Page 15 of Experimental Voyage
I luxuriated in sleeping without being attached to some form of machine, but I woke with an itching head and lower back. I could only assume my tail grew where the spine met my ass, as Iwanted to scratch the whole thing off. Rather than scratch, I got up, got changed into yesterday’s clothes, and went on a search for someone who could show me how I was supposed to get clean.
Like it or not, I would tolerate the itch for as long as possible.
I found one of the younger Veloc on the voyage, Gersenalt, engaged in a rather heated argument with a piece of equipment in the hallway. Parts littered the floor, grease caked the Veloc’s feathers, and I wondered how much work he’d have ahead of him. “Are you okay?”
According to the Veloc’s explosive snort, nothing was okay, nor would it be okay again. “It fights me.”
That much I could tell without needing a manual to understand what any of the parts did. “Is there anything I can do to help? I can provide hands, but I know nothing about these machines.”
“Hands are useful. Yes, you can help.” Gersenalt pointed at a rather greasy tube made of metal. “Once I have this seal back into place, I will need you to put that over the seal while I hold everything in place.”
I grabbed the tube in question, examining both ends. “The side with or without the screw threads?”
“With. You will screw the tube into place over the seal. I will handle tightening it once it’s in place.” With his crest plastered to his skull, the Veloc resumed working, and after a few minutes, he grunted, adjusted the contraption he worked on, and pointed his nose at a round section with threads matching what was in my hand. “Screw that into place, please.”
“Here?” I asked, putting the end I’d selected as the probable one into place before regarding the Veloc.
He cooed and nodded.
The tube put up a fight, but between my determination and his general strength holding the other piece in place, I got it on,triple checking to make certain I’d threaded the screws properly. “Like this?”
Gersenalt turned the device on his lap, took hold of the tube, and finished screwing it into place. “You did quite well. Almost tight enough to hold. That will improve as you go through physical therapy.”
Like some sorcerer in his element, Gersenalt reassembled the machine. I watched with wide eyes, marveling he understood what bits went where. Once finished, he spent an unholy amount of time checking over his work. Once satisfied, he got up, lugged the machine down the hall, and opened a panel, revealing a mess of tubes, metal bits, and chaos.
It took him ten minutes to return the machine to its proper spot, after which he reattached the tubes and all the other bits. Once done, he pressed a flashing red button in the control panel.
The device whirred to life, and he cocked his head to listen to the sound. He then pressed a nearby button and said, “Please test the auxiliary oxygen generator.”
“Roger,” Waldren replied, his voice coming from a small box. “There are no initial warnings on the system.”
My eyes widened further. “That thingy makes oxygen for the ship?”
Gersenalt hooted his amusement, and his crest lifted. He gestured to the center of the whirring machine. “There are several shiftgem crystals in there, which produce oxygen and water for the ship. This is the backup system, and it threw a warning shortly after departure from Schawna Major. Cousin Waldren worries, and as he’s worked recovery on numerous derelicts, he has four backup systems capable of oxygenating the ship. We usually do maintenance on all systems every three months, but we got the call to come assist you right before our maintenance cycle. We’ve been doing the work as maintenanceflags appear, but let’s just say my featherless kin has been stressing himself over the state of his beautiful wife.”
“You call the ship his wife?”
The Veloc showed me his sharp, pointy teeth. “She is as expensive as any wife.”
“More expensive,” the surly man muttered. “The comm is open, you feathered freak.”
“Quite on purpose, I assure you. Your beautiful wife will be well. Our guest helped me reassemble the system, as she came out of her quarters to explore several hours ahead of our estimated schedule.”
Well, as I had already defied their estimations, I decided a little whining was in order. “I itch, and rather than scratch, I got out of bed.”
“Ah, yes. Herserael wanted to see how you were progressing. Not as well as we would like, apparently. I will take her to the medical bay so the itching can be addressed along with cleanup. I took the liberty of greasing everything.”
“You greased it?” Waldren asked.
“It was already apart, so why not grease it?” Gersenalt regarded his greasy feathers and heaved a sigh. “My feathers are doomed.”
“Your feathers will be fine. The system is checking out so far. I’ll comm you if any of the tests reveal any issues.”
“There are no other systems that need to be worked on, right?” the Veloc asked, his tone so wary I fought the urge to giggle.
“The system is clean of flags. I am not responsible if a new flag shows up, but this time, I am not tricking you into cleaning up only to have to get greasy again.”
The giggle I’d been fighting back slipped out. “What did he do to you to deserve that?”
