Page 12 of Havik: Warlord Brides
“I have an idea.”
* * *
“What do you think?”Ren planted his hands on his hips and stood with pride in front of the dilapidated ship.
The vessel, an Envoy model from a defunct manufacturer, had been popular a century ago. Small enough to enter the atmosphere and land almost anywhere, it was able to traverse long distances with minimal refueling. Able to be operated with a two-person crew, it could accommodate up to six passengers.
“It’s more rust than ship,” Havik said.
“It’s a classic!” Ren eagerly strode up the ramp.
“It’s not space worthy.”
“Not yet.” Ren tugged on the entry hatch, leaning in with his shoulder. Metal groaned. He kicked at the door, forcing it to open. A panel from further overhead dislodged and clattered to the ground. “I can fix that. Don’t look at that.”
Inside, the ship smelled of dust and neglect. Lights flickered and hummed, giving some proof of life. Ren rattled off an impressive list of facts about the Envoy model. “It’s old but popular in its day, which means replacement parts are cheap and easy to find. There’s a new generation of this style, which means I can upgrade the systems because I know how you love your modern comforts.”
Havik gave his friend a sharp look. He spent the last year sleeping on the ground or in a rover. Comfort was the least of his concerns. Ren seemed to understand this without a word and laughed, his tail swaying happily behind him.
“It’s big enough for a Mahdfel—watch your head,” Ren warned as Havik bumped his head on a doorway. “I can fix that. Or you can learn to duck.”
“You claimed this was large enough for a Mahdfel.”
“Well, it’s spacious. Look at all this space.” Ren stretched out his arms and waggled his hands.
“It lacks adequate clearance.” Havik stretched a hand in the air and easily touched the ceiling.
“Perhaps the problem is you are too tall. Have you tried being shorter?” Ren frowned and pushed on Havik’s shoulders, as if trying to scrunch him down.
“I doubt this rust bucket can even get off the ground,” Havik grumbled.
“She will fly. The engine’s in decent shape, and she was never gutted for parts. All the important bits are there,” Ren said. He ran an appreciative hand along the wall, smearing a path through the dust. Havik realized his protests did not matter. Ren was completely enamored with the dilapidated vessel.
“How much?”
Ren quoted a ridiculous amount. “Don’t make that face. Ships are not cheap.”
“This one should be.” Havik eased open the door to the helm. The instrument panel remained, thankfully, in one piece but had exposed wires and circuits. He lowered himself into the pilot’s seat, a cloud of dust enveloping him. The kumakre scrambled up into his lap, making for the back of the chair, and perching there like it was made for him.
“That includes the cost of repairs. I have most of the necessary credits,” Ren said. He perched on the edge of the navigator’s chair. The instrument panel already sat at the perfect height for him, no adjustment needed.
“If I provide the rest of the credits, we own it together,” Havik said.
“Of course. Partners.”
He ran a hand along the instrument panel, the ship’s computer slowly awakening with flashing lights and beeps. This ship would be the first thing truly his and not associated with his father in any way.
He liked that idea, the freedom of it.
“How long will the repairs take?”
“I’ll need a day to inspect all the systems. Some parts may need to be special-ordered.”
“If you had all you require?”
“A week, give or take a day.”
A week. That seemed impossible even for as talented an engineer as Ren.
