That—that’s my ship. I always thought Remus was one of a kind, but as I stand in the docking ring of Pajorat Prime, I find myself confronted with evidence to the contrary. I stare in disbelief at what looks to be a carbon copy of the ship I was just working on, the one sitting inside of Chrysanthemum’s docking bay at this very moment. The hull is slightly less crumpled, sure, but otherwise, it’s an exact replica.

Remus is what you’d call a “junkcraft.” Not because it’s junk, though I’m sure there are some who would disagree, but because it’s a non-standard single-production vessel. It’s an original. Or so I thought.

I’ve been having trouble getting my engine system restored, and figured who better to ask for help than the person with the ship that looks just like mine. Luckily for me, it looks like he’s around.

“Hey!” I shout to the man crouched atop the ship. He seems to be checking the bolts of the hull one by one, an arduous if unnecessary task, and neither responds to nor acknowledges my greeting.

“Hello!” I try, waving an arm to try and get his attention. But he still doesn’t so much as look up.

“Guy on the ship who’s trying really hard to ignore me!” Still nothing.

I sigh in frustration.

“You can shout as much as you want, but he still can’t hear you,” a voice behind me says. I turn around with a start. The woman standing there looks at me with amusement. “He’s deaf,” she says.

“Sorry,” I start. “I just—”

“Why are you sorry?” she asks flatly. “It’s not your fault he’s deaf.”

“Right,” I say as she walks past me toward the ship. “Is he,” I fumble, trying to recover, “I mean, this ship, is it—”

“Romulus is mine,” the woman says, walking around to the side of the ship and tossing a worn leather bag into the cockpit.

Romulus, huh?

“It’s a pretty interesting looking ship,” I say.

“Only one like it,” the woman replies, hopping up onto the front of the hull.

“You sure about that?” I ask with a smirk.

“Am I sure?” she scoffs, turning to give me a searing glare. “Nifty and I built it ourselves,” she says, nodding toward the man with the boltgun atop the ship. “There is, quite literally, no other ship like it in the known universe.”

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

That might be a bit of a stretch, but I nod, making a note to myself not to make any further insinuations about people’s ships. I watch as the woman ascends the hull of the ship, stopping on a rung halfway up to curse under her breath.

“What is it?” I ask. “Crack in the Whipple?”

“Yep,” she groans. “They got me pretty good.”

“You got a cold torch I can toss up?”

She rests a hand on her leg, biting her lip in thought.

“Yeah,” she calls down after a moment. “It’s probably under the—”

“Got it,” I say, returning with torch in hand before she can even finish her sentence. “You ready?”

She holds her hands open, ready to receive the torch. I toss it up to her, and she catches it easily.

“You need any help up there?” I call up.

“Thanks,” she answers, “but I’ve already got the best mechanic in the galaxy.” She smiles at Nifty, still busy checking bolts.

I stand there awkwardly for a few minutes, studying the familiar exterior of the ship as I try to figure out how to broach the subject at hand. The woman notices me and sets down the torch.

“Why are you still here?” she calls down.

“I need your help,” I confess.

“There it is,” she says with a knowing smile. I smile sheepishly back at her.

“It’s just that I saw your ship, and it looks so much like mine that I—” I catch myself. “I mean, I think I blew something on my UCFE but I can’t figure out what.”

The woman knocks on the hull of the ship and Nifty looks up.

“This guy says he’s got a problem with his engine. Why don’t see if you can help him figure out what’s wrong with it.”

Nifty looks down at me.

“Go ahead,” the woman says, picking the torch back up. “He can’t hear you, but he can read lips.”

“Well,” I say, turning my attention to Nifty, “it’s a PI ultra-compact. I’ve already checked the assimilator and the pump, and the couplings and lines all look okay.”

Nifty blinks at me.

“What else?” the woman asks without looking up from her work.

“Um, I’ve got a magnetic tether, but—”

The woman stops and exchanges looks with Nifty.

“You think it’s the tether?” she asks him. “Ah, I see,” she says. “I bet that’s it.” She nods and turns to me. “Nifty says your tether recoil is probably jammed,” she shouts down. Nifty hasn’t actually said anything as far as I can tell, but the woman seems to have no trouble understanding him.

“Does he know how to fix it?” I ask.

She exchanges another look with Nifty.

“He says just pull it out and rewind it.”

I nod. Seems simple enough. In fact, I feel kind of stupid for not thinking of it myself.

I stand there awkwardly for a moment, but ultimately decide it’s probably best to leave before I further outstay my welcome.

I raise a hand as I go to leave.

“Thanks for the help, Nifty and—”

“Hiro!” a voice calls from behind me. I turn to see a man striding toward us from the bay door.

“Shit,” the woman, who I can only assume is Hiro, mutters under her breath as she sets her torch down. “I’m gonna have to take this one,” she groans. “That’s my boss.” She gives me a pained smile and a quick wave, and I find myself now eager to make my exit in the other direction.

“You bring me anything good?” I hear the man call up to Hiro as I walk toward the southeast set of doors.

“You’re gonna have to see for yourself,” Hiro’s voice carries faintly across the open space. I turn around and take one last look at Romulus before I go.

There’s no doubt about it, that’s my ship, I smile to myself. It’s just not my ship yet.