A Fixer Upper

Though he had read manual after manual on how to fix a ship, Daven had never once actually touched any other ship than this one. His family was never given the opportunity to obtain enough money to buy one (just like most in the Underground) and his parents weren't around long enough to take him to a museum or a show. All he ever had were books. And now, here he was with his very own ship, trying his best to go through his memory banks about how to fix each part of a ship, and actually apply it. He found that even though he had read up on this very same ship, the way each mandatory maintenance of this old beast from bleeding the hydro line to checking the battery was fairly different. Perhaps it was his memory that was off, but he was more sure that it was the manuals themselves, all written by someone who didn't even speak his language that were being rudimentarily translated to English. It also didn't help that several pieces of the ship had been also replaced over time, to keep the thing from truly falling into disarray.

Even with all of this trouble, though, Daven managed to perform routine maintenance so that his ship didn't fall out of the sky mid-use, put in his new monitor, and the autopilot cord. Now, all he had to do was replace the broken hyperflux driveshaft.

He had saved this for last as he felt unsure if he could do it correctly and knew that if he messed it up, it would mean that the whole ship wouldn't function. This step was vital for his way out, yet he couldn't bring himself to do it until last. He didn't, couldn't, stay in the Underground any longer. He had to leave, but this was his only way out. No one was allowed to leave without a ship, it was law. As the only way out other than by paying a ludicrous toll, was to be on business such as trading.

He began this risky endeavor by taking a grinder from his bag that he had stolen from a man and getting under the ship. It helped that this ship came with chrome stilts as he didn't require any jacks like some models, which also made it easier for him to put the grinder on one side of the old driveshaft that wasn't already broken. He supposed that whenever this thing had been flying who knows how long ago, this was what killed it. He ground the section off and just barely managed to roll out of the way as the metal piece smashed onto the ground - apparently the cords that kept it up there had also come undone.

He pushed the old driveshaft away and grabbed the new one off the ground beside him. He carefully grabbed the metal cord that was supposed to attach to the driveshaft and tried to connect it to the middle top section where it was meant to go. It didn't connect to the piece and upon closer inspection, Daven realized why.

“Hey, um Xanthar, can you hand me a 3/8 inch nut and wrench,” there was the sound of rustling through his bag of parts. He felt so awkward talking to her, he didn't even know why he let her come in the first place and the entire time sense the basement she hadn't spoken once.

He held out his hand, waiting, when he felt two cold pieces of metal touch his palm. He gripped them and took the nut from his hand, trying to attach it to the cord. It didn't attach. “This one seems too small, is there anything bigger?”

There was more rustling. “How...” Her deep voice seemed to crack with emotion just barely held at bay.

“Yes?” He asked.

“How do you know my race? We aren't exactly popular,” This time her voice seemed more steady.

He sighed. “I don't know.”

And it was true, he had no clue how he knew. The scene of the ship exploding and his tanned golden brown skin repeated in his mind. What had it all meant? Was someone hacking into his brain, supplanting memories into him? He didn't want to even think about if that was true, he didn't want to think about anything other than this ship.

Another cold piece of metal was in his hand. He tried it. It worked. He now lifted the driveshaft and twisted the cord onto it by hand. Once it was too hard to do it by hand, he used the wrench until he couldn't twist that anymore either. Looking at it, it seemed off. He was missing something. It hit him, that cord was a tube that put hyperspace hydraulic fluid into the shaft but without something more substantial to suck the cord down, it'd break off when flying fast.

“Do you see something in that bag that's cylindrical and slightly clear?”

Once more, the bag began to rustle. “Vamil.”

“What?”

“That's my name,” the piece was placed in Daven's hand. “My name is Vamil.”

“That's an interesting name. Does it mean anything?” The piece was easily stuck into a hole right next to the cord and bent at an acute angle toward the cord, pointing toward a small connection piece which he stuck the other side into, creating a triangular shape. That piece would create a strong suction between the hyperspace cord and the driveshaft, tightening the two down so much the cord nut will oftentimes meld into the driveshaft if the engine runs long enough. He realized she hadn't spoken and wondered if he should say anything. “I don't know if I told you already, but my name is Daven. It came from my grandpa's name, who was named Dave. For some reason, my mom wanted to put an 'n' at the end. Why? She thought it made me sound more eloquent,” she still didn't say anything. “I wish my mom was still around, so I could tell her it just made my name sound weird. I'm sure she'd find that a good laugh.”

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She didn't say anything still so he decided he should go back on task. Now, all he had to do was weld the wo driveshaft axel bars onto the driveshaft himself.

He had no idea how to weld and knew it would most likely not be that great, but he just hoped that the rest of what he had done would be good enough. He just needed it to hold on long enough for him to get enough money for a real mechanic. Which he most definitely was not.

“Can you hand me the welding tool and the blackout goggles?”

She did so. He put the goggles on and began welding the first end. He took the goggles off and looked at his work. Like he had thought, it wasn't that good; however, he did a better job than he thought he'd do. Now just for the other side.

“My name comes from our Goddess Vamil Denaldria. She is the Goddess of night, the one who cools us from the day and brings us peace for our dreams,” Vamil said softly. “I was named that because I was born at night and I didn't come out crying like many babies, but fast asleep. My mother thought it was because Vamil blessed me. I think it was because I felt at peace with my mother. But now she's gone...everyone is gone.”

“Well, I guess no matter where we come from, hardship is everywhere,” He began welding the other side. Once again, it was better than he thought it'd be. He crawled from under the ship and looked at it once more. It was finished, now all he had to do was turn it on.

He opened the red cabin door and the chrome stairs automatically folded out from where the door hid them, hitting the ground softly. He and Vamil went up into the cabin. The room was very small, fit with a single couch and an uncovered toilet.

He went to the cockpit and leaned over the chair, not wanting to get in just in case the whole thing caught fire or something. He hadn't turned it on before, and it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that something like that could happen.

He hit the ignition button. The engine in the back made a loud, groaning noise and he heard fluids rush all around him. His heart skipped a beat, this couldn't have been a good sign. But then, he heard the engine fire up and the monitor came on.

It read: Ready for take off.

“Yes!” He exclaimed, shooting his hand into the air. He had done it. He had fucking done it! This was his chance to finally get out of this godforsaken place and out into the fresh, open land above. He let out the biggest sigh of relief and closed his eyes. He felt the whole ship shake ever so slightly as the engine churned.

I'm going to make the past proud.

What did that mean?

Something began to beep loudly and his eyes shot open. The screen was displaying a top-down image of his ship. The back was glowing yellow and it read: Warning - do not attempt a hyper jump.

Yup, his welds definitely were not up to snuff. But that was okay, he wasn't going to do that anyways. “Vamil, we're ready for lift-off,” He said, his smile wider than he thought possible. He turned to see Vamil, she didn't have a smile, instead, tears streamed down her face, her lip quivering.

He put a hand on her elbow, his face falling. “What's wrong?”

“I'm- I'm sorry,” Her voice broke into sobs, and in between she sucked for air. “I- I- I killed-”

“Stop, it's okay,” He took her by the arm and directed her to the couch. They both sat down, she put her face into her hands, sobbing hard. He put a hand on her back, not wanting to disturb her, he knew what this was about.

“It's okay,” he said softly, “You didn't have any choice. If you hadn't stepped in they would've killed me.”

She shook her head, fighting through the tears she said, “If I wasn't there they wouldn't have tried to kill you in the first place.”

“But you were there. We both were. You didn't have a choice of being there, they took you and put you in that cage. It's not like you decided to go be their blood sack or whatever the hell they were doing.”

She continued to sob and he let her. They sat like that for a long time, her sobs slowly becoming quieter until, at last, they stopped. She put herself in a fetal position, putting her head on the couch's edge. Daven assumed she didn't want to be bothered and got up from the couch. “Thank you, for saving me,” He said, looking up at the ceiling as if he could see the ship exploding in the air. As if he could see the blue woman trying to help him up. He thought that they had a striking resemblance to the one now on the couch, they could've been sisters. Or it could've been her mother.

He shuddered. “I'm going to pilot us out of here, lay there for as long as you need.”

She nodded softly. He wanted to say she was overreacting, wanted to believe what he had told her. And he did, he knew that it was all in self-defense. But even so, two people were dead, innocent or not. He couldn't even fathom killing another person, sure, he had been in fights but had never actually taken another's life.

Yet, he knew he would achieve his goals. He would do anything. He gave an exhausted sigh, he needed a shower, no, a good long bath. But he didn't get that luxury, he didn't have it on the ship for damn sure he couldn't afford it. They had to get out of here. He and his new crewmate, Vamil.

He went to the cockpit and sat in the single red and white leather seat. He hit the button that looked like a stilt and felt the hover engines come on, the electromagnetic pulse pushing them into the air about a foot as the sound of the legs going into the ship sounded. He lifted the stick and the ship slowly rose up and up and up. It went up to the roof and he saw a small button on the windshield visor. He pushed it and the roof began to move outward, revealing the ceiling of the Underground. He went up and out, and flew through the dark, damp, cavernous city toward freedom.