The Vessel

2. Machinamentum

Gunnar hated Deck Twelve. The air there hung heavy with unspeakable things, broken up only by a sour breeze that stunk of death. As a Fabricator, he had one of the few jobs that required him to visit nearly every corner of every deck of the ship, from the bathrooms to the cafeterias to every one of the environments. But none of them, not one of them, smelled quite like the Recycling Plant.

As he headed toward Wastewater Processing, where he'd been summoned minutes earlier, Gunnar looked up at the two miles of pipes that weaved overhead, occasionally snaking along the walls and down underfoot. Inside those pipes, pressurized waste of all kinds moved in the dark, their destination a series of massive vats that stood a hundred feet high. Deck Twelve was extra tall to allow for the sheer size of the vats. The waste inside them went through a series of highly-specialized processes in which the components were broken down and separated into their atomic building blocks. The sound of sloshing and squishing was ever present, and the odors that wafted from the vats left little to the imagination.

Yes, Recycling may have made their way of life possible, but it was still disgusting.

Gunnar crossed a catwalk, increasing his stride to clear the vat of black liquid below, thick bubbles popping on its oily surface, and wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead. The extra humidity generated by the processing meant the artificial sunlight was kept to a minimum on Deck Twelve, lit instead by computer displays and bioluminescence. It lent the deck an eerie color, nestled at some uncomfortable point between green and yellow.

Reaching the other side, he passed a group of men and women in orange uniforms, Recyclers crowded around a game of Bohap. The dice were currently in the hands of Saam, a man Gunnar knew too well. Saam had cheated at every game Gunnar had ever played against him, which wasn't many once Gunnar caught on. Still, it was a lesson that had cost Gunnar more than a few Trade Points to learn.

"Look out, boys," Saam said, "we got a yellow-suit on deck. If you're not careful he'll fabricate a knife right into your backs." The others chuckled. It wasn't uncommon to see mistrust between the Vocations.

"He's the one you should watch. I've never seen a bigger cheater in my entire life," Gunnar replied.

The dark-eyed man squinted at him as he rolled the dice on the ground. "Ehh, ignore him. He's just a sore loser."

Before anyone could stop him, Gunnar stomped the tumbling dice under his boot, eliciting a round of angry shouts. But when he lifted his foot, showing them the crushed dice with their shattered microchips inside, the angry shouts shifted toward Saam. "Harum zadeh," Saam cursed under his breath.

"Enjoy your game," Gunnar said with a grin, continuing on his way. A short while later, after making his way to Wastewater Processing and taking in the scene, he turned to Abigail. The slightly short but very curvy woman stood watching him in her orange uniform, her eternally dirty hands on her hips. "It stinks in here," he told her.

"It usually does."

"Yeah, well today it really stinks."

"It's like I told Seth, the scum skimmer is unresponsive on Clarifier Three." She pointed to the large vat, this one more wide than it was tall. It usually hummed and churned with the sounds of dirty water, but for the moment it had fallen silent. "If you want to get out of here quickly, fix that and you can be on your way."

Gunnar turned to Seth, who was watching him with multiwrench in hand. He'd worked with the Mechanic for a while now, yet he'd only drawn one conclusion about the guy: he was better looking than he was mechanically intuitive- and he wasn't that good looking. "Did you try kicking it," Gunnar asked him.

"I tried everything required when a scum skimmer is unresponsive."

"Does that include kicking it?"