LF Friends, Will Travel

Collateral damage - Part 8

Michael was a Ritilian, a bipedal Lizard-like species standing around 4ft tall and covered with a pattern of green and blue iridescent scales. The third to hatch from a bundle of five, the name was chosen because his mother liked the sound of the Terran word. Michael. Exotic and exciting, the syllables whispered the chaos and insanity of the Terrans themselves. It meant "Leader of angels", a religious entity that seeked out evil and destroyed it where it was found.

Which was all rather ironic and lost on Michael, since the name did not match his personality. No, the Ritilian liked order, liked building things and putting them together. Contrary to his chaotic Terran name, he went into the ordered studies of Maths, Science and then eventually Engineering.

He was smart. Not a genius: he wasn't good enough to get a place on a Scythen research vessel, god knows Michael had tried. But he was reliable, decent, and hard working. Someone you could have a good intelligent conversation with, but wasn't going to revolutionise every field of study he touched.

Michael worked on the "Curious Hatchling", a research vessel focused mainly on the study of black holes. His job was to make sure that all the "move the ship forwards" parts carried on doing that, and didn't turn into "explode the ship into a fine mist" parts. He was good at it, quietly decent at his job, enjoying his time he spent year after year with the rest of the crew.

Sometimes he did wish there was a bit more excitement though. Sure, he'd carved out his own piece of the galaxy, had a mate back at home and was overall a happy person. But the days turned to weeks turned to months, and compared to the exciting stories he read as a child of the galactic community, it was all a bit... mundane.

Somewhere a god called Murphy laughed its evil laugh.

Today was a standard day, it was maintenance day. It was always maintenance day. Very rarely on a spaceship did big interesting things happen, instead lots of small boring things needed to be done, which if not done in a timely manner turned into big scary dangerous things. Today was lubricants, opening up various pieces of machinery and making sure the various fluids and oils that ensured the piece of metal didn't grind to a halt or burst into flames were all topped up.

It was boring, monotonous work, as Michael couldn't help but let his mind wander as he lay there, crouched in a awkward position on the bridge of the ship; slowly dismantling and then checking the machine in front of him. This current trip would be over in a few weeks, then he'd get to see Ravoon.

The one negative of travelling the stars was being away from her for so long. He'd have to look into getting a more stable job, one that didn't end with him flying across the galaxy. Wasn't as exciting, but then again his scales weren't as soft as they used to be, everyone eventually needed to settle down.

The power plant was always hiring, wasn't it?

"What in the five streams is a Raha ship doing out here?"

Michael was ripped out of his thoughts of future futures as the captain spoke. He couldn't really see him, stuck with his head under a mass of hydraulics and machinery, but he could still hear the sound of the kindly figure.

"I'm not sure sir, they seem to be dead in the water though. Leaking Warp plasma all over the place. It's a miracle they haven't already exploded."

The second voice was the head of navigation and communications. Michael never really interacted much with her, but still could recognize her voice.

"Any response to our hail?"

"None, but communications are all scrambled due to a local solar storm, flares are messing with anything stronger than a flashlight. Probably what caused their trouble."