“I almost never look up,” Mauren said. “It’s never any different anyway. All the ships look the same when you get inside of them.” Mikey considered that from where he was leaning against the curved support joist.

“I guess that’s probably true. They kind of have to be built the same way most of the time; you can’t really deviate too much from the standard or they start falling from the sky. Still, they’re fascinating when you’re not used to them. I’ve always wanted to fly in one, we’ve got books about them back home.” He took a bite from the apple he was holding and squatted down over the hole in the walkway where the smaller woman was working, tangled wires weaving like a spider’s web and sparks flying like stars. “Look, I feel awkward just standing here watching you work. Can I hand you tools? Fetch you water? Something?”

Mauren poked her head up from the hole and stared at him with her large, pale eyes. Slowly, she opened her mouth. “I need a four-ninths strip hauler set to fourteen centigrams of torque.” She blinked once, and her head slowly sank back down into the hole. Mikey stared after her, considering whether or not it was worthwhile to ask for clarification, or if Jamie would be able to help him.

“Or you could just keep me company. There’s no such thing as a four-ninths strip hauler anyway.”

Mikey let out a bark of laughter and took another bite of the apple. “I can do that. Want me to sing you a song? I heard you playing through the wall last night, I—”

“Sorry.”

“—thought you could use someone to sing along. Earl’s tried teaching me, but I never really picked up the—wait, why are you sorry? It was good, I really enjoyed it.”

“…I lose track of time when I play. I stayed up too late, and I should have stopped and let you sleep. Won’t happen again.” A flash of light came from the hole, followed by a muffled yelp and some Uduinn cursing.

Mikey hesitated, but when the light died down and the sound of her work resumed, he let it go. “That’s… I honestly didn’t notice. I fell asleep before you stopped, it was very relaxing. Feel free to play like that whenever you want.”

A silence fell, broken only by the sounds of Mauren’s work on the ship. Mikey looked down at the apple left in his hand but felt that any crunch he made eating it would disrupt her thoughts.

“I’m not very good. But ok. If you like it,” came her soft voice from below. Released from the tension, Mikey took another bite of his apple and straightened up, leaning back against the joist. The ship around them creaked on the wind of the ‘port, and the sounds of the other crew members filled the halls, echoing around the curved structure. It was impossible to make out what they were saying, but Renault’s distinct voice could be heard ordering the others around and directing the flow of crates and other supplies. Their journey wouldn’t begin for another week, but most of the crew had taken to sleeping aboard the ship already anyway; they awoke well before sunrise and many of them stayed up swapping stories and drinks well into the night.

It wasn’t really Mikey’s scene. He had joined in a few nights, but they were all much rougher than he was, despite his experiences in the rest of the worlds. He preferred to stay in his cabin and look over Aida’s notes, trying to piece together anything he could about where he could find Imago and, hopefully, get back to the diner and find the others.