Page 149 of Red Scale Daddy
“A complete correction requires redesign of your predictive compensation system, integration of live shear mapping, and modification of the drive-response timing. Your current hardware can support some of that. It cannot support all of it without fabrication I do not currently have.”
“You had such systems aboard your vessel.”
“Yes.”
“Then you can reproduce them.”
“Some components, yes. Others require materials, calibration data, and tools your engineers may or may not possess.”
Throgg studies me for several long seconds. Behind him, the drive assembly hums with a deep, uneven rhythm, like a giant heart with a damaged valve. I listen to it carefully. The third pulse always arrives late. The distributor stutters before the heat exchangers compensate. If I can reach that control chain again, I can teach it to fail when I choose.
“You will provide the first correction,” Throgg says.
“I will provide a stabilizing modification.”
“That sounds smaller.”
“It is smaller.”
“Why?”
“Because if I attempt a full redesign without understanding every one of your ship’s undocumented modifications, I risk cascade failure.”
“And if you are lying?”
“Then your engineers can install my first correction under supervision and verify the improvement before giving me access to anything more sensitive.”
His gaze lingers on my face.
“You offer me caution.”
“I offer you survivable progress.”
He steps closer, close enough that I can see the fine scoring across his armor near the collar, thin lines where heat or blades once tested him and failed to matter. “You want time.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“To keep being alive.”
His expression suggests amusement, though he does not smile fully. “That is only part of the truth.”
“It is the part currently relevant to you.”
“Careful, Roma Larson.”
The sound of my name in his mouth makes my skin tighten.
I hold my ground.
“I am careful,” I say. “That is why your ship will still function after I touch it.”
He considers this, then gestures toward the nearest engineer. “Give her access to the secondary diagnostic panel. Nothing beyond that.”
The engineer hesitates.
Throgg’s gaze shifts.
