The ship was quiet, except for the quiet muffle of voices coming from the captain's ready room, though 'quiet' doesn't describe the atmosphere inside the room.
"I don't understand why you're making me do this bullshit," Tre said.
"Because it's an order isn't enough?" the captain replied.
"No, Nia, it's not enough."
"It's going to have to be if you want to remain on this ship."
"You're not in the fucking navy anymore. The BOS is owned by a civilian," Vivian said, though she wasn't quite sure. The owner of the Beacon of Solace was a mystery to her, and suspected it was to the captain as well.
"And that owner is paying us to fix this guy's atmospheric processor."
"I thought we didn't care about being paid."
"Not by the people who really need the aid, and the reason we can do that is jobs like this."
"This guy's a fucking trillionaire. Don't tell me he can't afford an actual mechanic."
"You are an actual mechanic, Ms. Perez." The captain said. Tre rolled her eyes. "Look. I'm no fan of this guy either, but it's not like we're helping this guy commit genocide or human trafficking or something."
"Are you sure?" Tre asked, rhetorically. "We can be pretty sure he's not helping anyone. Again, why the fuck does he need us, Nia?"
"I don't know, okay? But he's planetside so if you do it quick we won't even have to see him. Would you just do it already so we can get away from this shithole?" The captain stood up from her chair with angry authority. Tre relented.
"Fine," She said, throwing up her arms. She turned around in a huff and pressed a panel that opened the door next to it.
"And Estrella," The captain said, "don't make me give you the whole 'it's Captain Dubois' routine."
Estrella rolled her eyes again and stormed out of the room, the impact dulled by the inability to slam the automatic doors.
Tre cursed under her breath as she deboarded the Beacon of Solace and began walking across the dock toward the unmarked ship in the opposite berth. While the ship couldn't be identified by an exterior number, the outer markings were as overly opulent as only a tacky trillionaire could have.
"Horrid, isn't it."
Chills ran down Tre's spine as she heard the all-too-familiar voice. If Tre wasn't happy before, she was now livid. Whatever was left of her drive had been sapped from her body with only a few words. Then the woman spoke a few more.
"You know, you could do a lot more than fix the atmosphere. Or, you could stretch the definition of 'fix,' you know?"
Tre could feel the phantom woman standing next to her, staring at her, like she always did whenever she decided to show up. It took everything she had to ignore the woman, but ignore she did. Tre continued into the ship, hoping that her visitor wouldn't be able to follow her.
The moment Tre stepped onto the ship, she shivered with a feeling that she shouldn't be there. Making it worse was that the ship appeared to be entirely staffed by automated companions, but there was a silver lining in Eden being left behind. At least the ship was quiet. Tre turned to one of the faceless companions near the gangway.
"Life support."
The companion responded with a nod and a silent gesture to follow. It was a decent hike through the corridors of the overly large ship to get to the life support room. Once inside, Tre found the primary control console and started diagnosis.
Mechanically speaking, the processors seemed to be doing fine, but sensors in several of the ships compartments were showing less-than-ideal airflow.
"Fucking shit," Tre said.
She was hoping that she would only have to change a fuse or do a soft reboot or whatever didn't require her to go anywhere else. She had no such luck. In all likelihood, she was going to have to clear the ventilation ducts of blockages. She let out a heavy sigh, and several more, on her way to to the ventilation access hatch nearest to the first issue compartment.
"I'm going to be very pissed off if there's a xenomorph in here," Tre said as she donned her goggles and respirator before climbing up into the ducts.
It was a small relief to find the first blockage of built-up dust and dirt in the duct. At least she knew the problem, and she was prepared to fix it by blasting it away with compressed air. Unfortunately, it was going to completely cover her exposed skin and hair, something that made Tre gag with every cloud of dust she moved through.
She put on some music that helped her suppress her disgust. It took a few hours, but eventually she had only one more duct to clear out, the duct to the main cabin.
Instead of going the long way around and hacking into the owner's personal quarters, she simply entered through the vent. When she was on her feet, she looked around the room and gagged again, disgusted by the absurd affluence that was on display.
Nothing in the room was necessary except for the bed, which itself was the icon of opulence, the kind of creation that would cost her a lifetime to be able to afford. Tre again wondered why the guy was using the services of an undercover emergency relief ship instead of hiring some cheap local technicians. She shook it off and turned back to the open vent and continued her work. She vacuumed up the collected dust and replaced the filter in the vent cover. Once she was complete, she thought she'd give herself a little break and plop down into one of the ultra-stylish chairs, making sure to transfer as much of her dust onto the nice, once immaculately clean fabric.
Tre felt the tight soreness in her back melt away as she stretched on the incredibly comfortable chair. She looked at the bed and considered jumping into it, but she was afraid that the moment she did, it would turn into a nap, and then into a sleep, and she would ultimately be woken by the trillionaire. Instead she started walking around the room, looking at whatever trinkets she could find, hoping for something small enough to pocket that she could sell for a house or something.
There were no such trinkets to be found lying around anywhere. The room was pristine. If there were small loose items, they were neatly tucked away, so Tre started opening whatever drawers and cabinets she could find. She quickly found the owner's underwear drawer, but she was not the type to do a panty raid. Not on a man, anyway. When she was finished with the dresser, she moved to the cabinet next to it to find a large number of marital aids and a few metal implements that went a step further.
Tre closed the cabinet as soon as her brain understood what she was looking at, and she didn't feel the need to continue looking. She stepped away from the cabinet and began moving towards the exit when she noticed a small high-end luggage case that appeared to be moving almost imperceptibly so.
The first thing that came to Tre's mind was that it was some fucked up trillionaire toy. Tre wasn't interested anymore and continued toward the door, but the case moved again. This time, something started nagging at Tre. She was having a hard time ignoring it, and knew that she would hyperfixate on it later if she didn't take a look now. She huffed and moved over to the case, flipping it off its wheels and onto a flat surface. As she did, she felt it move again.
The case had a digital lock on it, one that Tre was familiar with. One that she had practice cracking, and within seconds, she was able to connect and brute force the code. The lock released and the case opened automatically with a hiss and a fog. Tre wasn't exactly sure what she was looking at, but when it hit her, it became a sight that she hoped she had never seen.
Inside the case was the nude torso of a woman, missing her arms and legs, strapped in, with various tubes forced into each orifice.
"What the fuck?" Tre shouted as she reactively crawled away from the case.
She had seen dead bodies before, even dismembered ones, as it came with the territory for being on the Beacon of Solace, but she had never seen one so close. Tre was frozen in fear, then the woman in the case moved, reacting to the cool air against her bare skin.
