Page 27 of Reformation
“It’s a flying basket. It’s the space equivalent of a ship’s graveyard come back to life—it’s azombieship. Have you ever heard of zombies before? Because this thing is one of them.”
“Ten—”
“They have an average of three leaks a day on this ship. Three! A day! We’re talking hull breaches here, and I don’t care if it’slittleones; when the part of your ship that keeps you from decompressing and freezing inspaceis malfunctioning, you need to dedicate some time to it, not just keep slapping patches on and calling it good.”
“I know, I—”
“That’s why the kit is important, okay?” Ten stopped pacing and looked at Cody. “I know you think I’m overreacting, and that this stuff isn’t necessary, but itis, and not just because someone might do something stupid and malicious. It’s an anti-accident kit too. It could keep you alive, and I’d give you one even if you weren’t a natural. I don’t care about that, you know I don’t.”
“I know.” Cody got up and straightened his clothes. “And I know you’re wearing one too, so it makes me feel a little better. Same gear?”
“Mostly.”
“Ten …”
“I know you don’t like the shocker, but that thing has saved my ass several times, and I’m smaller than you. People are going to try to take advantage of that.” They stepped off Jacks’ ship and headed toward the hall that led to engineering.
“It might not be as bad as you think.”
Ten snorted. “You’re the most annoyingly optimistic person I’ve ever met, and keep in mind, I knowGrennson. You leave him in the nether, though.”
Cody shrugged. “Why borrow trouble when we’re not going to have any shortage of it ourselves?”
“Hence the need for the kits.”
They made it to engineering with a minute to spare, not that it seemed to matter. The compartment was immense, like an ancient depiction of a hive of bees, full of ladders and corridors and people, each one moving with purpose, some of them accompanied by sparks.
“Fun,” Cody said, looking around.
“Tragic,” Ten corrected. “Fucking tragic. A first-year Academy student could organize a workplace better than this.”
“I guess we need to find ourselves something to do.”
Ten’s idleness, at least, was put to an end the second a small, slender woman with dark skin and neon-bright hair saw hir standing in the doorway. “Hey, you!” Ten glanced at her way. “Yeah, you! Whatshirname, Tiennan.”
“Ten.”
“Whatever. You know how to weld?”
“Does a baby know how to drink milk and shit?”
The woman rolled her eyes. “Answer the question, smartass.”
“Yes,” Ten said, enunciating clearly. “I can weld. Any idiot can weld.”
“But I need an idiot who can do it in tight quarters, and Corva said we’re to keep you kids working, so!” She clapped Ten on the shoulder, knocking hir forward a step. “My name’s Livia, and you’re coming with me to sanitation. We’ve got a containment issue.”
“Joy,” Ten said sourly. “And Cody?”
“Eh, the little prince will find work for himself soon enough, right?” She glanced disinterestedly at Cody, who just shrugged and smiled at Ten.
“I’ll be fine. You go have fun in sanitation.”
“I hate you.”
It was unfair how Cody’s grin made Ten’s heart rate pick up so reliably. “I know.”
“Enough sweet-talking, kid.” The woman pushed an old-fashioned portable arc welder into Ten’s hand, along with an apron and a pair of goggles that had clearly seen better days. “You ready to get down and dirty?”
