Even if he had to deal with nagging chits all day long.
“And this one,” Grace held up the second vial with a triumphant smile, “is the official start of your new life. Like, the officialofficialone, not the official unofficial one. I know you’ve been Vytln for a while now. But with this, your identity will be able to withstand almost all scrutiny. It would take probably the High Imperium themselves to find your real identity through this. Okay, maybe notthatexclusive, but pretty much.”
Chatter, chatter, nag, nag. Vytln was barely paying attention. He was sure that this was a good thing or the captain wouldn’t have agreed to do it. And if the captain agreed, to Vytln’s way of thinking, that was as good as an order, so he would do it.
Didn’t mean he had to like it.
Had to admit though, it was kind of strange hearing her talking about the death of his old name.
Sure, he hadn’t thought about the name J’tll in a long time. It didn't even feel like his name any longer. He was certainly more attached to being Vytln than he ever was to J’tll.
But it was still odd to think that he was officially putting him to death.
“There!” Grace beamed, holding up the vials, both indicators now glowing purple. “And with that, you are now and forevermore Vytln y Lt. Happy official birthday. Well, actually, un-birthday since I set your birthday to-”
“Are you done?” He asked, not at all caring about any of that. As far as he was concerned, this was just more of the nonsense that Grace was supposed to do but didn’t concern him at all. His job was to fix this ship and nothing else. Any and everything else was a problem for a different crew member, or Tanin would deal with it himself.
It was a far cry from who J’tll used to be, but this was Vytln’s way of life.
A much happier one.
Even with nagging females.
Grace gave him a look – like she was annoyed with his interruption. Once again demonstrating her absolute lack of fear of him. He grumbled as she sighed.
“Yes, Vytln. Though I’m sure this was a heavy burden to you, I thank you for your kindness in helping me make your life easier.”
Vytln snarled at her. She huffed, unimpressed, before turning, flicking her hair hard enough to smack his arm, then flouncing away. Her skirt and hair bounced with each step as he grumbled, turning to head back to his workroom.
Not even a hint of discomfort. There was a time that he’d earned a name, the Brute, on Rik-Vane because people were afraid to speak his real name. They were afraid it might summon him or catch his attention. He was a monster whispered about in the night.
Now, he was hounded by three females small enough to fit in his arms all at once and too weak to fight back if he wanted to hurt them.
It was insulting.
But…
He wasn’t actually insulted. Those three naggy little females were his crew. They weren’t meant to fear him. The fact that they walked around a crowd of murderers and challenged them without hesitation or concern was good. It meant they felt safe with them. It meant that they knew they were all family.
Still annoying. A good, annoying thing.
Turning, he started down the hall, heading back to his workroom. He had failed to locate the pest again, but he wasn’t giving up. He knew something was in the ship, messing about with the internals. Despite the fact that their many searches had turned up nothing, and that Alred, their AI, couldn’t find anything on scan, he knew he was right. He’d get that pest.
He just needed the right trap.
Vytln’s workroom was immediately adjacent to the engine of the ship. And that was by design. He’d deliberately chosen and adapted that space to his needs.
He was a southern pole lvtl, which meant his body was adapted for extreme heat. The other half of his species, the northern pole lvtls, were adapted to the extreme cold. They were two different races of the same species, fully capable of interbreeding. Most would not, however, because as much as he could tolerate the heat, he could not tolerate the cold – and vica versa. Besides that, interbreeding between the two races created a mixed-race child that was tolerant to neither heat nor cold.
For that reason, his species had a very strong division in the races. His home planet was tidally locked, one side near always facing the sun and one side almost always facing away. The very thin line between those two points where a mixed race lvtl could live wasn’t particularly habitable thanks to the overabundance of large predators. Having a mixed-race youngling was not encouraged by the very planet itself.
Vytln came from the hot part of the planet. His body was designed to take on a great deal of heat and radiation without consequence. Hence, working right next to the ship engine had never bothered him, even before they’d fixed the shielding. When the engine was at full blast, he couldn’t get too close to the heart of it, but he otherwise had no problems at all. He rather preferred it. The rest of the ship was cold to him. His workroom being so hot made it the most comfortable place for him.
He’d even utilized the heat, building a forge in his workroom. He focused the heat from the engine into it, allowing him to craft his own parts and pieces, or repair the broken ones they already had. The forge was crude and basic. It was the first one he’d ever made, and he’d needed to look up instructions on how to do it. But it had also been repaired and upgraded, like everything else on this ship, and while it wasn’t pretty, it was perfectly functional for everything he needed.
His workroom was full of half-finished projects in various states of repair. Engine pieces, the gutted remains of their old life support system that he was breaking down for parts, various components of their plumbing, atmosphere, and system parts. He had the hollowed out remains of what had been their previous gravity generator, broken down to make the new one. He was cannibalizing what was left for the metal to make other engine parts.
Since their last repair, the shielding had been replaced and repaired so that the engine, which was open and visible through the hole made by the two angled walls halfway into the room, was no longer pumping as much heat and radiation into the room. The glowing, pale white line on the floor, walls, and ceiling demarcated where the shield was operational. Half the forge was beyond the shields, gathering heat, but the half he worked on was in the noticeably cooler half.
