Starborn: Origin of the Stars

The Melody II, Robin's pride and joy.

The ship was a custom-made planetary ship for atmospheric flights. While it wasn’t the fastest one out there or came with much comfort, it still was his symbol for freedom. He had worked on this project for more than three years already and it was nearly time for her first flight.

With the chassis of an old Apex Bunga as the basis, the black ship was roughly 3 by 10 meters in size, with a height of 2 meters. The rear proudly showed two big plasma thrusters, hopefully able to push the ship to a cruising speed of 230m/s, maybe up to 400m/s in a straight line under some strain.

From the transparent cockpit on, the front narrowed to a streamlined 2-meter-wide line. Two winglets, also black, were extending to each side. The bigger ones towards the rear and the smaller ones at front.

Built for two passengers and with a 250 kg payload cargo hold, this ship was made for planetary travel, smaller errands and comes in handy, when one needs to… get away quickly.

“Hey Rob, how is it going? Is she still not fledged yet?” A rumbling voice came from behind, just as Robin booted the ship’s systems.

“Jim! I didn’t think you would come over today.” He greeted the workshop’s namesake and owner, “She still needs some calibrations and probably a new control unit for the front nozzles. You don’t happen to have one in those pockets of yours, do you?”

“Unfortunately, no. Can’t help you with that buddy.” The huge, bearded man shook his head.

Jim looked like a bear from the ancient stories of Earth, just without all the fur. His arms resembled trunks and his brown hair hung ruffled over his eyes that always had a slightly silvery glow.

A manifestation of his mutation, a Class C - Metal Affinity. What this G-Anomaly exactly does depends mostly on the user. In this case, Jim created some skills that were supporting his work with different and often quite complex materials and alloys he needed to build modern technologies.

Also, Jim was old already. Not ancient or anything, but Robin suspected he had at least cracked the 100 years mark. With mankind’s achievements in medicine and gene manipulation, the average person could easily live up to 150 years.

“Jim, the fucking door…” Robin started, but the man cut him short.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get a new one - at some point.”

Robin threw him a questioning glance but decided to switch topics for now.

“So, how did the meetings go? Got us some new clients?” He asked.

“Actually, I do think so, yes. With you working here and finally enough recommendations from our customers, I got the guys from Privateers on the hook.”

“Uh? Not bad! They are into planetary transportation services for wealthy folks, right?”

“Yeah, so no more fooling around in the workshop!” Jim nodded with a grin.

“Fooling my ass…” Robin scowled, “Better get that door changed and while your're at it, also fix the shop’s sign. Looks like the house of a beggar from the outside.”

“Hmhm” Jim agreed, his mind clearly somewhere else.

“What is it?” Robin became suspicious.

“Have you seen the pending job offer for accompaniment in the Wuranger-exhibition?” Jim asked sheepishly.

“What? No! No, definitely not.” Robin instantly denied.

“Rob…”

“No! I’m not going to babysit some dude while he is looking at dead plants. The payment sucks and it’s on the other side of the city.” Robin exclaimed, “Why are you even bringing that up? It’s an open contract and not assigned to the workshop.”

“Well, yes - the contract is an open one, since a few weeks already to be precise…” Jim began.

“See? No technocrafter is interested in this shit. Pretty clear message, I would say!” Robin interrupted again.

“The request comes from a client of the Privateers. I may or may not have mentioned that you would be happy to take it?” Jim threw him an apologetic look, “As a special service in favor of our future cooperation, so to say.”

“Seriously? That's a low blow man! Do you stock up the payout or do I have to cover the overhead costs all on my own?”

Clearly unhappy, Robin kicked some tools over the floor.

“Ah, you know I can’t do that…” The huge man said and scratched his head.

“...”

Taking a look at Melody II in contemplation, he continued “...but I just remember that there was a broken control unit in the Tuba 102 over there. Probably forgot to write it in the report. I’ll go and fix that immediately.”

With a sheepish grin, Jim hurried back to the office.

Robin watched him for a moment as he fled and then sighed.

“Well, fine.” he finally conceded and walked back to the CTV with the once fluctuating vents.

“Then it’s better if I hurry up and replace the broken unit.”

After dismantling the old control unit and installing a new one, he added the needed spare parts to the customer’s bill and shuffled back to his own ship. Checking the clock, he decided that it was time to go home.

He stored his recently acquired control unit on a rusty shelf and made his way to the train station.

Back at home, Robin once more enjoyed the benefits of the high-quality food generator, while he opened the Interface and accepted the pending request. After taking a shower, he hit the bed.

The next day he found a message from the Privateer’s client. The Ommih, Mr. Ragweed, made an appointment for the end of the week, so there was still some time to pass.

For the following days, Robin was quite busy at the workshop. They had slightly more CTVs coming in than usual, on Thursday he even had to fix four of them in a row.

He still managed to squeeze out some hours to install the new control unit but didn't find any time for the final calibrations.

When Friday arrived, Robin found himself sitting in the train towards a museum in one of Seka’s better districts.