“Corpos don’t like CDPs. They don’t want anyone punching a meal ticket for free. Byzon only knows why it bothers them so much when the starving are fed.”

—Singa DCDP (Department of Centers for Displaced People) Councilwoman Gheri Reza

Three empty plates were beside Zaina by the time she leaned back and patted her belly. Over the course of her eating, she’d explained her journey thus far and where she was going; this time, Sister Tyza took it more seriously.

“So,” she said, “you really are going to Kaado.”

Zaina nodded and picked at a bit of sliced fruit on her fourth plate. “Yep. That’s what I think I should do. I never really knew what I was going to do until it fell into my lap.”

Sister Tyza chuckled. “Life happens like that sometimes. What about your ship, though? Is it flyable?”

Zaina cringed. “The pirates did a number on it. And it’s not my ship, it was my friend’s.”

“You need a mechanic. Don’t worry, I know a guy. He does Pira Byza work for us sometimes.”

“Pira what now?”

“It means, ‘For Byzon,’ in Eclestic—the language his scripture was written in. He’s helped us out before. But before we do any of that, I think a few hours of sleep would do you well,” Sister Tyza said.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Zaina said with a smile.

-

After a nice, long nap and a second shower for the hell of it, Zaina put on a matching gray blouse and slacks from the nightstand. Then she went to find Sister Tyza.

Zaina stepped into the common room and immediately laid eyes on her benefactor. Sister Tyza sat at a fold-out table across from a grizzled, elderly Takagaran—a tall one, too, standing three feet high. Unkempt gray-and-white facial hair covered every inch of his face, and his four arms were crossed. He wore a leather jacket with sewn-on patches of fiery skulls.

Sister Tyza brightened up. “Looks who’s finally awake. Feeling better yet? You’re looking a lot better.”

“Thank you,” Zaina replied.

Before she could say anything else, Sister Tyza turned to her companion. “This is that girl I found. Said some pirates did a number on her ship.”

The Takagaran turned to face Zaina and grunted.

Sister Tyza waved to Zaina. “Come on over and introduce yourself! This is the guy I was telling you about. Galactic-class mechanic. He’s been there and done that.”

Zaina walked over and sat next to Sister Tyza. She extended a hand and said, “My name’s Zaina Quin. It’s so good to meet you.”

One of his arms pulled some hair out of his eyes to give her a proper look-over. A second hand, tiny in comparison to Zaina’s, reached out and grabbed a few fingers with an iron grasp. “Hobst Ralfert.”

Zaina glanced over at Sister Tyza, who tilted her head toward the elderly mechanic. She wasn’t going to ask this for Zaina.

“And you said you fix ships for free?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Depends on the damage.”

Zaina nodded. Not one for words, this guy. “Well—is there any way you could help me out? I’m in a pretty bad jam.”

“Maybe.”

Not quite sure how to respond, Zaina grimaced and held her tongue.

Hobst turned to Sister Tyza. “Good seeing you. You take care, now.”

She smiled. “You too. Don’t be a stranger. And remember, we’re here if you need anything.”

With that, the Takagaran hopped out of his chair and made for the exit. He turned to Zaina and said, “Coming with?”

She leaped out of her chair to follow him. “I’ll see you later, Sister Tyza!”

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Once Zaina caught up with him, he stopped and asked, “Got your lot key?”

Her heart stopped. “My what now?”

“Lot key. Tells you where your ship is in the lot.”

“Um—no, I don’t—nobody told me I was supposed to—”

He scratched his head. “How long ago did you land?”

“Maybe, like, two days? I don’t know.”

“Hm. Well, they won’t have scrapped it yet, then. Probably. All right, come on.”

Without another word, Hobst exited the building. Parked outside was a three-wheeled electro-bike with a high-walled hover-wagon hitched to the back. The mechanic climbed into the seat of his bike—the four smaller handlebars were clearly custom-fit—and started it up. There was no side-seat so Zaina climbed in the wagon.

The electro-bike zoomed away, pressing Zaina against her compartment’s rear wall. Hobst went much faster than Sister Tyza. The neon-covered buildings flew by at alarming speed. Whenever the bike turned it did so sharply, making her careen into the side walls.

The speed did have benefits—they arrived at the shipyard quickly. From the outside, its raised walls made it look like a fortress. The gates, of which there were twelve, were fifty feet tall and narrow, with steel bars extending into the walls to prevent unauthorized entry. Built over them was a glass-enclosed walkway connecting two large buildings to either side of the gate complex. Hobst waved at one of the guards standing by a barred gate. The guard waved back and pushed a button on her vis-screen, retracting the metal bars.

Thankfully, Hobst went considerably slower inside. The sprawling maze of ships opened up before Zaina—they were all shapes and sizes and in various states of glory or disrepair. Endless rows and columns of transports were spread out over an area that seemed to stretch on forever.

Half the planet must just be this shipyard.

A moment of panic struck her. What if she lost Gir’s ship? And with Gizmo inside, the last things Gir left behind would be gone. Her heart twisted at the thought.

After everything he did for me... No. I’m finding his ship.

Hobst veered the electro-bike off to the side and pulled to a stop in the shade of a sixty-foot tall cruiser—it had to be at least as big as the pirate ship that attacked her. Zaina, curious as to why, made him speak first by offering silence.

He turned and said, “What’s the model number?”

“The what?”

“The model number. Of the ship. That way I can check the records and get a possible location.”

“Um—I don’t know it. It’s actually my friend’s ship, but they died on Demelia, so I—I don’t know anything about the ship.”

Hobst grunted and scratched his head. “So. It’s gonna be a shitshow looking for it manually. But so it is. You remember about what terminal you landed in?”

She shook her head. “I know the ships weren’t this big.”

“You know the occupancy?”

“It had seating for a few people, but it wasn’t a big ship. I—I don’t know the exact number.”

He nodded. “All right. We’ll check the personal transport rows first and go up in size from there. Hope you didn’t have plans today.”

She raised her hands. “Nope. I’m free, however long it takes.”

With a grunt, they were on their way.

-

The waning hours of sunset were winding down by the time they came across Gir’s ship. Hobst’s body language—shaking head, three arms crossed and one scratching his head—made it clear that this wasn’t an easy-fix type of situation.

Zaina stood at the edge of the landing platform. A nearby generator provided a steady supply of green light—otherwise, she surmised this was the darkest place on Otmonzas. There weren’t many bright neon advertisements, and the dense gray fog clouded any lights from buildings outside the shipyard. She fidgeted with her hands, unsure of what to do and dreading that the ship was beyond repair.

He put on a pair of vis-glasses, which sparked to life with a blue glow. Then he set about examining the ship, climbing about to get a better look at every minute detail. After about an hour of exhaustive analysis and tinkering, Hobst climbed down and walked over to Zaina. She clasped her hands together, preparing to get turned away.

“So,” he said. “Good news, bad news. Which you want first?”

Her heart skipped a beat—maybe it wasn’t as bad as she thought. “The good news!”

“Well, it won’t take long to fix,” he said. “As chance has it I have the right parts, and my crew and I can get this sort of work done in three or four s-days.”

“Really?” she said. “That’s great!”

He nodded. “Thank your stars they used siphon missiles. Not designed to damage the interior engine works, only drain its output. Means they probably were gonna sell you and the ship on the black market.”

She figured as much. “Okay, so—what’s the bad news?”

“The bad news,” he said, “is that the parts you need are expensive. Some of the most expensive I’ve got. Now, I don’t mind helping out however I can on simple stuff, but something like this is much more intensive. My whole crew for a few days, putting my most expensive parts into it—I can’t justify doing that for free.”

Her shoulders slumped over. There it was. “So—what do I do?”

His head teetered. “Well,” he replied, “as luck would have it, I’m short-staffed around the shop right now. Could use an extra hand or two. So, I’ll make you a deal: you come work for me. Sister Tyza’s got your food and board covered, so you can put however much of what you earn toward what you owe. If you want to save some for wherever you’re going, that’s up to you. I probably won’t ask that you pay the full amount for the parts, but we’ll find a number to agree on.”

Zaina frowned. “I’m sorry, but—I don’t know anything about working on ships. I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”

He shook his head. “I’ve already got a crew. No, I need help with other stuff—dealing with customers, daily cleaning, that sort of thing.”

She thought about it—while it wasn’t ideal, it was better than waiting around for nothing. If she worked hard and made herself extra useful, maybe he’d even let her go early. Plus, she wasn’t exactly drowning in options at the moment.

She reached out to shake his hand. “You’ve got a deal.”

He accepted it with a grunt and then turned back to the electro-bike. “Let’s get you back to the good sister, now.”

Zaina lingered for a moment, turning back to Gir’s ship. She hadn’t known Gir for very long, but somehow she still missed him. The lancer had helped her when she needed it most—that was the kind of person she wanted to be.

I’ll be on my way soon. Whatever it takes.