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)
Gods, she’s not going away, is she? I bite back my sigh. “Cremated.”
“Ah. And your family?”
“I’m it.”
Her voice softens. “Are you sure you’re all right, Mardok? I think of you like one of my sons, and you just don’t seem to be yourself lately. I worry, that’s all. Got nothing to do but look after you and Trakan on these long voyages. Captain Chatav’s so healthy he doesn’t even need a damn medic.”
I grunt. She’s not wrong. Chatav’s very into balanced nutrition bars instead of meals, and drinks nothing but herbal teas. Works out every day in the ship gym and can probably bench press my entire body without breaking a sweat. Trakan’s skinny and thin. I’m muscled, but I don’t bulk. It’d look ridiculous with my bionic arm. As if my missing arm knows I’m thinking about it, it aches, and I flex my hand. Even with a metal arm and six years of living with it under my belt, the phantom pain doesn’t go away. Probably never will. “Promise I’m fine.”
I don’t know what to say to her. The words stick in my throat. What do I tell someone like Niri, who’s acerbic and cusses like any soldier but has the heart of the softest kitten? She’d never understand my relationship with my father. That we fell apart when my mother died and our last conversations together were angry, bitter ones. That I got the call two days after he died, and we never had final words to say to each other. That our last ones were full of hatred. That he thought I was a weakling for leaving the military behind, even after it shattered my body and nearly broke my mind. I still dream about the people on Uzocar IV, and my men. I still hear them screaming. In my mind, I still hear the ship flying away…without us on it. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can smell the bodies of the dead. It still kefs with my sleep.
My father’s funeral was a military one. Being there around all those soldiers? Brought back all the hell I’ve worked for six years to bury. Made me remember, when I took a job on The Tranquil Lady specifically to forget. Which reminds me. “You still got the sleep meds I like, Niri?”
“I do.” The concern creeps back into her voice. “You’re not sleeping again?”
“Not enough.” I want to leave it at that, but my artificial arm cramps up with another phantom pain and I nearly drop the wrench I’m holding. I pull away from the half-dismantled engine and glance over at her. There’s concern written all over her pale blue face, almost comical given the amount of ice forming on the decorative metal capping her horns. “Just tired,” I add, and rub my face with my good hand. “Sometimes I’m not sure what I’m doing here. Captain deserves a better mech.”
“You know this crew. We hire people that don’t ask questions.” She reaches out and pats my arm. “Besides, you’re so big that you’re security as well as mech. Two for one. You know Chatav’s a cheap bastard.”
I snort. That he is. “Go inside, Niri. I’m fine, I promise. We’ll talk later.”
She nods and pulls her thin sweater tighter around her frame. “I’ll get those meds for you and we’ll chat. Dinner?”
“Dinner’s good. Thanks.” It’ll make her feel better to mother me for a few hours.
Niri gives me a faint smile and heads back inside, her tail flicking in the wind.
I’m alone again with my thoughts and the snow. I watch her leave, contemplating. Maybe she’s right and I’ve been more silent than usual, sloppier on the job. I don’t mind being a mech. I don’t even mind being security. Ever since my father’s death, though…I’m just tired. Hollowed out. Like nothing’s left of me after the war on Rede System IV. Thought I’d gotten better at handling it, but after the funeral, I think I realized I haven’t been handling it at all. I’ve just buried it, and seeing my father—my angry, proud, bitter father—put into a coffin pushed me right back over the edge again.
I sigh to myself and return to my work, tugging at a loose screw. Shouldn’t matter that I’m nothing but broken parts inside. That’s why people crew on long-distance freighters like The Tranquil Lady. Got nothing going on in their lives. I go back to work, filling my mind with the problem at hand and not problems long gone. Don’t want that shit in my head.
I don’t know how long I’m working after that. I lose myself in the gears that fit together, the small, intricate parts that play such a vital role in the complex engine of the ship. It’s like a puzzle, and I enjoy figuring out which pieces are needing attention. I’m lost in thought, my hands around an oily gear, when I hear a sound behind me. It’s a gasp, small and feminine. Niri. I pull my filthy hands free and glance over my shoulder.