I’ve done everything I can do for now.
So why do I feel it’s not enough? China Doll was handling the hard burn as well as could be expected. After several hours spent watching her numbers and checking for any signs of her flying apart, Yuri felt the old listlessness fomenting inside him. The Mick had been perfect for his restless spirit; a ship of that size always had something broken, or on the verge. He could work himself to such exhaustion that even his inner disquiet couldn’t rouse him from his bunk.
But China Doll was considerably less than a handful. She didn’t possess nearly the challenge to still demons who now feasted upon the heavy ball of fear lying in his stomach. With hands aching for action, Yuri grabbed up a toolkit. Word had spread that the three Skye kids had vacated their shuttle. For an anxious mechanic looking to burn off nervous energy, now was as good a time as any for a systems and maintenance check.
As he stepped through the open hatchway, he was met with the surprise of their sole passenger, Edina Wyman, crawling about on all fours. “Hello?” he greeted the woman.
“Oh!” she gasped, turning to settle upon her knees. “You scared me!”
“I’m sorry,” the mechanic set his tools down. “Need some help?”
She looked around the space. “When I came to check on them for the captain, it was plain they’d left in a hurry. Just thought I’d clean up the mess,” Edina’s eyes turned away. “I can’t abide just sitting around fretting.”
Yuri nodded his understanding. “Kind of my thought, too,” he admitted as he observed the cabin. “I conjure Abby would’ve beaten us both to the job. All in all, it doesn’t look too bad.”
“It’s not,” she agreed. “Lots of wrappers and soda bottles. A few glasses to go back to the galley. I did find this,” she fished through a pocket, her hand emerging with a tiny piece of gleaming gold. Edina extended the little treasure toward Yuri. “It looks like…”
“...A microchip,” he observed. With great care, he plucked it from her open palm to study beneath an overhead light.
“What do you think it does?”
He shook his head. “Difficult to say, but the architecture is pretty sophisticated.” Yuri’s eyes lifted, casting about the shuttle and each of her systems in search of a logical answer. “I don’t think it belongs to any of the flight or atmospheric controls in here,” he ventured. From the toolkit he produced a small container. “I’ll show it to the Captain,” he promised. “Thanks for not just sweeping it out with the rest of the trash.”
“I’m all about a good mystery.” The smile she gave him really was quite a lovely respite from the day’s incessant brooding. “While we’re sleuthing, maybe you can help me with that?”
A bit of graffiti had been finger painted onto a bulkhead. He studied the smiley face. The substance from which it had been created had an oddly viscous texture, but the smell of it seemed vaguely familiar. “That’s not paint,” he offered. “Any ideas?”
“I think it’s tartar sauce,” she replied. “I found more on a plate with a half eaten fish stick. But those words,” Edina pointed toward the underlying message. “Do you know what they mean?”
“Pis-tool so-en,” he read aloud. “Pistool soen. No,” Yuri shook his head. “I knew they spoke some language, but beyond a nod and a wave I never really dealt with them.”
Edina was now on her feet, armed with a spray bottle and cleaning rag. “Guess we’ll chalk it up to another unsolved mystery,” she said as the bulkhead was scoured clean. “Will it bother you if I keep working?”
Yuri settled into the pilot’s seat. “Not at all. Seriously, I’m glad for the company.”
“Me too.” A companionable silence fell between them, punctuated by the flipping of switches and the rhythmic swishing of both broom and mop. At one point, Yuri lifted his feet to permit her access to the deck beneath him. There was a comfort to be had in simple work; knowing that her aims were in agreement with his own seemed a balm to the ache of worry that filled him with nervous energy. He concentrated on the shuttle.
I’ve done everything I can for now, his mind settled into its task.
Edina’s final chore was the cleaning of the pilot’s counters and console, a task which brought her directly into Yuri’s workflow. On any other day this might’ve proved a nuisance. Yet now, their closeness sparked a quiet sense of contentment for each, a bond of kinship through pain and concern for their missing shipmate. After wiping down the last dial, she paused to face him. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“When I said I had a gun,” she nearly whispered, “that’s true. I do have one…but I’ve never used it. Don’t really know the first thing about it.”
“Well you’re ahead of me,” he smiled. “I was going to see if the captain could lend me one.”
“So you know,” her eyes held his gaze, “how to use one?”
He nodded. “I’m no expert, but I’ve had to handle them from time to time.”
“Could you teach me? I don’t want to mess it up when we meet these bikers, or,” Edina’s eyes swept the deck, “Buddha forbid…”
“Shoot someone,” they both said in unison. “I know,” Yuri’s face was solemn. “I don’t want that, either. But yes,” he answered, “we can practice some basics. Loading, unloading, aiming, and safety. A refresher course wouldn’t hurt me at all, either.”
“And maybe target practice?”
“Not unless the boat’s got a practice emitter,” he said. “No shooting live rounds inside.”
Edina pondered that. “I know Abby and Hook did some shooting on Greenleaf. Maybe one of them has that thing you’re talking about?”
“Good thought. I’ll ask Hook and the captain. If you want to check Abby’s things…”
“I’ve got no clue what to look for,” she shook her head.
Yuri answered with a sheepish grin. “I really don’t think Abby would appreciate me rummaging through her underwear drawer. Let’s go together.”
The thought teased a wan smile from Edina. “Okay. One more mystery to solve.”
Zoie Hart,
wanderingwolf,
Bugman,
yobo,
SkyVerican,
Antlers,
Little Bill
