Page 187 of Red Scale Daddy
“Security lock,” he murmurs.
“How long?”
“Longer if you keep breathing on my neck.”
“That your delicate way of asking for space?”
“It is my delicate way of saying your head is blocking the maintenance light.”
I shift just enough to let him work. “Better?”
“Marginally.”
His tools whisper against the panel, cutting and probing with quiet precision. The outer casing releases with a soft click, and a narrow service conduit opens into darkness beyond. A wash of air passes over my faceplate, filtered and cold, carrying a faint chemical tang from Reaper atmosphere systems.
Pally extends a sensor wand into the conduit. “Motion grid cycles every eight seconds. Thermal sweeps every twelve. Pressure alerts on major displacement.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you are too large to move through this elegantly.”
“I do most things inelegantly.”
“That is not reassurance.”
“Never claimed it was.”
He slides in first, which irritates me until I realize the conduit angles sharply around a sensor relay too delicate for my weight. His body disappears into the crawlspace, boots scraping softly against the interior plating. I follow slower, shoulders compressing against the walls, forearms braced carefully to keep from tearing through something important. The Reaper ship hums around us, a deep and orderly vibration so differentfrom Pally’s patched little survivor vessel that it feels less like machinery and more like a disciplined threat.
“Left hand on the lower brace,” Pally whispers through the comm. “Do not touch the upper conduit.”
I move my hand. “This upper conduit?”
“Dux.”
“Kidding.”
“I am armed.”
“With tools.”
“With tools I understand.”
“Fair point.”
We crawl for several meters while the maintenance spine shudders around us. Somewhere beyond the walls, heavy systems shift power through the ship in controlled pulses. I hear it through my palms: shields cycling, coolant surging, weapons charging and relaxing in readiness. The whole vessel feels awake.
Pally stops ahead of me.
“What?” I ask.
“Internal junction. Two guards beyond the hatch.”
“Good.”
“No.”
“No?”
