Kilews

She stumbled back, slammed the cargo door, and ran to the bridge.

She picked up her sonic spanner, not as a mechanic, but as a thief. And she went to open every single cage. kilews

Voss was asleep. She shook him awake. “The birds. They talk. They knew my name.” She stumbled back, slammed the cargo door, and

“Kilews.”

“They’re cargo,” Voss snapped. “Now get back to your engines. We deliver in six hours.” Voss was asleep

Her hands were always stained. Not with glory, but with engine oil from the old Kessler-9 drive that wheezed and coughed like a dying man. Captain Voss said the ship had a soul. Kilews said the ship had a leaking primary coolant seal, and if Voss didn’t sign off on the repair order, that soul was going to become a permanent, frozen ghost.

Kilews sat in the dark of the engine room, surrounded by the ghosts trapped in silver cages. She could fix a coolant leak. She could patch a hull breach. But she had no idea how to repair a broken soul.