This post was inspired by a writing prompt in the Worldbuilding Community - Worldbuilding Prompt #1138 - Irresponsible choices
Enjoy !
This post was inspired by a writing prompt in the Worldbuilding Community -
It is also the next part of a series which is developing into a full-length story. The working title I'm going with for now is "The Rim Awaken". Previous posts are PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8.
Enjoy !
Image created by AI in NightCafe Studio
The control panel sputtered to life, fizzed and went dark. Zrami had been working on it for two days straight, eighteen hour shifts. The warrior-caste trooper standing behind him tapped his shock wand in a gesture of menace, giving his tail an angry flick to reinforce the message. As if it needed reinforcing.
Zrami's retort was full of pent up anger. "Dammit, tell Hazar that this piece of Imperial junk is shot. The whole ship belongs in a scrapyard. If he wants shields that work, he'll have to send off to the Impies for spares, and good luck to him explaining how an Imperial battle cruiser ended up in Rim hands."
"That's General Hazar to you," the trooper growled. Ordinary low-ranking troopers weren't bred for their intellect or subtlety.
"Well tell General Hazar that this ship is a piece of broken down crap with tech that doesn't work anything like good solid Rim gear."
A low voice came from behind Zrami, with a hint of cruel amusement in it. Hazar.
"Well, well, little Zrami has finally met his match. I told you I wanted my ship up and running, ready to face whatever it is that's been circling at a distance and watching. Are you telling me you failed and have given up ?"
The last sentence had a dangerous tone to it, an implied threat of what might happen to someone who was no longer useful.
Zrami shook his head. "You don't get it. The ship is worn out, the scavengers we took it from could barely keep it limping through space. They couldn't repair it, that's why they had to board us. You've got every engineer and technician working to try to fix it up better, and we're barely scratching the surface. The tech is outside our training, we've got no spare parts, and we're exhausted."
Hazar scratched the sable fur on his chest, clearly thinking. He was an officer of the warrior caste, and unlike the troopers the officers weren't dumb brutes; they were selected for intelligence and adaptability.
His tone became more conciliatory. "So could you salvage spares from the city-ship and merge them with Imperial circuitry ? If you can give me shields and at least one fully functional primary turret, I'll give every technician two days off."
Now it was Zrami's turn to think. He knew that Mandrey-Home might have been derelict when they arrived with the hope of re-commissioning the city, but it was still packed with all the stores and spares a city needed. They had just run out of food, that had been what killed the place.
"Yes, I think that might just be possible. Glarbe and I will need to have a day to plan out how to do it and brief our people."
Then he decided to stick his neck out, hoping that the good news might have put Hazar in a better mood.
"But if you want me to do this, I want one more thing. I want to know what you have done with Archivist Naldre. I want to see her and know that she is safe."
Hazar laughed. Cruelly. "Oh, she is safe. For now. She is alive and being kept confined for her own safety. And to ensure the good behaviour of you and your engineers."
"I demand to see her !"
"All in good time, Zrami. Make my ship work and I might let you see her. Briefly. Cause me any problems or fail to fix this ship, and I'll declare her a security risk and make you watch as I cast her into space."
