Space was really, really big.
She chewed her lip. “Can we—um, call Dutch? Can you send a message to Zen’s ship?”
“Do you truly believe I have not already attempted that transmission?”
“I don’t know! You said you only trusted him six point seven percent.”
“My range for communication proved insufficient to summon Zenthielutos. The next solution is yours to determine. Captain.”
“Allright,” Torian retorted, burying her head in her hands. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Freedom to travel anywhere, control of her own ship. Starship Day had been a much-anticipated holiday… and it culminatedexactlylike Amelia had predicted.
Dead in space.
Fucking fantastic.
Torian scrubbed her face, then turned to the flight deck’s control panel, analyzing the holoscreens. “I can’t do anything until you’ve cooled that engine down. Then we’ll have to see if I can fix us enough, somehow, so we can limp to the nearest station. Which is…” She paused, checking coordinates, doing calculations. “Ugh. Colony 4.”
“You dislike Colony 4?”
Torian snorted. “No one likes Colony 4.” She shored her resolve,tapping her chin. “Okay. I need coffee, or ravla, orsomething. I need to properly review the engine schematics. And I’m going to need every tool or spare part we can find, just in case I can retrofit anything.”
Moss said, “Curious. After our failed attempt to fix the engine on Vaesa, my scenario subsystem predicted you would spend these hours welding a model starship while we awaited a theoretical rescue. Captain.”
“Gee, thanks.” Torian rolled her shoulders, pushing out of her chair.
Time to get to work.
Of course, she made it exactly as far as creating an absolute mess in the living area before a happypingsounded throughout the ship. Torian glanced up, perplexed, but Moss intoned, “Your rescue has arrived.”
“Our rescue.”
“I am not the one who needs constant nourishment.”
Torian snorted. “How do you fare without power or light?”
“I am moss, which is the most resilient flora in the galaxy. The answer is: Very well, thank you.”
Torian rolled her eyes and folded the massive blueprints. They were printed on a semblance of paper, but written in nylarian. Since her translator only worked with speech and Moss didn’t appreciate being relegated to “nylarian dictionary,” it was slow going. Torian was more than ready for a break.
Nonessential pieces of theDestitutewere strewn about the mossy floor, and Torian hopped over them on her way to the flight deck. “Okay, well, who found us? Is it Zen?”
“It appears to be a human vessel.”
Lingering caution from her time with Amelia’s crew made her pause. Her mind flashed back to Amelia warning about smugglers with no morals, pirates cruising open space, thugs with maliciousintent preying on a broken starship. If an enemy starship was big enough to latch on to them and tow them into a cargo bay, they were fucked.
“What’s the ship’s name?”
“They didn’t provide one. Only that they are ‘willing to offer assistance.’ Their ship is too far to manually assess via the exterior camera, but it is fast approaching.” Moss paused. “Good luck, Captain. I hope you don’t die.”
“Thanks,” Torian deadpanned.
As she climbed the stairs onto the flight deck, only the glimmering of distant stars and expansive darkness met her. She slid into the pilot’s seat, craning to look through the window—but nothing. A glance at radar showed the ship was strategically positioning behind theDestitute, away from the cargo bay camera, obfuscating its size and shape.
Not good.
Torian flicked through a couple other screens, hunting for more information. They hadn’t offered an ID number. She could ask for one? Those were much harder to spoof than a ship’s printed name…
Not that she had a databank to track it against. Moss only knew what it had observed from a hundred years on Colony 13. It wouldn’t have a comprehensive list of registered human starships. Even if it did, that wouldn’t tell Torian their reputations.
