Hull Scrappers Volume 2: Liminal Marches by Andrew Seiple

Author:Andrew Seiple [Seiple, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-09-23T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12: REVELATIONS

Kril knew it had gone sour the second he woke up.

There weren’t any rats on him. They were all on Lysanda, who was slumped over in their chair, with a solid, furry carpet of sad little rodents looking up at them with concern.

This was the first time in a while he hadn’t woken up with a rat cozy and warm on or next to him, and he knew at a glance it was ’cause their master needed them.

But it was more than that. He knew the ship, knew the noises of crew and proper workings and the million and one little ways that things shifted when they were moving, or busy, or repairing. And right now, he wasn’t hearing any of them.

They were at a dead stop. And the only reason for that, was that they didn’t know what to do next. The ship didn’t have a purpose, and that meant that the plan had not only gone south but had maybe ended up somewhere around the equator and had forgotten to pack sunscreen.

Kril inhaled and gathered his thoughts. Remembered what he could.

Then, he gathered his nerve, sat up just a little, and looked down at his left arm.

It ended right where the pressure seal had shorn it off. That seal had saved his life, at the cost of a maiming injury. Someone, likely Lysanda, had gone and capped the end of it with a fleshcoat bandage, a little wrap of skin and blood vessels and gel that had been infused with his own cells, fastgrown in the medical fabber to prevent it from going bad and poisoning his system.

Weren’t the first time he’d had one of these symbiotes attached to him, but it was the first time he’d needed it for anything this big.

“Ah. Welcome back, dear man,” Lysanda said, their voice dull and worn. The doctor cleared their throat. “Sorry. Are you hungry? Thirsty? The nutrient drip took care of necessities, but you’re the best judge of your own comfort levels.”

Kril tried to say yeah, I could use a drink, but his throat felt like he’d been eating thornthistles, and it ended up being a coughing fit instead, and oh wow, didn’t that make his arm ache and twinge. He ended up lying back, keeping his stump up so it didn’t bang against the bunk, and riding it out.

“Water, then,” Lysanda said, putting a cup under the general fabber and filling it up before helping him drink.

The door cycled, and Kril glanced to the shiny mirror hanging from the ceiling, saw Ferny, her green hair pinned up, and her gills flat against her neck. She waved his direction, then sank into one of the open chairs.

Kril finished the water, cleared his throat a few times, hawked and spat into the basin next to the bunk, then turned to consider his crew. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere in the dark, mostly coreward from Baudelaire,” Ferny said. “No stars around. There’s a few rocks out here, not much else.”

“Ain’t good if we’re being followed.

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