There were two Philomenas in the galaxy.
One was a cool beauty. A proud businesswoman who always stood tall. Back arched, head held high, eyes keenly observing the market and its people. A terrifying force of nature who took what she wanted, like a bird of prey scooping mice off the ground. The kind of woman who'd corner you, slam her hand into the wall, and kabedon the hell out of you. Lean in so close that every lusty breath passing through her moist pink lips blew you away like dust. Your pathetic body would squirm in her talons, nerve fibers begging for those sharp claws to dig in deep, scratch away at you …
Unfortunately, that Philomena only existed inside Luci's head.
She knew — she knew — the real one was short-sighted, short-tempered, and short on business skills. She knew that.
And yet … whenever Philomena got that starry sparkle in her eye, whenever she refused to give in to common sense, whenever she got swept up in her dreams of galactic conquest … Luci's heart melted. Vivid fantasies burst into her mind. Fantasies of the imaginary cool beauty-Philomena shoving her against the wall, stroking her chin, and purring in her ear.
"I've got you now, my little kitten."
Luci doubted that would ever happen, yet she couldn't resist hoping for it anyway. She liked to think she was pretty smart. She was a starship engineer, after all. But whenever she was around her boss, it was like a fog went through her brain and halved her IQ. She got sucked into the gravity well of Philomena's massive confidence like a tiny satellite, forced to orbit around it no matter what. Endlessly spinning in circles, dancing to the music of her spheres, hoping she could one day touch her celestial body. Philomena's optimism flared as bright as a sun and powered the solar panels of Luci's happiness.
Philomena rubbed off on Luci, but not the way Luci would've liked.
Oh, I have it bad, she thought.
Normally, Luci wouldn't have it any other way. But crawling through the vents hunting for her missing keystick had left her fatigued and a little pessimistic about the state of things.
She trudged into the warehouse. The tools stuffed into her toolbelt clinked and clattered with every step she took. Her cargo pants and T-shirt clung to her damp skin, and wet locks of hair slithered across her scalp. A sigh puffed out of her mouth every five feet.
The warehouse's shelves were empty, except for cardboard boxes full of printed paperwork. None of them knew why the old owners had made a hard copy of everything. Sure, technology on the frontier was often unreliable. Yet this seemed excessive, to the level of paranoia. Rsh guessed SwiftShip were afraid of being hacked. A computer could analyze massive amounts of data for patterns in a split-second, but only if the data was digitized. If it sat on a shelf, in boxes, a computer couldn't do a thing. The business might've even been involved with some shady stuff. But they had no real answers.
Maybe one day I'll get so bored that I'll go through the paperwork looking for a clue …
… but not today.
She reached the cluster of pipes, dropped to her knees, and pulled her heavy-duty work gloves on.
There's no way I can clean the whole office in fifteen minutes, but … I am just a tiny little satellite in orbit around a glorious, shining planet. So, here I go—!
She plucked a metal scraper out of her toolbelt, angled it toward the gunk crusted on the nearest pipe, and got to work.
I hope I get a kabedon for this, she thought. I can dream, right?
As the brittle gunk slowly crumbled under her assault, her thoughts wandered.
I'm a starship engineer, not a janitor.
Scrape, scrape, scrape.
But am I really a starship engineer? I only know how to fix engines because of the family business. It's not something I chose for myself.
Scrape, scrape, scrape.
I'm a woman who likes woman, but does that make me a 'lesbian'? I don't go to lesbian bars or keep up with stuff online … Is there some kind of lesbian culture you need to be part of first?
Scrape, scrape, scrape.
I've spent the past few years working in deep space with my family, trading scrap. Haven't seen my homeworld in a long time.
Scrape, scrape, scrape.
Sometimes it feels like I exist in a vacuum.
Scrape, scrape, scrape.
The vacuum of space, I guess.
Scrape, scrape, scrape.
Who am I, really?
Scrape, scrape, scrape.
I wonder what life would be like if I decided not to go into the family business. Would I still be all butch? Or would I put on pretty dresses and make-up and flirt with cool beauties so I could let one take over my life?
Scrape, scrape, scrape.
Ah, well.
Too late now. Fixing engines is what I'm good at, and there's no way you can play dress-up in an engine room.
Scrape, scrape, scrape.
Oh, I think it's coming off now.
The clumped grime started to crack and splinter. She leaned forward and put her whole body into chipping away at it.
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Come on, almost … got it …!
She dropped the scraper and grabbed the grime clump with her gloved hands. She heaved once, twice—
There!
Whoa!
The thick wad of gunk broke free so suddenly she shot backwards. As her ass struck the floor, she grimaced. She waited for her bones to stop rattling, then shook her head to clear her senses.
She held up the clump of grime …
Huh? Why's it hollow in the middle?
She looked at the cluster of pipes again. The section she had been scraping away at … A chunk was missing. Liquids and pressurized gases flowed out of the broken ends. Then she took another look at the clump of congealed grime in her hands and realized … It was the pipes. Or a section of them. The gunk had been the only thing keeping them together.
With a terrible metallic groan from above, the severed cluster of pipes started to tilt. As their own weight dragged them down, they also pulled apart overhead where they went through the beams on the ceiling.
Maldita sea! Luci thought.
She kicked herself backward in the nick of time.
The pipes twisted apart and broke free, banged against the beams on the ceiling, and twirled as they fell to the hard floor. The gas pipes rang out with ear-splitting, tinny bangs that made Luci wince. The liquid pipes sprayed their contents all over the warehouse's corner. Liquid continued to gush and gas continued to hiss from all of the broken pipes over her head.
Oh, this is bad!
A pungent-smelling pool spread over the floor toward her boots.
She kicked herself up off the ground and jumped to her feet. Her toolbelt jangled sharply and slapped her thighs. The corner of the warehouse was rapidly being coated in unknown liquids.
I'm a starship engineer, she thought. I can fix a few busted pipes.
Luci hustled over to the intrapanel while she yanked her gloves off and stuffed them back into her toolbelt. Her finger flew across the touchscreen as it bypassed the main icons and scrolled through the complete list of available actions.
"Shutoff," she mumbled. "Shutoff. Aha!"
She hit the button. A loading icon swirled on the touchscreen …
And it swirled …
… and swirled …
A vivid red message box popped up.
> ERROR 27B-6: COULD NOT ACCESS SHUTOFF VALVE
>
> PLEASE CONTACT STATION MAINTENANCE
"Ahh!" Luci yelled. "Piece of crap!"
I can fix this, she thought. I just need to do it manually. The shutoff valve is … in the closet, I think?
She left the warehouse, peeked around to make sure Philomena was not there, and then hurried into the utility closet across the hallway.
Maldita sea!
Of course, the valves just had to be near the ceiling.
This is short people discrimination! she fumed.
She climbed up a rickety metal shelf to give herself a boost, threw her arm out, and reached for the pipes at the top of the wall. Their valves were just out of reach, but if she stretched her arm until her shoulder was about to dislocate, her fingers could just … about …
Got it!
Luci yanked the valve handles one at a time, cutting off the flow of liquid and gas, then hopped off the shelf. She hit the ground with a rough thud that rattled her clenched teeth.
Once she was back in the warehouse, she glanced up at the pipes on the ceiling. The flow had been cut off, but the liquid still inside them continued to drizzle out and splash on the ground, adding to the pool spreading across the filthy floor.
How am I going to clean this up …? she thought, chewing her lip.
One side of the little lake hit the wall, rolled down it, and flowed past some insulated electrical pipes.
I hope this unit's crappy wiring doesn't—
The pool of flammable liquid instantly caught fire. As flames spread over its shimmering surface, a wave of heat seared her eyeballs and blasted her face. She jumped back and threw her arms up. The room had gone from dingy gray to bright orange with a frightening speed. Her hands shook, desperate to do something, yet clueless as to what.
The roaring flames licked the cardboard boxes on the shelves, found them tasty, and greedily ate them up. Blackened by fire, they broke down and spilled burning paper everywhere. It fluttered into the air and rained down like balls of fire shooting out of a volcano.
Smoke billowed up to the ceiling, but nothing happened when it hit the nozzles of the fire suppression system.
Maldita sea! This … piece of crap unit! Hasn't anybody done any maintenance down here?!
She spun in a circle, searching for something to fight the fire with. But the mounting brackets on the walls were empty. There wasn't one single fire extinguisher in sight. Sweat poured down her face, and she found it very hard to think straight. The fire cast a hellish, flickering glow on the far wall, with only a pathetically-tiny Luci-shaped shadow blocking its way.
Philomena is going to be so mad!
She pelted through the door and down the hallway, but the mounting brackets were empty out there too.
No, I swear there's one left! Where did I see it?!
The hazy memory hovered in her mind, teasing her and then flitting out of reach when she tried to grab hold of it.
It wasn't that long ago …
Ah, that's it! I saw it when I was crawling through the vents!
Luci moved through the complex and stuck her head into the rooms one-by-one.
There it is!
Inside Philomena's bedroom, the only fire extinguisher in the whole office sat on the dusty, disused desk. She dove across the room, hauled it off the desktop, and carried it back outside. The allure of the purple bra and panties sitting on the laundry pile tempted her like a siren's song, but she bravely sacrificed her curiosity for the greater good.
She hauled the extinguisher to the warehouse. It swung wildly and banged into her legs, but she couldn't worry about the pain now.
I have to fix this mess before Philomena finds out!
As she burst into the warehouse, she braced herself for the raging heat. A fresh layer of sweat poured across her face and under her clothes, making them damp, itchy, and uncomfortable.
Get over it! she thought. Put the fire out!
She grabbed the extinguisher's hose, raised it, and squeezed the handle …
The nozzle sputtered, wet and weak. A few bits of foam sprayed out and limply sagged to the floor. It sounded exactly like it was giving Luci a raspberry, and did about as much to fight the fire.
Her jaw fell open.
MALDITA SEA!