The ship’s landing gear groaned as it took the weight of the G-1200 Trellaris freighter, dubbed the Rust Burn. The vessel was a cargo hauler, built for durability, speed, and room. It had a bottle-shaped design, with the engines partially extended from the sides and the afterburner nestled at the back.
The middle of the vessel was thick, housing various subsystems and internal compartments, making it appear bulkier than the rest of the ship. The cockpit sat at the front of the ship, extending slightly forward from the main body and featuring a wide viewport. The ship’s weapons, located on the nose of the craft and on the dorsal and ventral sides, make it a tough ship to handle.
It was a sturdy ship, housing a small crew of six to take on several cargo runs from Mission City and other outposts of trade and commerce. Their latest brought them to a world of oceans and islands, particularly to a flotilla of boats sailing across the seas, serving as a floating city of 18 ships of varying sizes, from fishing boats to dreadnaught class. The Rust Burner settled on one of the larger ships that served as the central docking vessel, where off-planet ships arrived and departed
As the loading ramp lowered, Kazia and Rosli descended with a repulsor lift in tow, dressed in orange uniform jumpsuits, to transport several containers marked with logistical information for scanning. Kazia had more than recovered enough to start work, given that she now had identification and a means to gain credits and a history; her own history.
“So, where do I go?” She asked, stepping onto the ship’s landing pad, her boots making a clanking sound that creaked as if the surface would collapse under her weight from a lack of structural integrity or proper welding. She immediately felt the not-so-steady swaying of the platform, which made her question her ability to walk for a moment before she balanced herself.
“Just ask these workers here if they know,” Rosli’s voice processor expressed slight amusement at having to train the newcomer in how cargo is delivered.
She made a gesture toward the nearby technicians who were approaching. Her own footing adjusted more quickly, making the synthetic woman appear more competent in her steps. As a Nexori, Rosli has servos that easily compensate for the constant imbalance.
She was thin, with simple curves in her form, no visor like her brother, which revealed a set of neon-pink optics held in sharp angles. Rosli wore a simple grey coat, while the rest of her pale green body appeared garbed in a tight-fitted black bodysuit and a pair of running red shoes.
Rosli started to head out, expecting Kazia to follow with the cargo loader, a 48x40 platform with built-in repulsor lifts that kept it two feet off the ground. It carried several items at once, heavy and fragile. One was an aquarium used to keep live fish as pets; a household item.
She looked back at the ship before following Rosli, realizing Lucian stood at the top of the cargo bay. She wanted him to come with her, to help her. It was an odd feeling leaving him behind, albeit temporarily.
With each step, Kazia felt a tug to go back. She turned back again, and Lucian gave her a thumbs-up. Her pace continued for a while across the open deck of the ship before she turned again. Lucian kept her eyes on her for a bit longer, watching even while they met with the flotilla crew.
The workers, two Gelthorians who approached at a run, their eyes fixed on Kazia. The two Gelthorians standing at Kazia’s 7-foot length, one magenta-hued with a masculine figure with a head of imitation hair swept upwards in short waves, and a yellow colored one with a more androgynous body shape and hair that draped to their shoulders. Both of them wore specialized white bodysuits that fit their malleable forms: the magenta with a one-piece suit and the yellow with a two-piece version sporting a halter top and knee-length shorts, both wearing a pair of fitted shoes made to grip the decks to help against the constant rocking.
“Um, hello, you. . .mechanics.” Kazia greeted with a steady nod, but her words came out choppy and unsure of how to address them. “We are here to give you your inventory.” She held out her hand, pointing to the series of metal crates and containers, before picking up a data pad she tried and failed not to fumble with.
She finished reading off from the list, giving the technicians her attention and awaiting their confirmation with eager anticipation. There was a silence when the two didn’t respond, but merely stared at Kazia with their beady black eyes, wonderstruck at her presence. It was a look that managed to be displayed despite their lightly detailed faces. Kazia’s own face took on a steadying look of anxiety that began to overwhelm her, pushing her to turn to Rosli, her eyes screaming silently for help.
“Excuse me, we are here to deliver the requested items for the Sea Spray Fleet.” Rosli took a step forward, grabbing the mechanic’s attention and the data pad. “I believe you have four stabilizers, a civilian-grade sensor emitter, twenty-seven pulse batteries, and a 37x26 aquatic tank with synth-steel glass.”
The Magenta Gelthorian looked to Rosli, back at Kazia’s nerve-wracking smile, then to the lift of supplies. It played out the exchange back in reverse, his eyes meeting with Rosli’s.
“Why, yes! Yes. Forgive me.”
He spoke through a vocal processor, a semicircular device that fit around his neck. It easily translated the faint vibrations emanating from his body into Galactic Common, with a 2-second delay in translation and relaying. He glanced at Kazia once more before gesturing for them to the nearby platform.
“You’re not so social.” Rosli brought this up as a fact, stating it.
Kazia kept quiet for a moment while processing the embarrassment she felt and how it weighed on her. They moved between ships using short-range industrial lifts to reach a boat. Stepping onto the platform, Kazia turned one more time, seeing enough of Lucian as he started to discuss something with Gosha.
Rosli followed Kazia’s gaze, her mind processing the possibilities of her coming assumption.
“It’s best to focus on the task at hand.” She pointed out, her professionalism staying rigid, yet she kept herself open. “You’ll see him later this evening.”
Kazia turned to her companion, her face taken aback at being found out. She didn’t respond, but took the concern in stride.
Their delivery continued, and the women were given directions to their next few stops for delivery. The first brought them to the main residential ship, where homes were built on top of each other, like a makeshift hillside of shacks. It was a maze to navigate, but Kazia brought the tank to be delivered first to lessen the risk of breaking the package in the engineering section.
Kazia and Rosli then traveled down to the engineering section, which was also a maze. They neared a boiler room, bringing the less synthetic ones to sweat easily. Kazia dropped a battery on delivery, but no damage impeded their progress. When moving to another engineering section, where it was less hostile to organics, they were able to drop the stabilizers from the list. They returned to the open deck and made the final drop-off of the sensor packs.
A tap on the data pad confirmed the shipments were brought to each respective destination. An officer of the Flotilla’s staff signed off on delivery, and the credits were wired through to the Rust Burn’s account.
“A pleasure for the Rust Carriers doing business with you.” Rosli gave a quick curtsy and made her way out of the commander's tower on the central ship.
Kazia followed her out in silence. Her pace quickened, to Rosli’s realization, who kept her steps steady.
“You’ve been becoming more agitated the longer we stay out.”
Kazia didn’t respond, as she pushed the repulsor life onward.
“What is it about your Terran that has you in such a hurry?”
Rosli managed to catch up and stop near Kazia. She turned to face the synthetic woman, her expression uncertain, with the question and with her own actions. A silence stood between them, leaving only the distant exchange of people nearby, the internal machinery of the ships, and the waves crashing against the boats.
“My Terran?” She repeated this with a blank expression.
“Yes,” Rosli stated matter-of-factly. “You’ve stared back at him multiple times. Mishandling equipment during a rush to complete our work. And attempting to leave your chaperone in a bid to reach the ship.”
Another silence filled their space.
“Do you have a purpose?” She asked, her question sharp as steel. “Or are you like a servant eager to return to their master?”
