Black Hole Heartbeat

Mogg - 69

The broadcast made him sick. He sat in the kitchen, not cooking. No one had come for food. Donovan and Roka radioed to invite him for a drink in memory of Querius, but moving felt impossible.

A fist rapped on the metal shutters of the serving hatch. He ignored it. The noise only grew louder. "I told you guys, I'm not –" He flung the shutter open. Serpe was standing there, leaning on a crutch. "You're the chef aren't you?" "One of my jobs." "So where's the food?" Her arm shook as it gripped the cane. "Kitchen's closed tonight. I think people have lost their appetite." Serpe's eyes narrowed. "A grey Krei that mourns a Jahlder. You make your ancestors weep." "Nicest thing anyone's said to me in a long time." "People die. The living need to eat."

That sneering blue skin. Mogg shook his head and climbed over the counter. "You want to eat? Make your own." She tried to block him as he walked away. "A Jahlder is dead. On Excha there would be banquet." "That's why I left."

Mogg pushed past her and left the Mess Hall. His legs dragged him to Querius' lab. Deep breath. He ran his hand through his fur before he knocked, feeling loose strands. Krakk peeled the door open. "I'd like to say goodbye," Mogg said. "There'll be a funeral tomorrow," Krakk said. "I won't be here tomorrow" Krakk seemed to understand. He stepped aside and allowed the door to swing inwards.

Rusalka was in the lab too, arm looped around Krakk's. She bowed her head as Mogg passed by. Krakk had done a good job. There was no trace of pain left in Querius' face. He seemed free. Mogg didn't speak, only looked. No currency was worth this. He'd left Excha in search of peace and wandered into war. After a moment of silent respect, Mogg

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

189

nodded to Krakk, turned and left.

His legs were lighter now, but his head still hung heavy. This place held no hope for him now. He reached the hangar and found it deserted.

A fresh start. Elsewhere. He had done it before. You work hard, you get by. Any one of these shuttles would take him as far as he needed. That sneering blue skin. There was only one ship he wanted. Red as Human blood. He took a screwdriver from the tool hatch and crawled under Serpe's shuttle. Blue Krei never noticed the little things. Her door had been loose since she arrived, small buckle on the lower lip. He'd never bothered to fix it. Driver in place, he slapped down on the shaft and popped it open.

Inside, he worked the screwdriver on the control panel. It slipped loose and left wires exposed. Mogg had lost count of the amount of sharp-fighters he'd built in his life. Green to brown. Hotwired. The engine spluttered and came alive. He ran out of the shuttle and set the hangar doors on a timer. They creaked open as he clambered back inside. More fur fell out. Screwdriver tucked in his pocket, he blasted off.