Page 25 of Adrift!
“No one is touching the capacitorus,” Nehivar snapped. “Not until—”
The sharp chime of an alarm from every crew datpad in the room drowned him out, followed by a calm, automated voice: “Atmospheric processing variance detected in botanical module. Chief Engineer to atmo-hall immediately.”
Nehivar’s whiskers flattened as he consulted his wrist datpad. “The garden’s filtration is jammed. Normally we could operate without it until we got back to port, but…” He slashed one claw toward the containment unit where only a few facets still pulsed. “With that thing sucking all our power, the problem could cascade into the main atmospheric processors.”
“How long before it becomes critical?” Mr. Evens asked, his earlier enthusiasm dimming like the resonark; discovering the atomic element of love wasn’t much good if they weren’t breathing, Ikaryo thought savagely.
“Unknown,” the captain said. “Suvan?”
“If a blockage goes system-wide, we’d have maybe a few days if we conserved air.” The chief engineer stepped back, and only his pale eyes gleamed through the gloom. “It needs to be cleared. But even at decreased levels, the anomaly’s aperiodic functions will destabilize the capacitorus if someone isn’t here to adjust manually. I…can’t leave.”
Something passed between the captain and chief, then Nehivar nodded once. “Griiek to atmo-hall,” he barked into his comm. “We need to find the block.”
“Already on my way, Captain.” The deck tech’s chirping voice couldn’t entirely mask the strain. “I know I have four, but I’m going to need more hands.”
“You’ll have them.” Nehivar glanced around the room. “The rest of you crew, with me. Mind comms. We willnotbe alarming the passengers.”
As they rushed out, Ikaryo matched his pace to Nehivar. “Captain, I may have relevant experience.”
“Bartending?” Nehivar’s golden eye narrowed. “Ah, filtration, of course.”
“Also distillation, sanitation, and atmospherics mixing.” Ikaryo lifted the elbow of his alloy arm. “And a certain amount of brute strength.”
Without breaking stride, the captain clamped an approving paw on his shoulder, flexing just enough that Ikaryo felt the pressure of claw points. “Definitely counts as anextraextra hand.”
Despite the surge of satisfaction at the acknowledgement, to Ikaryo the ship’s familiar corridors felt different now, faintly menacing. Was that a subtle staleness that hadn’t been there before?
But when he took another nervously questing breath, his disquiet eased even before his augments could identify why.
Remy was beside him.
She must have felt his attention because she glared sidelong. “Don’t you dare tell me I can’t come along just because I can’t sing.”
So much for being soothed. He wanted to stop, to confront the misunderstanding immediately, but he knew he needed time to talk out the heart of her pain.
Time they might not have.
“Your voice has power, Remy. You know I felt it when you sang. And if there’s air enough to breathe after this, I’ll tell you what else I feel.”
But her green eyes stayed little more than furious slits—as if she’d never reflected the longing glow of the resonark.
Or his own lonely cyber lights.
The lock into the atmo-hall was wide open, but none of the delicious garden air drifted out. Nothing was moving.
They passed the roses toward the filtration access panel where three of Griiek’s four slender arms and half the rest of her were already buried. Ikaryo caught a whiff of their delicate perfume but it seemed muted already, the lush blossoms softening around the edges.
Was the whole ship slowly dying?
With no trajectory to pilot them along at the moment, Delphine was assisting the deck tech with lume sticks and tools. She gave the captain a nod. “Bio overgrowth in the tanks. The bactoalgae is engineered for rapid growth to support oxygen production, but not like this. Sent the flow specs to Chief; he thinks rerouting so much power to the containment unit let the system stagnate just enough to clog.”
Griiek popped her head out of the tank, her slightly bulbous amphibian eyes wide. “Sent a sample to Chef too. They say it’ll make a good salad.” The deck tech’s tongue did a sweep of her wide mouth.
At least someone could enjoy this fiasco.
“We’ll all bebreathingsalad if this spreads to the main atmospheric recyclers,” Delphine warned.
“How do we clear it?” Nehivar asked.
