‘Of course I will.’
‘Okay,’ Jane said. ‘That’s good.’ She took a breath, raised her knife, and got to work.
Feed source: unknown Encryption: 4
Translation: 0
Transcription: 0
Node identifier: unknown
Post subject: REPOST – Seeking heavily-altered derelict shuttle, see full post for details pinch: i’m searching for a Centaur 46-C, approximately 25 standards old, extensively repaired and altered. few parts left in original factory condition. faded tan hull, photovoltaic coating. if you have any information about its current location, please message me. you don’t have to have it, just know where it is.
fluffyfluffycake: good luck, as always FunkyFronds: i swear, i could sync my clocks by when this post goes up. where did the past eight tendays go?
tishtesh: how long are you gonna keep reposting this pinch: until i find it
Part 2
PULL
SIDRA
Sorting tech supplies was boring, but boring had become preferable. Boring meant there was nothing to worry about. Boring was safe.
Sidra logged inventory as she worked. Seven bolts. She placed them in their bin. Two tethering cables. She placed them in their bin. One regulator grid – or . . . wait. ‘Pepper?’ she called, craning the kit’s head toward the workshop door.
‘One sec,’ Pepper called from the front counter, shouting over her welding torch. The security shield around the shop had been flickering when they got in that morning. Probably just some wiring that wore out, Pepper said, but it bothered Sidra enough that her host had wasted no time in starting repairs. Over the past twenty-six days, Sidra had been particular about locking doors, closing windows, avoiding customers she hadn’t seen before. She felt it best to volunteer for boring jobs that kept her in the workshop, out of sight. Sorting supplies fit the bill, and it was a task that Pepper was always happy to relinquish.
The torch hissed quiet, and Pepper stuck her head through the doorway. ‘What’s up?’
Sidra showed her the part in the kit’s hand. ‘I don’t know what this is.’
‘That,’ Pepper said, squinting, ‘is an overload buffer.’
Sidra made record of that. ‘Where should I put it?’
Pepper looked over her hand-labelled bins. ‘Just toss it in with the other regulators. I’ll remember it’s there.’ She smirked at Sidra. ‘And so will you.’
The kit smiled as Sidra filed away the overload buffer’s location into her workshop storage log. ‘I will.’
There was a pause. ‘So,’ Pepper said, clearing her throat, ‘Blue and I were thinking about closing up shop and doing something fun tomorrow.’
Sidra didn’t reply.
‘They’re having an adults-only day at the Bouncehouse,’ Pepper continued hopefully. ‘Only takes an hour to get up there, and it’s real kick in the pants.’
Sidra knew of the Bouncehouse – a giant zero-g playground housed in a low-orbit satellite. She’d seen its designated shuttle port near the Undersea station at Kukkesh, seen the big flashing sign that pictured a laughing, multispecies group of youngsters diving through ringed obstacle courses and playing with globs of floating water. It did look like fun.
She’d already guessed what Pepper was going to say next: ‘You want to come with?’
Sidra picked up another part – an air tube – and put it in its bin. ‘I think I’ll just stay home,’ she said, forcing the kit to smile. ‘You two have a good time.’
Pepper started to say something, but she swallowed it, her eyes sad. ‘Okay.’ She nodded. ‘I’m gonna order lunch soon, do you want—’
‘Hello?’ a voice called from the counter.
‘Be right there,’ Pepper called back. She squeezed the kit’s shoulder, and headed out. ‘What can I – oh. Uh, hi.’
Sidra couldn’t see what was going on, but the shift in Pepper’s tone was palpable. All at once, Sidra’s pathways were on edge. Was there trouble? Was she in trouble? Pepper’s voice and the other spoke to each other in a hush, too low for Sidra to pick up. She leaned in, straining to hear.
‘. . . I told you,’ she heard Pepper say. ‘I’m not her keeper. She’s her own person. That’s totally up to her.’
Sidra’s curiosity overpowered her concern about the unknown, and slowly, slowly, she peeked around the edge of the door. A pair of eyes looked past Pepper as soon as she did so.
It was Tak.
‘Hi,’ Tak said, with an awkward Human-style wave of her hand. Her expression was friendly, but her cheeks told a different story. She was nervous, unsure. The sight did nothing to slow Sidra’s processes down.