The service tunnels were pitch black with the only way of telling direction being the outline of the stealthed ship. He headed in the opposite direction of the outline, trying to get back to the hangar and leave. The wound was on his nondominant arm, so he could still shoot the gun given to him if need be. Rather than getting in a fight, he hoped to just get out of these tunnels and leave.

As for the mechanic, the ship was running just fine without one so far. It just meant that he'd have to make do with just liquid foods until reaching another port or planet. That is, assuming that the quartermaster put the lead shielding and fissile materials in his ship. If that didn't happen and there was no mechanic, then he was stuck waiting in the stealthed ship until everyone died to the disease to loot a ghost port or trying to make enough vaccine for everyone then getting what he needed.

In the darkness, he tripped over something, a bundle of wiring. He didn't think nothing of it as this was the service tunnel used for repairs and things like wiring were often exposed for easy replacement or adding new things to them. Then he slipped after stepping on a piece of loose piping and grabbed a mass of wires to steady himself. He felt a slight shock but wasn't electrocuted.

He began walking by sliding his feet instead of lifting them and found way too many things just lying around. He kept brushing up against masses of way too many wires to be normal. There was no way that things would get this bad from people refusing to go down here for a week so that meant this mess was caused by someone. Likely the mechanic that Dr. Ripperov mentioned.

Part of him wanted to meet the mechanic to convince them to join him. However, he was also scared of them attacking him and began searching the walls for an exit. He did eventually find a latch door on the right side of the tunnel, but it refused to open. There was no way of knowing if it was broken, sealed shut, or if Brighand was opening it wrong in the low light. It wasn't that there was no light at all, but just the glow of electronics here and there.

"Who goes there," shouted a voice as flood lights turned on, blinding Brighand who had just gotten used to the darkness.

"I'm Captain Brighand, a scavenger. Just trying to leave," said Brighand.

"If you're trying to just leave then why are you down here in my territory? Give me one reason not to shoot," said the voice.

Brighand frowned as he realized that the voice was feminine. There weren't many females on the spaceport and the few there weren't scavengers. Obviously, she was a specialist, most likely the mechanic in the service tunnels he heard about. He squinted and held up his hand, trying to see where exactly they were and if there truly was a gun aimed at him.

"The Custodial Union demanded that I get a medical checkup and after I got there, they decided to start shooting the place up. I escaped into these tunnels and was trying to get to the cargo hangars to get to my ship," said Brighand.

"Two issues with what you said. One, even if you get to your ship where would you go? This entire station is going down from this virus and no one has the fuel capacity to reach anywhere. Two, how did you know the correct path to cargo? These service tunnels are a maze and I disabled the lighting so it's not like you could check the signs," said the mechanic.

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"I do have the fuel capacity to get out of here and I am not infected by the virus. As for how I got here, I just went in the general direction of cargo from what I remember walking in the halls and didn't encounter any usable exits or side paths," said Brighand.

As they continued to speak, Brighand's eyes adjusted and he could see her figure. A red light emanated from one of her eyes and her hair was frayed and stuck out crazily. A prosthetic eye either from an accident or a purposeful augment and she probably hadn't bathed in days.

"Hah, if there was a cure to this damn virus and a ship to get me out of here, I would have long gotten both. Everyone on this ship is blacklisted by the nearby planets. I saw it in the records. They know about the disease and want us all to die rather than make a cure. Years I spent here working for next to no pay in the hopes of earning a spot in a shipyard back home, gone. It's an entertaining lie, I'll give you that," said the mechanic.

"Well what if I had a way to get to planets even farther out than the nearest ones? As far out as the heartlands of the countries that fought the battle that we scavenge from. And what if I truly did have the cure, treated myself, and have three more to share with people I can trust and need the help of?" asked Brighand.

"Prove it," said the mechanic.

In response, Brighand slowly pulled the gun out and fumbled around looking for the setting to switch it to the syringe. He made sure not to point it at the mechanic. Even so, she ended up firing a warning shot towards him making him drop it in a panic. Once it hit the ground, it fired. Not an energy blast but a syringe. He had managed to switch the setting just barely befire she fired.

"Why'd you shoot at me? Now there's only 2 cures left," said Brighand as he looked down at the gun in despair.

Before he could even react, an elongated metal swooped in and brought the gun to the mechanic. She inspected it and pulled out a dozen tools trying to break it apart to see its insides. After failing to do so, she shot it off into the tunnels once before shooting it at herself.

"Now there's none left but I'm cured and that's all that matters. No wonder you have the cure, this is old military tech from the war. Which means this disease is a bioweapon. If you have a way to get off this giant prison quarantine and far away enough to be off the blacklists, then I'd hazard a guess that you've found yourself a functional warship like the one that brought us this disease," said the mechanic.

She turned off the floodlight and hit a switch on the wall that caused the entire service tunnels to glow in a much less harsh manner. He could finally see the mess all around him of broken gadgets and tools to the point he couldn't see the floor. And he finally got to see her.

She had long bedraggled hair tied out of her face by copper wiring, pale albino skin from being away from proper lighting. The lighting in the main halls of the space port and in spaceships would deliberately let out safe levels of UV light to help with vitamin D absorption and a skin tone that had a certain resistance to radioactive light rays. Half of the left side of her face was scars covered up by metal plating and a robotic eye that could move separately from the organic one.

Brighand found her features to be so shocking that he simply stared. The crazy eye and scars made it hard for him to see her as attractive. To snap him out of his stupor, she walked over and kicked him in the shin before tossing his gun up in the air in front of him. He cried out in pain and reflexively caught the gun to keep it from slamming on the ground and possibly discharging again. After all, once the setting was switched back, it was still an energy gun fully capable of blasting holes in people.

“Wake up. That’s a good gun there. Impossible to take apart with my tools. Either it needs specialized tools or it’s designed to break when stripped to prevent designs from leaking. Door to the cargo hangars is just ahead,” said the mechanic.

“Oh right, yeah let’s go. You are right about the ship. What’s your name? Mine is Brighand,” said Brighand.

“Just call me Hiwi. I’m not gonna use my real name anymore as that’s blacklisted. Neither should you. Come up with a nickname as you’re literally a criminal being forced to scavenge on top of being blacklisted as diseased. If you don’t, we’re likely to get quarantined at the next port we dock at even with a fancy military ship,” said Hiwi.