The beam moved slowly forward, constructing its work. It was more focused than the wide sweep, layering metal together, forming the ship from front to back. It was huge, a magnificent leviathan made of sweeping soft shapes and organic curves. It was beautiful.
“Right you scumbags.” Murt’s voice was rattling through speakers, transmitting from the ship carrying him. “Looks like our new friends came through for us. Real impressed. Let’s stake our claim and get to work!”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Michael was sweating, sticky liquid trickling down his brow. Patches were growing under the arms of his shirt, his jacket hung over his shoulder. The white had long since faded, beaten by everything three separate planets and a week in an unknown spaceship had thrown at it. The wash had removed some of the stains, but not all of them, and the outfit was now a jumble of conflicting shades.
“God, it’s so hot,” Michael said, wiping his face with the arm of his jacket. “How the hell do these guys cope?”
“Practice,” Aileena said. In her hands was a large L-shaped piece of metal, a thin rubber hose running from the bottom of it and across the floor to a large red metal cylinder that hummed loudly. A brilliant blue light sprung from the end, and she was using it to slowly cut through thick metal.
“I call bullshit on practice. How do you practice for this? Sit in an oven for a bit?”
The newly constructed ship had been searingly hot, the energy from the beam imparting a ferocious amount of energy. The salvage crews had circled for a few hours, waiting for the metal to cool enough that it was safe. Of course, safe and comfortable were two entirely different things.
The other crews had come, of course, drawn by the promise of new and exciting salvage. An entire ship had proven quite the draw, but the others had kept their distance. Whilst the salvage ships weren’t armed, the crews within them very much were. Two large cannons had been rolled out from the ships that held them and planted atop the still-warm hull of the capital ship. A very aggressive statement of intent. Michael had asked if it would be enough to ward off the other crews and Murt had been quite sure. The risk of losing a salvage ship was too great, even for such a prize.
“Some water, knower?” Mellok was carrying a large plastic tray, upon which several large black canteens wobbled. The Cortican had proven more than useless at physical labour, flinching at the plasma torches and struggling to lift sheets of metal, so instead, he had been pressed into use as a water carrier.
Michael took one, unscrewing the lid and guzzling the contents inside. The water had a slight metallic tang, but in the blistering heat tasted better than any Michael had ever had before. “Thanks, Mellok. Any idea how long we’ll be?” It had been slow going. The beam had built the ship, but the vessel refused to turn on. All the doors were sealed, meaning they had to cut their way through each section one at a time. It didn’t help that Murt’s men kept stopping to strip panels from the walls, or to rip expensive components from the floors.
“At this pace? Maybe two or three days?” Mellok offered the tray to Aileena, who gratefully took a canteen.
“Two or three days? Why? We could just cut a path straight to the engine room and be done with it.”
“Why would Murt do that? As long as we need the matrix, he’s got himself a few extra workers for free,” Aileena said as she unscrewed the lid from her canteen.
“I thought you would want to get out of here. The quicker we’re back in flight, the quicker we’re to Cortica. Then you’re free to take your money and leave.”
Aileena took a long gulp of her water. “Whilst true, I long ago learnt you should do what the experts do. If these guys want to take it slow, a bit at a time, then we follow their lead. This is their planet, their lives.”
“When in Rome,” Michael said.
“Yes?” Mellok was looking up at Michael, waiting for more to follow. “When in Rome?”
“Do what the Romans do? You know, follow the locals, like Aileena is saying.”
“And Rome is?” The feathered alien looked confused, his feathers quivering as he thought.
“A city. It would be like saying… when in Cortica, do what the Cortican’s do.” Michael downed the rest of the water. It felt cool as it ran down his throat.
Mellok looked at him. It was often difficult to tell what he was thinking, his facial structure was just too different. No lips to smile with, no eyebrows to scowl. He didn’t even have external ears, unlike their recent addition to the crew who seemed to punctuate every emotion with a series of differing flicks.
“That makes sense. Truly, that is some profound wisdom, knower.” Mellok turned, wandering off towards the others working in the ship. “When in Cortica, do what the Corticans do,” he muttered as he disappeared down the corridor.
“It’s just a saying on… and he’s gone.” Michael slumped back against the wall of the corridor. He jumped forward as he felt heat flooding through his shirt onto his skin. It was still too hot for comfort. “I would like to say something, or do something, that isn’t immediately construed as being some holy bollocks. You know how hard this is, people hanging on your every word? Just waiting for you to peel off words of wisdom at the drop of a hat? It’s difficult, I’m not some words machine that can just spew them out whenever I want.”
Aileena turned away from him, picking up the cutting torch from where she had left it on the floor. “Could have fooled me. Sometimes I think you like the sound of your own voice.” The light burst back to life as she pressed a small button on the side. With another press, the light seemed to become impossibly dim, some strange alien technology screening their eyes from the torch as Aileena began to drag it across the doorway she had been working on.
“I just… I talk when I think. It helps me process my thoughts. It’s why I do it when I’m nervous. Or stressed. Or being, you know, kidnapped by space aliens. I’m trying to puzzle my way out of it, or at least try and not die immediately. It’s funny, you kind of get used to that, huh? I’m surrounded by armed men of dubious loyalty, trapped in a searing hot starship, which itself is being circled by rival gangs looking for a way in, and I’m only mildly worried.”
“You shouldn’t be worried at all.” Aileena switched the torch off and placed it on the ground. She pressed against the door with her shoulder. “I meant what I said in the ship, I could take all of these guys.” Aileena heaved and the metal square she had cut fell away, clanging onto the floor. Beyond was only darkness, the dull lights the salvagers had strung along as they went struggling to push back the black.
“You’re that confident?”
Aileena smiled. “You have to be in my game. That split second of doubting yourself gets you killed.” She stepped through the doorway and turned to face Michael. “Look, for once, no-one is trying to kill you, or have you slay some monster, or throw you into an arena. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Roaring noise gave way to silence as the tiny ship crashed through the atmosphere of Arkessa. It wasn’t one of the salvage transports that periodically left the surface, jumping away to sell their goods. Instead, it was a small courier vessel, a minuscule two-man ship that was barely holding together. Its engine was leaking radiation behind it in a great invisible cloud, poorly maintained shielding losing energy to the void.