Rig Runner

"Thanks...for catching me back there. I thought I was done for." Nazka sounded hesitant, as if thanking him for saving her life was some admission of failure on her part.

"I've seen enough people spaced recently, we can get back to fighting when we've resolved the reactor situation. Right now we need to work together, or we're both fucked."

"Pragmatic, but perhaps ill-advised."

They marched onwards, Nazka paying careful attention to where she was putting her boots, and they eventually reached the far side of the scaffold. It felt good to have a hull under their feet again, even if the difference was largely superficial. Their brains informed them that their footing was more secure and they welcomed the relief.

The reactors were immediately visible, their rounded domes protruding from the hull at regular intervals, five massive radiators that glowed molten red extending from them to vent the waste heat safely into space. The sixth had melted into slag, unable to cope with the energy that its reactor was putting out, further adding to the cascading series of failures that were contributing to its imminent meltdown.

They made their way towards the rear of the aft section, Eriksen instructing Nazka to stay put while he walked around the side of the vessel to check on the damage from the blast that had torn a hole in the hull. There was a jagged tear in the metal, two engines missing and one irreparably damaged at least, five still functional. Ice crystals trailed behind the ship as what little remained of the atmosphere in the engine compartment continued to vent, leaving a glistening trail behind the vessel, the first indication of motion that he had seen so far.

"Engines are looking pretty good all things considered," he reported. "The freighter should be able to change course or decelerate reliably, that is if we can eject the reactor core before it goes critical and melts through the engine compartment like it's made of wax."

"Well we're here," Nazka replied, "so where do we start?"

"See these domes? Those are the tops of the six nuclear reactors. The domes open up on mechanical arms to allow maintenance access to the cores, which are clusters of plutonium rods suspended in fluid. What we want to do is initiate an emergency core ejection which is going to blow the lid and dump the contents of the reactor into space, assuming it hasn't fused to the surrounding metal by now. It requires several steps. We have to disengage the mechanical arm, enter in an override code, and then blow the access hatch. The core is going to come out like a bullet along with all the water inside the reactor and most of the internal components, so make damn sure that you're clear before the ejection happens."

"Very well," Nazka replied, "just tell me what you need me to do."

Her whole demeanor was different out here, she was usually so dominant and commanding, but now she was ready to take orders and seemed to have temporarily abandoned her illusions of Alpha-hood. Maybe it was fear, or maybe it was common sense. He knew what to do, and she didn't, so it was logical for her to accept his instruction.

"Well, I wasn't expecting you to have to do much of anything. This operation can be performed by one crew member, but two heads are better than one if shit goes south in a hurry. Looking at the state of that radiator, however, the reactor may be in worse shape than I thought. For that to have melted, the core must be putting out an enormous quantity of heat. If it's slagged any of the internal components and fused them to the inside of the reactor, then this ejection could get pretty destructive. I'm not entirely sure what will happen."

"Then let's just get it over with," Nazka said, making her way slowly towards the dome with the ruined radiator. "The longer we wait, the worse it's going to get."

Eriksen walked around the circumference of the dome, moving towards the mechanical arm on the far side. The massive piece of industrial machinery looked like something one might find in a manufacturing plant or on the back of an earth-mover. The jointed arm was bolted to the hull at one end, and the dome on the other. There was a small control panel embedded in the side of its housing that would give the operator control over it. Rather than using it to raise the hatch and expose the inner workings of the reactor, Eriksen needed to detach it, and so he keyed in a code and started moving sliders on the touchscreen.

The arm shuddered, the motors encountering resistance, and a warning flashed on the screen.

"Fuck," he muttered.

"What's wrong?" Nazka asked, sidling up beside him and peering over his shoulder.

"I don't know, something is blocking the arm. I keyed in the command to separate it from the dome, but it just shook like something was stopping it."

"That might have something to do with it," she said, gesturing towards the dome. Eriksen followed her finger and saw what the problem was. The connector on the far end of the arm had melted to the dome. It couldn't disconnect, it had been welded to the metal.

"Well shit," he exclaimed, "what the fuck do we do now?"

Nazka edged closer to the dome and Eriksen waved for her to stop.

"Hold up Nazka, the surface must be hot enough to melt anything that comes into contact with it. The radiator is shot, so all of that ambient heat is going straight into the dome. If you touch it, the heat could transfer into your suit and cook you alive."

She paused, turning to examine the arm, the pistons and blocky housing painted in yellow warning colors.

"What if we disconnected the arm from the hull, instead of from the dome?"

"I don't have the tools required to remove the bolts and disconnect it from the ship's power grid," Eriksen replied. "Besides, it isn't designed to disconnect that way. If we blow the hatch with the arm still attached to it who knows what direction it will fly off in."

"That's a risk we'll have to take," Nazka stated, moving closer to the arm. "We don't have time to go back and fetch the tools, and we can't just do nothing."

"What are you planning to do? Nazka?"

She ducked under the mechanical arm, bracing it against her shoulders like a power-lifter about to squat an enormous barbell. She took a moment to position herself, her back straight, knees bent as he heard her take a few deep breaths through her suit radio.

She heaved upwards, digging her feet into the hull of the ship and using her entire body to strain against the arm, her limbs shaking as she fought to tear it from its root. He heard her snarl as she exerted herself and he imagined the sounds of creaking metal that were inaudible in the vacuum of space, watching in awe as one of the bolts that anchored the arm to the hull popped free. It floated off lazily, its neighbor following suit, two of the eight visible bolts now dislodged. He stepped back, afraid of being clocked by flying debris. Nazka grunted like a beast as she gripped one of the pistons for leverage, one of the metal panels that made up the hull buckling under her boot.

Two more of the bolts popped loose. Holy shit, she was actually doing it. He had heard stories about Borealans being able to flip cars and tear through armor like it was cardboard, but this was the first time that he had seen one in action. The arm finally gave, the remaining bolts tearing out of the hull as the industrial device floated free, rotating limply at the elbow joint. It didn't get far, as it was still attached to the dome at one end. There was a bundle of fiber-optic cables and wires still tethering it to the hole where it had been attached to the ship.

Nazka took a few steps back, breathing hard into her microphone.

"God damn Nazka, nice work. Take a break and catch your breath, okay? You don't want to overexert yourself out here."

She nodded, there was no way to really sit in zero-G, and so she just let herself float as her magnetic boots kept her secured to the freighter. Eriksen hurried around to the other side of the dome where there was another touch panel recessed in the hull, which should allow him to initiate the core ejection process. Technically the arm was still attached to the ship, but those cables should tear away with the force of the ejection. There was no time to find a more elegant solution, and so they would have to just accept the risks. He tapped in his override code furiously, unbeknownst to Nazka it was the very same code that he had used to seal the cockpit door, and a warning popped up asking him for confirmation.

He hesitated, his gloved finger hovering over the button. Once he pressed it, the short countdown would initiate, but he had no clue as to what would happen when it timed out. There were so many variables. The arm was welded to the dome, and all of the reactor's components might have melted together, what damage the device had taken to result in its current emergency state and what effect that might have on the ejection was also unknown.

Fuck it, they just didn't have time for doubts. He pressed the button and hoped for the best.

"Retreat to a safe distance," he ordered, and Nazka's floating figure seemed to come back to life as she turned and followed him back to the scaffold. "I actually have no idea what the safe distance is," he admitted, stepping onto one of the narrow bars that made up the freighter's midsection. "Just keep going and don't stop."

That seemed to light a fire under her, and she hurried along behind him, growing more accustomed to the strange gait that she had to adopt in order to keep one boot securely on the hull at all times. He couldn't fault her for her mistakes, she had never done a spacewalk before and most rookies practiced under controlled conditions. He had fallen off the hull many a time before getting the hang of EVA, but instructors wearing jetpacks had been there to catch him and return him to safety.

The countdown had given them one minute, and as they hurried away from the aft section, they felt a tremor rock the freighter beneath their feet. Had there been a medium for it to travel through, the sound would have been deafening, and they turned to watch the spectacle.

The dome, along with the arm that had been welded to it, was gone. It was just gone. It had shot off with such speed that it wasn't even visible anymore, in a direction that fortunately had not resulted in further damage to the ship. There was a cloud of water and coolant, now transformed into a spreading field of glistening ice particles, accelerating rapidly upwards in relation to the pair as they craned their necks to get a better look. There were glowing orange blobs amongst the twinkling crystals, slagged metal that cooled rapidly, droplets like molten rain and larger clumps of it climbing towards the stars as their momentum carried them. The core was leading the pack, a cluster of what had been rods of uranium fuel, now little more than a smoldering mass of radioactive lava as it tumbled into space.

"Well that's the end of that," Eriksen announced, "hopefully it won't make like that grain of sand and hit some poor fucker in the face."

"I can't believe that worked," Nazka sighed, sounding relieved. "I thought we were screwed for certain."

"We did it," he added, with an emphasis on the we. "You see what happens when we stop trying to one-up each other and just work together? Mutual benefit, Nazka, cooperation."

"Yeah yeah, don't spoil the moment by turning it into a damned lecture. Let's get our asses back to the hangar so that I can get out of this suit."

CHAPTER 8: TRUCE

Nazka emerged from her shuttle, trotting down the landing ramp with her leather clothes draped over her arm, clad only in her panties and a tank top. Her dark skin was shining with sweat. Moving around in those suits wasn't as easy as it looked, and in space, it was surprisingly easy to overexert yourself without really being aware of it. Eriksen waited for her at the bottom of the ramp, wearing his yellow pressure suit, the hood removed and hanging down his back.

"Think I pulled some muscles," she said, rolling her arm and wincing.

"Well, you did tear a piece of industrial machinery apart with your bare hands."

"You know, another shower would be nice. Will you join me if I declare a temporary truce and promise not to overstep your human boundaries?"

Eriksen considered for a moment, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Yeah, alright. I figure you've earned a favor. You did help to save the ship," after first endangering it, he thought to himself. "You did pretty well on your first EVA, all things considered. I'll put my human fingers to work and see if I can't ease some of that muscle pain."

She had deferred to him while they were out on the hull, and now she was asking permission rather than simply twisting his arm until he did what she wanted. Had she come to some realization out there? Borealan social dynamics were strange, at once highly evolved yet primitive, efficient but stifling. She exerted complete control over her pack members, but they couldn't take initiative. Had she finally seen the practical benefits of working together as equals?

He followed her through the hangar and into the hab module. They entered the bathroom, Nazka discarding her clothes on a nearby rack. She slipped out of her underwear, Eriksen trying to keep his eyes off her enticing body as he unzipped his suit, stripping down to his shorts before joining her. She turned on the shower and fiddled with the temperature dial, steam beginning to fill the room as Eriksen stepped into the cubicle with her. She really liked the water scalding hot.

"What's with the shorts?" she asked, closing her eyes as she let the water run over her face. "I've seen you nude before, you have nothing to hide."

"Humans don't generally get naked around their acquaintances, even two friends of the same gender aren't commonly comfortable with that."

"I've already seen your junk, what does it matter?"

"It matters because I feel more comfortable this way. Now do you want a massage or not?"

She relented and sat heavily on the tiles, Eriksen upending a bottle of shower gel onto her shoulders, feeling her shiver appreciatively as he spread the liquid across her smooth skin.

"My left shoulder...down a little...yeah right there. That feels good..."

He sank his fingers into her soft flesh, feeling the muscle below the surface, firm and rubbery. Nazka slowly became more relaxed as he kneaded, her taut body deflating like a balloon. Perhaps when he got back to civilization, he'd learn how to give a real massage. If his future partners responded half as well as this alien did, then he'd be in business.

He moved down her arm, feeling the bulge of her bicep, stopping short of her furry forearm and then moving back up to her shoulder. He ran his fingers down her spine and dug deep wherever he thought she might have strained herself lifting the mechanical arm, easing the ache in her muscles, Nazka swaying drunkenly and crooning as he went. He almost seemed to be putting her in a trance, like rubbing a crocodile's belly to placate it.

Things felt somehow different now, more calm, as if all of the tension had been drained from the atmosphere. Could he dare to hope that Nazka might have changed her attitude towards him after their EVA on the hull? He had saved her life after all. Although considering how many times he had tried to kill her up to now, his balance was still in the red.

"So...what happens now?" Eriksen asked, slipping his hands beneath Nazka's damp hair to rub her neck.

"It's as you said, I can't go home empty-handed."

"I thought maybe you'd have come around after what happened out on the hull."

"I guess I understand you a little better maybe, but that doesn't change the facts. You saved me, I saved the ship. We're even as far as I'm concerned, and I still need to get paid."

"Nazka...you know how this is going to end as well as I do. One of us is going to be forced to kill the other, but that's not the way that things have to go. You can still stop this, it doesn't have to come to that if you'd just be reasonable. You can write this one off as a loss and just leave, I'll even resupply you with food and oxygen if you need it. We'll go our separate ways, and nobody else will have to get hurt."

"You have your ways, I have mine. I can't can't return home without enough loot to cover the costs of the venture, and you can't dock at your destination with no cargo. Only one of us is going to come out of this situation on top, and I intend for that person to be me." He felt her tail coil around his waist, her damp fur tickling his skin. "You can stop this too. Join my crew and come live with me, before your stubbornness gets you killed."

"I can't do that," he sighed, pulling her sinuous tail away. "I guess we'll have to let fate decide which of us lives and which of us dies, then. You're a grade-A bitch, but I don't want to kill you Nazka, I never wanted to kill anybody. I'm a fucking freighter pilot, I'm not some gung-ho Marine dropping in behind enemy lines. I don't know how I'm going to feel when I have time to think it all through. I can't afford to see a shrink on my salary."

"Well, you were defending yourself," she said. "We put ourselves in danger when we attack freighters, the risk comes with the job, though you took me by surprise. I've gotten into a few firefights and chases before, I've lost a few crew members, but I've never had my whole crew spaced at once. You've got a warrior's heart, Eriksen."

"Why do you do this? Piracy, I mean. Why take such extreme risks when there are a hundred other jobs that you could be doing that won't get you, or anyone else killed?"

"Because I'm a Borealan," she replied firmly, as if that should answer his question.

"So? There are Borealans all over the place. They're not all pirates, and they can't possibly all be soldiers, you must have farmers and engineers. You could be a doctor or a pilot, you could open a store and sell your ridiculous jackets, you could go back to the UNN and finish your integration training."

"No, you don't understand," she said with a hint of frustration in her tone. "I'm a Borealan. I have this fire in my belly, I need to fight like I need to eat and sleep. So many of us deny our true nature, they let themselves be seduced by promises of prosperity and cooperation, they become clawless. Aliens come to our homeland and tell us that if we just stop doing all of the things that make us who we are, if we stop being Borealans, then we'll go far. We'll have technology and riches, a respected position in the Galactic community, but they strip us of our identity."

It was an oddly heartfelt outburst, and Eriksen stopped his massage, keeping quiet for fear of interrupting her as she continued.

"When I was training with the UNN in their integration program, they tried to reprogram me. They wanted to break down my personality and my behavior in order to rebuild it in a way that suited their needs, as if my whole being was just some condemned building that needed to be demolished so that they could build a safer property on the foundations. Humans want to wield our strength like a weapon, but they don't understand that the strength they see is a product of our culture and our society. If they make us live and behave as they do, adopt their values and culture, then in a few generations we'll lose what makes us Borealans and that strength along with it."

Her tail began to flick back and forth, knocking against Eriksen's knees as he knelt behind her, but it seemed to be some reflex that she wasn't consciously aware of. Some sign of frustration or anger perhaps, an involuntary emotional display akin to blushing or weeping.

"It's the same on the homeworld. Elysia is scrambling to modernize," she said disdainfully. "They send all of their soldiers off to the UNN for training and their Patriarch is obsessed with ships and machines. It's like he can't wait to sell his people out for power, yet any fool can see that his power is a farce. The humans wouldn't make him so strong that he could challenge them, they see us as primitives, kittens distracted by shiny objects while the adults tend to business. He's a big fish in a small pond, but the Coalition is an ocean full of sharks. He'll never be independent, and they'll never let him out from under their thumb."