Mack stood in the repair bay, staring at what used to be his ship. Whole chunks were missing. Chunks that, an hour ago, he would have sworn were very important parts of a working spaceship.
“Whaddya think?” asked Nero. The squat mechanic peered at him through a layer of grease. Their dozen thin eyestalks swayed from side to side, blinking rapidly. Each one swiveled independently, nervously scanning the workspace, the ship, and Mack himself.
“I … what … how …” Mack stopped and cleared his throat. “Where did it all go?”
“Storage,” said Nero.
“But … why?”
“You gave challenging constraints,” said the Verax mechanic. “Quite a puzzle to solve. But we managed.”
Mack ran a hand across the stubble adorning the top of his head. “I gave you a budget and told you what repairs needed to happen. How does tearing my ship apart enter that equation? Does it even still fly?”
“Indeed it does.” Eyestalks bobbed asynchronously, giving the eerie effect of wind blowing through grass. “We argue better than before. Less extraneous weight. Fewer things to break. All in all, a net positive.”
“What if I get shot at?”
“Less to hit. All in strange positions, too. Will confuse opponents. Again, net positive.”
Mack’s hand drifted to the flask at his belt. He longed to drain it, in a vain attempt to alleviate the stress raising his heart rate and blood pressure. But no, he was working, and procedures must be followed, lest the world descend into anarchy. Even if this situation was well out of the ordinary.
“What, exactly, did you do?” demanded Mack. “And how did this,” he gestured at his ship, “result from my simple requests?”
“Budget too low,” said Nero. “Compromises required. Starboard cabin cause of faulty wiring. Easier to remove than fix. Scrap materials obtained extended budget. Allowed for armour plating where cabin used to be. Missile launchers also defective. Had to remove, so took out access hatch and magazine, too. Remaining missiles added to budget. Knew weapons important, could not remove without replacements. Found laser gun and installed instead. Takes up less space, cheaper to run, does as much damage.”
“Why did you think it was okay to remove weapons and living quarters without consulting me?” Mack could feel the vein at his temple throbbing. His hand drifted to the gun on his hip. “As captain, it’s my call to make such impactful decisions!”
Nero looked unphased. “No time. Captain off drinking. Waste of time to look for him. Budget already too slim. Better to do work and allow Captain to vent. Working ship better than no ship.”
The problem was, Mack knew the Verax was right. By the time they started work he had been comatose in some whore’s bed. Even he wasn’t sure which bars he visited in the past twenty cycles. And time was tight. If he didn’t depart within two cycles he wouldn’t be able to make the transit to Pisces. Missing that run would bankrupt him. He would lose the ship anyway, and then his life would be over.
“Fine,” muttered Mack. He jammed his hands into his pockets. “How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing. Missing parts cover extra costs.” Nero stretched out a spindly arm. “Deposit too high. Here is refund.”
Mack snatched the credit chip and stuffed it into a pocket. “Thanks for nothing,” he snarled. Leaving the mechanic behind he stalked towards his ship. He hoped it was safe enough to fly.