Bobby watched as Mic approached the ship's entrance, his small fingers dancing over a hidden control panel. With a groan of protesting metal, the door slid open, only to stutter and jam halfway.
"Oh, blast it all!" Mic exclaimed, his moustache twitching in frustration. He gave the door a solid kick, which seemed to do the trick. The door jerked open the rest of the way, revealing a compact airlock and an extendable ramp.
"She's just being stubborn," Mic said, patting the hull affectionately. "Come on, then!"
As they ascended the small ramp, Bobby couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. It wasn't until he reached the airlock that he realised what it was.
"Oof," he grunted, hunching over to avoid hitting his head on the low ceiling. "Bit cramped in here, isn't it?"
Mic turned, his eyes widening, as if seeing Bobby's height for the first time. "Oh! Right, um, sorry about that. Guess I forgot to mention... she's built to gnome specifications."
Bobby chuckled, despite the discomfort. "You don't say?" He had to bend almost double to fit through the airlock, his back already protesting. "I'm going to have a crick in my neck by the time we're done here."
Mic had the grace to look sheepish. "We don't get many tall folk in gnomish ships. But don't worry! Once we're in the main cabin, you should have a bit more headroom. Well, a bit."
Bobby ducked and weaved through the narrow corridors, following Mic's excited chatter. His neck already ached from the constant stooping, but curiosity pushed him forward. They emerged into a larger space that seemed to serve multiple purposes.
"Welcome to the heart of the Starling's Gearshift!" Mic announced, spreading his arms wide. The gnome didnt have to duck, while Bobby still felt like a giant in a dollhouse.
The cabin was a hodgepodge of equipment and furnishings. What looked like a pilot's chair faced a cluttered dashboard, while a small table and bench seats occupied another corner. Bits of machinery and tools littered every surface.
Mic scurried to the control panel, his fingers flying over a bewildering array of switches and dials. "Now, let's see if we can't wake her up," he muttered.
Bobby watched as the gnome worked, occasionally muttering curses under his breath. With a bang, the cabin came alive with a cacophony of sounds and flickering lights.
"Ha! There we go!" Mic exclaimed as systems hummed to life around them.
The lighting was far from stable, however. Panels blinked on and off at random intervals, while others remained stubbornly dark. A low, uneven thrum filled the air, punctuated by occasional whines and clicks from unseen machinery.
"Is it... supposed to sound like that?" Bobby asked, eyeing an ominous-looking gauge that was swinging wildly.
Mic waved a hand. "Oh, she's just clearing her throat, so to speak."
Bobby wasn't convinced, but he had to admire the gnome's optimism. He lowered himself into a seat, wincing as it creaked under his weight.
Bobby hunched over as Mic guided him through the cramped cockpit, his head brushing the low ceiling. The gnome's enthusiasm was infectious, even as Bobby struggled to make sense of the chaotic array of controls and displays before him.
"Right, so this here's our main flight console," Mic explained, gesturing to a panel covered in blinking lights and switches. "Bit temperamental at the moment, but she'll come around."
Bobby squinted at a cracked screen, its display flickering between star charts and static. "And this?"
"Navigation system!" Mic beamed. "Well, when it's working. Took a nasty hit during the crash. But look here—" He pointed to a functioning holographic display. "This beauty shows our current position relative to major celestial bodies. Dead useful for interplanetary travel."
Bobby's eyes widened. "Interplanetary? You mean this thing can—"
"Oh yes! The Starling's Gearshift isn't just some atmospheric hopper. She's built for deep space exploration!"
As Mic rambled on about warp drives and quantum fluctuations, Bobby's gaze drifted to a panel of gauges. Most were dark or damaged, but a few still sputtered to life.
"What about these?" he asked, interrupting Mic's enthusiastic lecture on theoretical physics.
"Ah, those monitor our life support systems. Oxygen levels, artificial gravity, that sort of thing." Mic tapped one of the functioning gauges. "This one here's particularly important. Keeps track of our shield integrity."
Bobby frowned. "Shields?"
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Mic chuckled. "Reinforced energy fields to protect against space debris and radiation. Essential for long-distance travel."
As the tour continued, Bobby found himself both impressed and overwhelmed. The technology was far beyond anything he'd encountered, even with his newfound abilities. Yet for all its complexity, the ship felt... fragile. Damaged. A patchwork of functioning systems barely holding together.
"It's a lot to take in," Bobby admitted, rubbing his sore neck.
Mic nodded. "Oh, I know. But don't you worry! We'll have her shipshape in no time. Well, maybe a bit more than no time. But we'll get there! But first I, um, need to get the comms working again."
Bobby watched with fascination as Mic scurried beneath the communication console, his stubby fingers working to remove a panel. The gnome's face scrunched in concentration, muttering to himself as he delved into the ship's innards.
"Now, let's see what we've got here," Mic mumbled, pulling out a tangle of wires and crystals.
Bobby leaned in closer, marvelling at the complexity of the alien technology. Mic's hands moved with practiced ease, swapping out crystals and rerouting connections. Each component seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, casting faint, multicoloured glows across the gnome's furrowed brow.
"Hmm, not that one," Mic grumbled, tossing aside a cracked crystal. He reached deeper into the console, fishing out another. "Maybe this'll do the trick."
As Mic worked, Bobby couldn't help but feel a mix of awe and frustration. The ship's systems were so far beyond his understanding, beyond even human technology even, he wagered the government would love to get their hands on it.
If there's any government left. He thought.
Mic's enthusiasm gave way to frustration. His "humph" noises grew more frequent, punctuated by the occasional curse in what Bobby assumed was Gnomish. Finally, the inventor sat back on his heels, shaking his head.
"That won't do at all," Mic sighed, his moustache drooping. "We're missing something crucial here."
Before Bobby could ask what they needed, Mic was on his feet. "I've got an idea," he announced, already scurrying towards another part of the ship. "Wait here, I'll be right back!"
And just like that, Bobby found himself alone in the alien craft's cockpit. The silence felt oppressive after Mic's constant chatter, broken only by the irregular hum and beep of the ship's damaged systems.
Bobby watched Mic disappear into the cramped hold, leaving him alone in the peculiar silence of the alien craft. Standing up, he dropped to a squat position and stretched his neck, grateful for the momentary reprieve from hunching over. His eyes roamed the cluttered space, taking in details he'd missed during Mic's whirlwind tour.
The gnomish influence was evident everywhere. Panels and controls sat at awkward heights for Bobby, clearly designed for smaller hands. Intricate gears and mechanisms peeked out from half-open panels, a testament to Mic's constant tinkering.
Bobby ran his fingers along the edge of what appeared to be a fold-out table. The fold-out table was scarred with burn marks and stains from countless experiments. Scattered tools and bits of machinery covered its surface, each item a mystery to him.
He turned his attention to a small alcove that might be called a kitchenette. Every available space was wedged with miniature appliances. Bobby's gaze lingered on a contraption that looked like a cross between a coffee maker and a chemistry set.
Rem's dry voice echoed in Bobby's mind.
Bobby suppressed a chuckle. Wasn't planning on it. Though an extra arm might come in handy.
Bobby stepped back from the cluttered shelves, his mind brimming with questions. The alien technology surrounding him was fascinating, but it also highlighted how little he understood about this new world.
Near the pilot's chair, a shelf held an eclectic collection of items. Bobby squinted at what looked like a family photo. Three grinning gnomes stared back at him. A younger Mic, a woman with Mic's nose, and a small girl with pigtails. Bobby's chest tightened, remembering Mic's missing daughter.
A glint of metal drew his gaze to a strange device next to the photo. It resembled a pocket watch, but with far too many hands and dials. Bobby reached out, curiosity overcoming caution, but stopped short as Rem's previous warning echoed in his mind.
Bobby pulled his hand back, chuckling. "Last thing we need is me accidentally blowing us up or something." he muttered to himself.
He continued his careful inspection, marvelling at the blend of advanced technology and cobbled-together repairs. The ship felt alive in a way, battered but resilient. It reminded Bobby of Mic himself—scrappy, ingenious, and refusing to give up.
Bobby leaned against the console, careful not to disturb any of the delicate instruments.
Rem, what do you know about gnomes and their clans? Mic mentioned he was just a lowly clan member earlier.
Bobby raised an eyebrow. You sound like you've had some experience with them.
Bobby nodded, suppressing a chuckle at Rem's dry humour. What about their behaviour? Mic seems pretty comfortable around me now, but he was pretty nervous at first.
Bobby was about to ask what Rem meant by "interesting" when a clattering from the ship's hold interrupted his thoughts. Mic's voice rang out, triumphant and muffled.
"Haha! I've got it!"
The gnome reappeared, his arms wrapped around a contraption that looked like a crystal ball mated with a car battery. He grinned up at Bobby, his flushed face filled with excitement leaving his moustache quivering.
"This little beauty," Mic declared, hefting the object with a grunt, "is just the ticket for getting our comms back online! Er, assuming I can get it to play nice with the existing systems, that is."
Bobby bit back a smile, careful not to react to Rem's commentary. Instead, he nodded at Mic and said, "That's great. What's our next step?"
As Mic launched into a technical explanation, Bobby found himself caught between the gnome's enthusiastic chatter and Rem's sarcastic asides, wondering just what he'd gotten himself into.