuckled. “Let’s go back to our flat and change. We’re going to the Cold Cod.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a bar and grill. Heritage site. Been here since before the Federation.” Jak took Sina’s hand and led her to the lift. “The original was built during the end of the water wars.”

“The original?”

“It burned down a few times. At least the insides did. The outside of the building is stone.”

“But it’s still a heritage site?”

“Yeah,” Jak said, “the current interior was built about two hundred years ago. The outside hasn’t changed in over four hundred years.”

“So, is it a museum?”

“Could be,” Jak said, “but it’s a working bar. Ever had real fish?”

“Who can afford that? Besides, fish is bland and mushy, even the lab-grown kind.”

“Promise me you will try real fish, just this once.”

“If it will make you happy.”

#

They stepped out of the taxi in front of a low stone building with a sign bearing a silver suit of armor with a blue crotch sporting icicles. Sina stopped and stared at the sign. “I don’t get it. Why armor? Although, that looks like it would be really uncomfortable to be cold there.”

Jak gave her moment to figure it out.

“Oh! Cod, like codpiece.” Sina laughed. “I thought it was named for the fish.”

“Yeah, when this was built there was no fishing here,” Jak said. “Just the last rush of ice mining.”

“So, what’s that little building over there with all the antennas, behind the big gates?”

“That’s the Federation Defense Force Signals Intelligence base. We always just called it ‘The Cave,’ though. Rumor has it that it’s actually really huge, but all built underground.”

“You believe that?”

“No,” Jak said, “there’s never enough soldiers around to fill anything bigger than what you see.”

The crowd inside was noisy, the holos displaying a football game between two teams from far-flung colony worlds, with some people cheering when others booed and vice-versa. Jak led Sina to a large communal table where there were a few seats left. She selected two real cod and chips meals and a pitcher of beer with two glasses from the tablet menu and scanned her ident to pay.

“Jak,” Sina said, “that’s too expensive! You should’ve gotten one and I could taste it. I’d be okay with a ham-style protein.”

“No,” Jak said, “tonight is a celebration! Your big break in the art world!”

Their food and beer were brought to the table by a small, pale, bald man, sharp blue eyes peering from beneath heavy blonde eyebrows over perpetually pink cheeks.

“Oh gods! Mister Marcus,” Jak said, “you’re still here!”

“I am,” he said. “Your mother told me you were coming today. I’d hoped you would stop in, and it seems my hopes were well-founded.”

“It’s good to see you, Mister Marcus. You haven’t aged a day.”

He shook his head. “Not true, but look at you, all grown up, a handsome woman. And you don’t need to call me Mister anymore, just Marcus. You look so much like your mother it’s unreal.”

Jak laughed. “Marcus, this is Sina.”

“Nice to meet you, Marcus.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Sina. Take care of Jak now, she likes to get herself into trouble,” he said with a wink.

“A—actually, I think that’s more my thing,” Sina said.

He laughed. “I’ll leave you kids alone. Stop in any time, even if it’s just for a subsidy meal.”

“Thanks, Marcus,” Jak said. “Dig in, Sweets.”

Sina took a hesitant bite of the batter-fried fish and her eyes went wide. “This is… good. It doesn’t taste like fish, though.”

“No, this is fish. ‘Fish-style protein’ doesn’t taste like fish, and neither does the lab-grown stuff.”

They finished their meals and the pitcher of beer. “I like this place,” Sina said. “I can see why you would have fond memories of it.”

“Hey, you showed me your childhood hangouts, now I get to show you mine.”

“Yeah, but a rooftop play yard on Block 214 isn’t as cool as a 400-year-old bar.”

“But my name’s not carved in any walls here.”

Sina leaned her head on Jak’s shoulder. “I think maybe this place carves itself into you, instead.”

“Could be. Let’s get out of here.”

They stepped out into the early evening light and Jak belched, the sound echoing off the buildings.

“Why do you have to be disgusting?” Sina asked.

“At least I didn’t do it inside,” she said.

“Well, you’re learning.” Sina took her hand and led her to the taxi stand. “Maybe Marcus is right, and I’m meant to keep you out of trouble.”

Jak laughed. “Just as soon as I get you domesticated.”

“Why? I’ve got you to pick up after me.” Sina stuck her tongue out and waved her ident at the taxi door to open it up.

“Hey, this was supposed to be my treat.”

“Come on, grumpy. Let’s go spend the rest of the day laying around watching the holo.”

“You do know it’s almost 23:00, right? Your appointment is at 08:00 tomorrow.”

“But the sun…”

“Won’t set any time soon. Land of the midnight sun?”

“Oh,” Sina said, “this is going to be hard to get used to.”

“Not really, unless you get a flat with a window. If you have one, though, the summers aren’t so bad, but the winters get real dark.”

The automated taxi dropped them off in the minus one floor at the lift closest to their flat. They rode up in silence to the 30^th floor.

“Can you imagine what it would cost to get a 30^th floor flat in Bamako?” Sina asked. “It would take most of our income. I wonder if we can get a third floor flat for that here?”

“I doubt it,” Jak said. “There’s far fewer of the non-subsidy flats. Besides, I think the rent rates are set by the Fed, so they’d be the same everywhere.”

They settled into bed and the long day of travel overtook them. By the time Jak awoke, Sina was already dressed and had coffee waiting. Jak sat up and looked at Sina’s clothes from the previous day, strewn about the one-room flat. She was going to say something but thought better of it.

“Coffee for you,” Sina said. “I ordered from the grocery and had some stuff delivered.”

“You’re a goddess,” Jak said. “Messy, but a goddess.”

“Then you’re my high priestess.” Sina handed Jak her coffee and gave her a quick kiss. “Well, the goddess has a planning meeting to get to, and the high priestess needs her caffeine. I’ll call around lunch.”

“See you later.” Jak watched Sina leave, then jumped out of bed. She put Sina’s clothes in the cleaner with her own, made the bed, showered, cleaned up Sina’s mess in the bathroom, dressed, and finally, sat down to enjoy her now-tepid coffee.

She sent off a quick message to her mother, then checked the grocery situation. “Typical Sina.” The groceries she’d had delivered included instant coffee, ready-meals, chocolate, ice cream, creme cakes, and hard candies. Since she needed to register with the jobs office on floor zero, Jak decided she’d pick up some real groceries on the way home.

At the jobs office she found at least one thing had changed since she’d been here last: there were far too many mechanics for the jobs available. Still, she put her name on the list. They didn’t need the money, as the flat was a subsidy flat, and basic food, health care and clothing were guaranteed to all citizens, but she couldn’t sit around doing nothing, and she couldn’t handle living on subsidy ready-meals.

Jak strolled through the grocery, far more concerned about the remaining credits in her account than she had been just an hour earlier. She bypassed several luxuries that she would have enjoyed, focusing instead on staples and less expensive alternatives. Instead of herbs and spices she selected flavoring packets; instead of lab-grown meat she selected pork-style protein.

As she perused the produce section, looking for the lowest-cost potatoes and onions, a deep red caught her eye. Fresh raspberries; Sina would love them. They were natural raspberries, grown locally outdoors. The year-round, hydroponic variety across the aisle were cheaper, but inferior by a wide margin. With a determined huff she added a tray of the good berries to her bag. She winced internally when her comm showed how much she’d been charged for them but carried on.

Back in the flat, she put the groceries away and straightened up the kitchen. She spent the next hour wandering in circles around the flat, trying to figure out what to do to keep herself sane. Maybe I should’ve stayed in Bamako, she thought, then realized she’d miss Sina too much.

Sina called just after 13:00 and Jak put her on the holo. Sina was beaming, her normally bright smile turned up to the max. “Hey Jak! Hope your day is as good as mine!” she chirped.

Jak tried to force a smile. “Signed up at the jobs office and picked up some groceries.”

Sina’s smile dropped. “You don’t sound good. What happened?”

“There’s more mechanics than jobs.”

Sina winked. “That’s okay, you can be my stay-at-home high priestess. The goddess is making enough to keep you entertained now.”

“It’s not that,” Jak said. “I don’t really care about the money. I just don’t know what to do with myself.”

“Well, we know I’m a slob, so—”

“I had the place clean less than an hour after left,” Jak said, “and now….”

#

The rest of the week played out very much the same. The constant cloud hanging over Jak took all the air out of the flat. Sina tried everything she could think of to cheer her up, but it never lasted to the morning. Jak began to worry that her mood was going to force Sina to send her back to Bamako.

On her sixth straight day of work Sina called, and before Jak could say anything said, “Meet me at the Cold Cod at 17:00. My treat this time, and we’ll figure something out.” Sina looked at Jak with one of her rare, soft moods. “We’ll make it work, promise.”

“I love you, too.” They disconnected and Jak flopped onto the bed. She set an alarm for 16:30 to give herself time to get there. She checked her comm to see how much time had passed… twenty minutes. The next time she tried to wait longer and checked again; only twelve minutes had passed. Jak closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, trying to will the whirling thoughts away.

The alarm jolted her to consciousness, and she jumped up, about to get ready for work, then remembered where she was. She worked out her curls with her fingers the best she could, then headed out. Instead of taking a taxi she hopped on a bus. It would take longer to get there, and wasn’t a direct route, but at least it wasn’t costing any credits.

When she stepped off the bus at the Cod, Sina was talking with Marcus out front. He motioned her over and said, “I hear you’re having trouble keeping busy.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I never would’ve thought there’d be too many mechanics.”

“That only lasts until winter,” he said. “Then it’s more work than you can handle.”

“Can’t come soon enough.”

“In the meantime, Sina tells me you’re a good cook.”

“I’m okay, I guess. For cooking at home, that is.”

“I have an offer: you come in here, cook whatever the two of you want for dinner and it’s on the house. If I like the way you work, and you want to work here, I can give you as many hours as you want… until winter.”

Sina’s eyes were wide, expectation clear on her face. “Well?”

“Did you set this up?” Jak asked.

Sina nodded, a concerned look crossing her face.

“Stop that, you. I’ll take you up on that, Marcus.” Jak smiled. “You have steak, mushrooms, beef stock, and egg noodles?”

“Of course. Lab-grown steak, not steak-style protein.”

“How does beef stroganoff sound?”

“Only if you make three,” Sina said. “Marcus should eat with us.”

“Deal,” Marcus said. “Now, let’s get you in the kitchen and make sure you don’t burn the place down.”

Most of the kitchen was automated, including the fryers and grills. Jak moved away from those to the unoccupied manual section of the kitchen. Marcus watched from a distance as she sliced, sautéed, and made the sauce while a pot of water waited for the noodles. She added the noodles to the water and the beef to the sauce, and in just a few more minutes it was done. Thirty minutes start to finish.

She plated three large servings and looked to Marcus for approval. Cooking at home was fine, but it felt better, somehow, to be cooking in an industrial kitchen. Still, it took her a while, and she didn’t think that would be something that would be okay in a busy place like the Cod.

The three of them sat down to eat. Sina and Jak watched for Marcus’ reaction. He took the first bite and nodded. “I would’ve added a touch more garlic, but this is very good. If you want a job here, you’ve got it.”

“I don’t know the first thing about your fryers or any of that.”

“You can learn,” he said. “You have the basics, and your timing is good.”

“But it takes me so long…”

“That comes with practice. I bet you weren’t a fast mechanic when you first started.”

“No,” Jak said, still unsure about it all. “If you’re just doing this because you know my mother…”

“Hush. I’m doing this because I need help, and Sina needs help keeping you out of trouble.”

Sina grabbed her hand under the table. “Can I start tomorrow?” Jak asked. It wasn’t her first choice for work, but it would keep her busy until the winter, and she wouldn’t have to leave. She could stay here with the woman she loved, and that was all that mattered.