The Mechanic Part II

The metal ship appears exactly where the ferryman described. No markings, no flags, nothing to identify it. Just sleek metal designed to cut through waves that would tear standard vessels apart. The hull's construction catches his expert eye - probably stolen materials stripped from military vessels. The quality is unmistakable.

Axel's steps slow as he approaches the vessel. Something about its presence sets him on edge, his Gulls twitching involuntarily in response to his unease.

Axel knew if the situation took a turn for the worst, he still had a last resort. The left arm houses a retractable hammer - perfect for pod repairs, or breaking bones if needed. The right conceals a more lethal surprise: a modified gun capable of delivering enough voltage to stop a heart. Both modifications were strictly illegal, but in a world where survival often hinges on having an edge, such concerns seem trivial.

A clang echoes from somewhere aboard the ship. Axel's Gulls automatically shift into a defensive configuration, servos humming as they prime for potential combat.

"Hello?" His voice carries across the empty dock.

A flash of movement catches his eye. From the ferry's cabin emerges a figure that makes him pause mid-step. A girl with hair like fresh snow and skin that gleams in the murky light. Her presence seems at odds with the rugged vessel, as if someone had placed a delicate porcelain doll amid wreckage.

Her icy blue eyes lock onto him, devoid of warmth or welcome. The oversized black shirt she wears nearly swallows her slight frame. Beneath it peeks a crisp white collar, and white sleeves hang past her hands.

Axel's mechanical fingers flex unconsciously. Something about her sets his instincts on edge - the way she moves with careful precision, how those cold eyes seem to catalog his every detail.

The silence stretches between them, heavy as lead. The girl's icy blue eyes bore into Axel, unblinking, her expression unreadable.

Axel shifts his weight, the dock creaking beneath his boots. "You the captain?"

A single nod.

The mechanic's eyes narrow, taking in her youthful appearance. The girl before him looks barely old enough to operate a skiff, let alone navigate through a hurricane. But beggars can't be choosers, and time isn't on his side.

"Need to get to Olrog. Fast as possible." Axel keeps his voice neutral, professional. "Can you manage it?"

Another nod, just as sharp as the first. The girl turns on her heel, her movements fluid and precise. She heads toward the ship's controls, her steps silent despite the metal deck. Her hands move across the console with practiced efficiency, checking gauges and adjusting settings.

The engines rumble to life, a deep vibration that travels through the deck plates. Steam hisses from vents along the hull, and the mooring lines begin to slacken as the girl prepares the vessel for departure.

The girl then heads to the controls, her back turned to Axel. The whir of machinery fills the silence between them.

"Long way to Olrog," Axel asks. "Name your price."

"No price." Her voice is sharp as arctic winds.

Axel's eyes narrow, mechanical fingers flexing. Free passage seems too good to be true, especially in these waters. But the growing storm clouds on the horizon remind him he's running out of options.

"Suit yourself." He shrugs, leaning against the cabin wall. If she wants to play mysterious captain and offer free rides, who is he to argue? The sooner he gets to Olrog, the sooner he can collect his payment for the pod repairs.

The ferry lurches forward, the engine rumbling to life as it cuts through the choppy waters. Axel braces himself, the salty spray stinging his eyes. He glances back at the girl, who is standing at the helm, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon.

"You sure you know what you're doing?" Axel calls out, his voice barely audible over the roar of the engine.

The girl turns her head, her eyes meeting his. "I know exactly what I'm doing," she replied, her tone calm and assured.

***

The gentle hum of engines fills the silence between them. Axel sits on a metal crate near the stern, his back against the cabin wall. His Gulls click and whir as he inspects the joints, running diagnostic checks on the servo motors. The familiar routine helps pass the time, gives his hands something to do besides fidget under the girl's occasional cold stare.

The left arm's hammer mechanism catches slightly - probably salt buildup in the gears again. He pulls a small tool from his belt, working it between the plates to clear the debris. The metal gleams dully in the overcast light, its surface scarred from years of use.

Axel's gaze darts toward the girl, contemplating whether she was familiar with such mechanical modifications. Her hands, mostly concealed by her long sleeves, suggest she might possess Gulls herself.

Axel works the small tool deeper between the Gull's plates, clearing out chunks of salt and grime. The left arm's servos whine in protest as he flexes each joint, testing the range of motion.

The maintenance reminds him of the CryoCore pods he services - each one representing salvation for those wealthy enough to afford them. When the hurricanes came - and they always came - the elite would simply climb into their cocoons and sleep through nature's fury. Their bodies preserved in perfect stasis while the world outside drowned.

As Axel finishes the last adjustments on his Gulls, his thoughts circle back to Gilmore's empty pod. The mystery nags at him like a loose bolt begging to be tightened. Gilmore, a man who thrived on control and appearances, wouldn’t vanish without a word. It doesn’t add up.

A smirk tugs at Axel’s lips. Tracking down Gilmore could be his golden ticket. Imagine the leverage he’d gain- enough to land that coveted CryoCore contract downtown, the one that would triple his income and finally put him ahead of the game.

He closes the maintenance panel with a sharp click. This isn’t about loyalty or concern- he doesn’t have the luxury of those things. This is pure opportunity, a chance to leverage chaos into profit.