OGENUS EARTH 🌎 🌊 {Dystopian Sci-Fi Adventure}

Where The Streets Have No Name

"What's it worth?" Harrison demanded.

An amusingly over-suited Tinker looked up from behind his enormous goggles. The fishy odor permeated the enclosed shipping bay, seeping further into the fibers of Harrison and Big Joe's clothes.

"Scale's reading thirty-seven credits," the Tinker replied uncertainly. "No, forty-thr- No wait!"

His gloved hands stumbled over the projected keypad, trying to recalibrate the scale. 

Big Joe watched the digitized numbers like a neon slot machine, pumping his fists as they clicked up and down within fractions of each other. Which only served to trip the poor Tinker up even worse, or perhaps the sheer volume of the excited man had something to do with it.

"You're killin' me, kid!" Harrison barked back, rolling his eyes as Big Joe collapsed into gut-busting laughter.

"Forty-five." The Tinker blinked, trying to sound more confident as the numbers finally came to rest.

"You sure?" Big Joe hooted.

"Yes, forty-five will be added to your accounts, minus any outstanding debts you may have with us." The Tinker nodded from behind his platformed bench.

"Shit," Harrison muttered sharply under his breath. "So can you tell me the actual number of credits in my account?"

"Looks like your total today comes to negative seventy-three." The Tinker's eyes bulged at the numbers on his projected screen.

"Sh-it," Harrison cursed again.

"There aren't enough fish in the sea to satisfy your cravings." Big Joe rumbled from behind him as a meaty paw clapped down on Harrison's shoulder in pity.

"That's fine, load 'em up," Harrison instructed.

"The numbers have already been settled, sir."

Harrison tossed a look over his shoulder at his ship with the love and frustration of a big brother. 

It was an older Aegus model that he and Big Joe had managed to not only keep running but improve upon as well. The result of their resourceful ingenuity was a swollen discus of patch-worked metal and technology that could glide through the waves like the creature it was aptly named after. Granted, it wasn't too pretty to behold from the outside (or inside), but it was home.

Unlike this confounded hunk of junk, Harrison thought, letting his eyes drift over the welded walls and dull matte colors of the shipping bay. 

"What's your name?" Harrison asked, switching tactics and wheeling his head around so fast that the Tinker jumped back.

The shrunken man blinked in rapid sucession, trying to remember the last time someone had asked that question.

"J-Jove," he finally stuttered.

"You sure?" Big Joe lost his tentative hold on his composure to squat over his knees with a bellowing guffaw that ricocheted off the curvilinear walls. 

"Jove? I'm Harrison," his easy charm resonated in his voice with a warm tenor. "My crewmate, Big Joe, and I have some business here on Arc City One, do you mind if we park here for a few hours? I just want to keep our ship at the ready in case we need to make a quick exit. Know what I mean?"

Jove's eyes bounced back and forth from the sailor to his much bigger friend, sizing up whether this was a question or an implied threat. Perhaps there wasn't a difference in this case. He'd run their records. He knew who Harrison was and Jove wanted no part of that hornet's nest.