A Certain Kind of Life - 1. Chapter 1

James Teegan awoke slowly in his bunk aboard the Life's Pride, an Explorer class starship bound for Europa Station. He unwrapped himself from the thin blanket that was partially covering his semi-clothed form. It took a while, as he'd thrashed around a bit in the night and tangled himself in it. Eventually freeing himself, the twenty-two year old engineer swung his legs over the side of the bunk and silently dropped the short distance from his upper level bunk to the floor, bending his knees to dampen any sound as he landed.

The room was dark, only a few slivers of light from some very dim lighting circuits illuminating it. This was of no concern to the engineer as he pulled the blanket around himself to add to his only other clothing of simple grey cotton trousers, and began to pad quietly towards the door, knowing the room's layout off by heart.

He was halfway to the exit when a soft, deep voice interrupted his stealthy movements. "Up late.”

James stopped dead, turning to face the direction of the voice. Standing in a patch of light, the engineer’s scruffy, blond hair cast shadows across his face that made him look like some ghoul from early-Earth mythology. He peered through the darkness, dark brown eyes searching, a frown fluttering on his face as he tried to identify the speaker, clutching the blanket tighter around himself.

"Tom?" he asked quietly in his lilting accent, taking a far-too-well-informed shot in the dark, his voice kept as low as possible so as not to wake any of the other inhabitants of the room.

A shadowed figure that James had missed in his first observation of the room leant forwards fractionally, his own features becoming clear enough to make out as he moved into a second slightly lighter area of the dark room. The tanned skin of Tom Rathenhope was probably the most defining thing about him; for someone that lived on a spaceship where the only source of light was artificial, sun-darkened skin was unusual. Tom never said why, James never asked.

"Who else would be up at this time?” Tom asked, a touch of amusement in his voice, green eyes sparkling as the light also revealed his work, lavishing attention on a collection of knives with a small whetstone, cloth and polish. “Other than you.”

James nodded slowly. It was true, Tom was the only person on the ship who hardly slept, needing only three hours in a forty-eight hour span; another question that James didn’t want to know the answer to. “I couldn’t sleep,” the engineer said with a small shrug, turning back towards the door.

"You were making a lot of noise," the gun-hand said almost conversationally, eyes down at the task in hand again, stopping James in his tracks once more.

He stiffened noticeably, his slender frame reaching its full height of five foot nine before answering softly without turning back towards the man. “Again?" It was no use denying it, Tom may not have been the sharpest tool in the box, but what he lacked in pure smarts he made up for in scarily perceptive observations.

"Yeah. Nightmares?" asked Tom quietly, a hint of concern in his voice, his tone gently probing for more, but already resigned to the fact that no answers would be forthcoming.

"Mm," was James's softly reluctant response, shaking his head to indicate that for the hundredth time that he was asked the question, he didn’t want to talk about it. He knew that Tom was aware of this, but night after night it was the same questions. Somehow, James didn’t find himself minding all that much. It was perhaps a gentle hint that someone genuinely cared.

Tom leaned back into the darkness, running the edge of a knife against the whetstone with a soft scraping sound. “I see.” And that was his only answer, the stocky man falling silent once more, leaving the engineer to his own thoughts.

James headed out of the crew quarters, the door sliding open silently as he approached and sliding shut again with its single-minded purpose as he left the range of its sensors. Entering the darkened corridor he turned to the right, heading for the large door at the end of it. This one didn't open as he approached it, instead waiting for his thumbprint on the pad beside it. It glowed blue for a brief second as he pressed his thumb against it, then green, and then the door slid open, the pad going dark again.

James stepped into the engine room, tapping twice on a pad on the opposite side of the door. The large door shut ponderously, and with a click it sealed itself. A large sigh of relief escaped the man as he finally relaxed, looking down at the plated floor.

The engineer stood there for several minutes, breathing slowly, before looking up at the cramped space that was the Pride's engine room. In the centre, and taking up most of the room was the monstrosity that allowed the ship to complete its voyages through space, cables and pipes and all manner of connections feeding into it. Around the outside were a number of supplementary pieces of equipment, most with connections to the engine, as well as a number of consoles.

Ignoring all of these, the young engineer headed towards the engine, ducking under a cable as he dropped onto his hands and knees to crawl through a small gap between pipes, being careful not to make contact with either of them as the heat of the engine's exhaust radiated from the conduits, enough to burn anyone stupid enough to ignore the heat to touch them.

Once through the gap he turned a little, heading under the engine. A little further in there was a sudden widening of space. Secreted in the space was a bedroll, a portable console and a pillow. James quickly stretched himself out on the roll, covering himself with the blanket and relaxing as the grumbling of the engine pervaded his bones. Reaching out for the console, he looked at its screen before tapping it several times. He read the resulting display that came up, then placed it to the side and out of the way, stretching his arms above his head as he lay on his front. Closing his eyes, he fell into a far more restful sleep than he'd woken from several minutes before.

* * *

This sleep was broken by three beeps coming in short succession. James’s eyes snapped open, his mind resisting the urge to sit up suddenly to stop him from smacking his head on the oddly silent engine above. He didn’t have time to wonder as to its cause as the beeps came again. He reached into his trousers and pulled out his communication device. Speaking into the comm-dev, he suppressed a yawn. "Teegan here."

The reply came almost instantaneously. "Teegan? Are you in the engine room with the door locked again?"

James recognised the voice of his captain, Michael Terrel. He responded shortly. "No one else can lock the door."

"Get out here," came the voice of the thirty-five year old, a hint of a laugh in his voice. “You know, one day you’ll have to tell me what you do in there by yourself.”

"On my way Captain," replied James, only adding a sullen “No I don’t,” once he'd switched the comm-dev off and began reversing his route out from his hidey-hole, blanket left behind, tucked away.

Outside the engine room, facing the door was the middle-aged captain of the Pride, six foot tall Michael Terrel. Long, wavy, light brown hair flowed from his scalp, past his shoulders, stopping only as it reached the small of his back. Standing next to him was a shorter and much younger man, two. In direct contrast to that of the captain’s, his black hair was cut short against his scalp,

The two men stood there in silence. The captain confidently, straight-spined, hands clasped behind his back. His pudgy features were set in an expression of amusement as he waited, grey eyes fixed thoughtfully on the door. The younger man next to him was far more nervous, fidgeting with his interlaced hands, youthful face and bright blue eyes displaying his anxiety.

There was a sudden click and then a groan as the door unlocked and slid open to reveal James, still wearing nothing but those grey trousers. David looked up from his fidgeting and blinked once, before looking up to Michael to follow his lead.

James just scowled at the younger man's reaction, but looked to his captain and straightened. "How can I be of assistance sir?"

The captain nodded, fixing James with a look. "This is David Ford, your new apprentice for a month. We just picked him up from Europa Station."

"I don't need an apprentice, I’ve told you that before," stated James before blinking, puzzled, at Michael. "Wait, we've already docked?"

"Your lack of need is a personal opinion that I don’t happen to agree with," retorted Michael, "so you're getting one anyway. And yes, we've docked. Didn’t notice the engine shutting down, mm?" He looked sideways to David, who was looking more and more nervous.

"How long have you had this planned?” James asked, his voice faintly accusing as well as seeking a change of subject.

“Oh, about two weeks,” smirked the Captain. “Considering what happened with your last apprentice I thought it wise to not warn you ahead of time.”

David started at that, frowning up at Michael. “Uh, sir? The last apprentice?”

James cut in quickly, shaking his head. “Nothing that you need to be concerned with. No one died and so it doesn’t matter.” James scowled again before continuing, "Since my gracious captain seems to have chosen to drop this on me, I guess I have no choice. Two rules, however. Number one, I work at odd hours and when I call you, you come. Number two," he continued, not pausing for confirmation. "This is my engine room. If I'm not in here, you don't come in. If I say out, you get out. If the door's locked and I haven't called you, bugger off. Understood?"

“That’s four rules,” grumbled the apprentice under his breath, though not quietly enough to stop him earning a glare from the engineer and an amused chuckle from the captain. “…I mean, yes. Understood.”

"Good move butt," nodded the engineer, slipping into his native language for a moment. "How old are you anyway? Sixteen, seventeen?"

"Eighteen," was the rather stubbornly offended response from David. For a second he forgot his nervousness and blustered, "What did you just call me?"

"Easy kid," grinned the captain standing next to him. "'Butt' is Welsh for 'mate'. Teegan here will ramble in it from time to time. Learn if you want, though no one will force you to."

"Oh," the new apprentice said quietly, blushing slightly as he asked the next question. “What’s Welsh then?”

The engineer still standing at the entrance to his domain just rolled his eyes at the two of them, turning around and beginning to head back inside. "It’s an ancient Earth language that the more refined of us speak. Now, if you want to become an engineer, get inside. I've got stuff to do, and then I'm going to pick up some parts from the station," he called out, not bothering to turn around as he stalked back into the room.

David hesitated, looking from James back to the captain beside him. Michael just nodded, pushing him forwards gently as he murmured quietly, "That's the most positive comment you'll get out of him. Don't expect approval."

The young apprentice gulped, and with one last look to the captain headed into the engine room slowly, dragging his feet as if afraid of the tasks that lay within. The captain just chuckled again, watching David go, and then turning himself to go back to the bridge and run the ship.

Once David was in, James tapped a panel, shutting the door behind him. David jumped at the noise of the closing door, turning to look at it with a rather worried expression.

"Don't look so scared, I'm not going to hurt you… Physically," said James with an uncharacteristically evil grin.

David just stood there in silence, so James shook his head and began gesturing at various consoles and other objects. "Tour of the engine room. Engine, tool kits, engine controls, manifold, flange, fuel pipes, exhaust pipes, power feeds. Don't touch any of it unless I tell you to, we clear?"

"Yes," the apprentice responded somewhat resentfully, his tone vocalising what his monosyllabic response had left out, whilst he was young he was far from stupid.

"Yes what?" asked James, staring at the younger man with an intensity that had it been a wrecking ball would have knocked walls down.

"Yes, sir," sighed David, walking to the middle of the room, arms by his sides and saying nothing.

James shook his head lightly, moving to a touch-screen console on the wall and began tapping away as he spoke, "How much do you know anyway?" he asked thoughtfully, voice distant.

The apprentice turned, looking at James with a slight confused look on his face, wondering at the man’s sudden behavioural shift. "Just what I learned from working on the odd ship that came into my father's hanger."

"Great, I get the green one," sighed James, continuing to tap at the screen and bringing up a command prompt. "Right, show me that you at least know how to run a status sweep from the underlying system." He moved backwards, vacating the console and gesturing to it with a hand.

David nodded, moving slowly over to the keyboard and typed cautiously into it. "Wait," James interrupted impatiently. "The diagnostic software is series two, not series one, that command is obsolete."

There was a pause, David seeming unsure of what to do. James sighed, bringing his arms across and over David to type the right command into the console. The apprentice blinked at the contact, but made no comment on it, eyes fixed on the screen as the engineer behind him typed. He left the command on the screen for several seconds before deleting it and handing control of the console over to David again. "That was the right command. Now use it."

Again David typed into the keyboard, this time a perfect replica of the command James typed. The engineer beside him nodded slightly, but said nothing. Taking this as a sign he was doing the right thing, David hit send. Immediately the display began filling up slowly with every single statistic about the engine.

"Analyse it, tell me if anything is wrong," said James, pointing at the screen. "The information in the brackets is the norm, if anything is outside of that, it's not right."

“Sir?” queried David. “Why are we using the command line and not a proper graphical interface?” The question was asked in earnest, the apprentice looking around to the more experienced engineer.

“Cost, and personal preference,” was the swift response from the engineer, already turning towards another task. “There’s nothing you can do in one of those that you can’t do here, but there’s a lot you can do here that you can’t do in an interface.”

David nodded, falling silent as he read the data. Seeing him concentrating on the task set to him, James picked up a spanner from the closest toolkit and headed for the manifold to give it a good check over. It was something that he knew he’d have to replace eventually and hopefully sooner rather than later; already the manifold was showing signs of wear and age, but money was as ever tight. Finally the apprentice made his way over to James, a slight smile on his face. "The engine is fine, sir," he said, adding the last word almost as an afterthought.

"I know," responded the engineer as he flipped the cover of the manifold off.

"You know?" frowned David, his voice betraying his own puzzlement at James’s declaration.

"Of course I do," said James, somewhat distractedly as he poked a finger into the manifold, retracting it to inspect the grease on it with curiosity. "I wouldn’t be a very good engineer if I didn’t.”

“I see…” David frowned in perhaps his most unconvincing statement yet. James gave him an exceptionally amused look at that, but added no comment. “Surely it’s dangerous working topless, and with no shoes on, sir. I mean, the engine can get rather hot, and there’s always bits and bobs on the floor,” the apprentice added after a moment’s silence, his tone obviously trying to start some sort of conversation.

“Probably,” James agreed lightly, a short nod offsetting his words. “If you’re embarrassed by it, you can just say.”

“Well, I mean, uh…” David stumbled, his cheeks colouring a little at the partial admission. Maybe the engineer wasn’t too bad after all.

“Wuss. Now go change the fuel filter.” Or maybe not. David sighed. That was one of the messiest jobs possible, and he knew that its assignment to him was no accident. It was going to be a long month.