Page 52 of Solar Bound
"Three hundred and seventy years?" Dani's eyes widened. "And how old are you?"
"Seventy-eight Earth years."
She stared at him, clearly recalculating her understanding of their relationship. "So you're basically in your twenties by our standards?"
"The comparison is approximate but acceptable," Solar confirmed.
Dani laughed softly, shaking her head. "Of course you are. I finally meet a guy who isn't emotionally stunted, and he turns out to be an alien barely out of adolescence with a three-century lifespan."
Solar wasn't entirely certain how to interpret this statement. "Does my relative youth concern you? I assure you, I am an honored warrior."
"No," she said, her smile softening as she reached for his hand. "It's just a lot to process. Everything is. Being in space. Leaving Earth. You."
Her touch created the now-familiar resonance in his energy field, a harmonization that felt both welcome and increasingly necessary. Solar found himself intensifying the connection, allowing more of his natural luminescence to flow through the contact point between them.
The ship lurched suddenly, the artificial gravity fluctuating. Solar instinctively steadied Dani, his arm circling her waist as the deck briefly tilted beneath them.
"That's the third time today," Dani observed once the system stabilized. "Is this hunk of junk going to hold together?"
"Unlikely without significant intervention," Solar admitted. "I have identified seventeen critical systems requiring immediate attention. The propulsion stabilizers are particularly concerning."
"Show me," Dani said with surprising determination. "If we're stuck here, I might as well make myself useful."
Solar led her from the viewport room, navigating through the ship's confusing layout. Galaxy Brides' vessel was a patchwork of technologies joined with minimal regard for compatibility or safety protocols. Corridors ended abruptly in sealed bulkheads, panels labeled in a dozen different languages covered walls, and exposed wiring hung from ceilings like tropical vines.
"This is worse than I thought," Dani commented as they passed a section where the floor grating had been removed, revealing a tangle of pulsing tubes beneath. "How does this thing even fly?"
"That remains unclear," Solar replied honestly. "The propulsion system appears to incorporate at least three fundamentally incompatible power sources. I think it’s gotten worse since we arrived on Earth. Alternatively, I suspect that Eclipse kept the ship in repair and did not inform us of the issue during the trip here. I am beginning to suspect I have not given Eclipse enough credit for his quiet temperament and peacekeeper role."
They reached a chamber that could be called the engine room, though it more closely resembled the aftermath of an explosion in a technology recycling facility. Equipment salvaged from various spacecraft had been bolted, welded, and in some cases simply tied together with metallic cording.
"This cannot be safe," Dani whispered, staring at a glowing cylindrical object suspended in what appeared to be a modified food preservation unit.
"It’s not," Solar confirmed, moving to a control panel that displayed a constantly shifting array of warning indicators. "The primary power core is operating at one hundred and thirty-seven percent of its designed capacity. The thermal regulation system compensates by venting excess energy into the ship's water reclamation system."
"Which explains why the shower was steaming without being turned on," Dani realized. "So we're basically riding in a flying bomb?"
"The probability of catastrophic failure is significant but not immediate," Solar assured her, though his own assessment was less optimistic than his words suggested. He had been monitoring the deteriorating systems since their departure, and the degradation was accelerating.
Dani approached the makeshift control panel, studying the unfamiliar displays with obvious curiosity. "Can you keep teaching me how to help? I'm good with my hands, and I learn fast."
Solar considered her offer. The task of stabilizing the ship's systems was daunting, especially given the unplanned nature of the technology. Yet having observed Dani's precision with fire manipulation and her adaptability in crisis situations, he found himself nodding.
"Your assistance would be valuable," he acknowledged. "Though the work will be challenging and potentially dangerous."
"More dangerous than doing nothing?" Dani asked with a raised eyebrow.
Solar felt his energy pulse with something that might have been amusement. "Your point is valid."
Over the next several hours, Solar guided Dani through the basics of the ship's systems, teaching her to identify critical components and assess their functionality. Though the technology was alien to her, she demonstrated a remarkable ability to grasp underlying principles and apply them to unfamiliar contexts.
"So this converts the energy from the main drive into something the life support can use?" she asked, carefully reconnecting a series of color-coded conduits.
"Correct," Solar confirmed, impressed by her intuition. "The conversion matrix is essentially a universal adapter for incompatible power systems."
"Like trying to charge an iPhone with an Android cable," Dani muttered. "Except if you get it wrong, we all die."
Her ability to translate complex concepts into Earth analogies was both efficient and oddly endearing. Solar found himself increasingly drawn to the way her mind processed, practical yet creative, analytical yet intuitive.
