Kilews !!hot!! -

“We need credits,” Voss cut her off. “Get it done.”

“Stow the chatter, Kilews,” Voss had grumbled that morning, slapping a data-slate onto her workbench. “We’ve got a priority run. Gilded trinkets to Velorum Prime. High pay. Low questions.” kilews

That night, while the ship coasted toward the orbital insertion point, she heard it. A soft, rhythmic tap-tap-tap from Cargo Hold 2. Like a finger on glass. Or a beak. “We need credits,” Voss cut her off

They dropped out of warp into the Velorum system, and the trinkets weren't trinkets. Kilews saw the crates being loaded: not the usual coded polycarbon, but reinforced steel, humming with a cold she felt through her boots. She asked the loadmaster what was inside. He just winked and tapped his nose. Gilded trinkets to Velorum Prime

Her hands were always stained. Not with glory, but with engine oil from the old Kessler-9 drive that wheezed and coughed like a dying man. Captain Voss said the ship had a soul. Kilews said the ship had a leaking primary coolant seal, and if Voss didn’t sign off on the repair order, that soul was going to become a permanent, frozen ghost.

Kilews sat in the dark of the engine room, surrounded by the ghosts trapped in silver cages. She could fix a coolant leak. She could patch a hull breach. But she had no idea how to repair a broken soul.