The engines were down. Again. The Maritime Law had been adrift in space for several hours now, the latest in a series of malfunctions to the ship. Aston was at his wit’s end trying to solve the problem.
“Malcolm, what’s our current position?” he called out.
The shipmind’s tone was a pleasant baritone. “We are currently 20% of the way across our traversal of inter-galactic space.”
Not good, thought Aston. Not nearly good enough.
Out loud, he said, “Can you identify the cause of the engine failure?”
Malcolm’s response was immediate. “I cannot identify it directly, but I surmise from the symptoms of the failure that a slipstream injector has failed. As we do not a spare one in inventory here, you will likely need to kitbash a makeshift replacement from spare parts.”
“Wonderful,” Aston said, acidly. He didn’t know if he even had the right spare parts to fabricate a replacement injector, let alone if he had the knowledge and skill to do so. Malcolm could likely guide him on the process, but there was only so much a shipmind could do.
“Very well, Malcolm, we’d best get started. I haven’t come this far just to only come this far.”
