Salvage and Reclamation

By Abigail Falanga

Deep in space, by the time a distress signal reaches you, it’s usually too late to do anything about it.

Unless you’re in the scrap business.

Barely enough remained of the starship to make it valuable. It had been so badly damaged that Abby couldn’t tell what it was. It might have been anything from a cargo vessel to a battle cruiser. Now, it was past whatever purpose it had been meant for.

Abby brought her junker ship into alignment with what was left of the docking hatch and extended the four massive claw-arms to lock it in place. There was a jolt, which set the cross she’d hung above the controls swinging. Then she cut the engines and all was still.

She took mild pride in her ship, The Scavenger. It had been little more than a heavy-duty asteroid miner when she’d found it, but with modifications and additions from the derelicts she salvaged, it now had an excellent FTL drive, force fields that could extend more than seventy-five meters, and enough extensions to haul a good-sized cargo.

“So, let’s see what this thing’s got to offer,” she said to herself, securing her helmet and cape and checking the life-support system.

It was lonely work, picking up junk from the skirmishes, raids, and murmurs of war in these lonely reaches of space, and it didn’t pay too well. But ever since the Invasion and the wars had scattered so many from Earth, you took jobs where you found them.

Abby leapt from her hatch to the derelict’s, her brown-and-gold cape lifting in the vacuum. Passing the port’s blown-out shields, she made her way into dark and broken corridors, around gaping holes in the outer hull which did nothing to quell the electrical fires. Clearly, this damage was the result of heavy energy-weapon bombardment. Losing side. Abby ran a scan and could detect only minimal weaponry installed on the ship—it had been a sitting duck. Or… floating duck?

And, whatever the attackers wanted, they had clearly already taken before they left. There wasn’t much valuable left, except as scrap. Nonetheless, she attached and activated the official beacon to establish her claim on it:

“Salvage and Reclamation Rights Accorded to The Scavenger Vessel and Captain, Under the Atormovar Accords.”

She could have returned to her ship and begun pulling this thing apart. But instead, she continued exploring. After all, she needed to stretch her legs. It had been ten days since the last space station drop, long enough that the cockpit and living quarters of her ship had begun to feel cramped. Ironic, being out in so much space, with so little room to move around.

Controls and bridge up and to the left, almost completely disintegrated. Engines down several long and cavernous shafts too dangerous to investigate. Cargo hold, shipping containers gone and crates rifled open. Cabins. Bunks. Broken and thrown aside furniture…

Oh, God… It was a colony ship.

Then came the bodies.

They were hardly visible in the dark and ruin. Mostly scattered in a central communal room. Dead several days.

Abby hurried past, without counting, without looking too close. She would leave this section of the ship, jettison it into space and spend some fuel burning it. The best she could do…

Was that movement?

She slipped down into a lower room, half-lit by still-functional fission lamps. More movement—something under a broken rack of shelves and lockers.

Rats?

No. This was too big, and too blue.

She crept forward, then bent and moved aside a fallen crate. Behind it was a small girl with pale-blue skin, eyes wide. She shrank back.

Abby dropped to her knees, checked the air for breathability, and removed her helmet. “I won’t hurt you! My name is Abby. What’s yours?”

“Leeta,” the girl whispered.

“Leeta. How long have you been hiding?”

“Since the attack started.”

“A few days, then. You must be very hungry. Would you like to come back to my ship? I have food.”

Leeta was shaking hard, but she met Abby’s gaze. Abby reached in and put a hand on her arm until the shivers calmed. Then at last, the girl nodded and squirmed out. “What are you, Abby? You’re not one of our colony. Are you a captain?”

“Something like that.” Abby put her helmet on again and led her back down the corridor.

Clunk. Scrape…

Something—someone—else was on this ship. Close.

“I’m a scavenger. Removing all the messes and rubbish cluttering up space.”

“Why?”

She covered Leeta’s eyes as they went through the communal room. “Even things like vultures, rats, worms, and bacteria help clean up death and decay. That’s why God put them in the universe.”

They avoided a breach which cut a jagged disruption across an access catwalk. Abby slipped her cape around Leeta to extend life-support to her.

Shuffle. Clank.

It was following, on a higher level but getting closer.

They reached a large junction, more stable though blocked by wreckage.

“I do more than carrion-creatures,” Abby continued, loud enough so that whatever it was could hear. “I find old, lost, broken, lonely things.” They stopped. “And I make them whole again or bring them to people who will put them to good use.”

Screech. Crash!

They turned.

“So even things that have been cast aside as useless can find new purpose and value again.” She looked around. “Restored, redone, made new.”

A man stood there, youngish, dark-haired, pale-skinned. Layers of protective armor and bloodstained clothing labeled him one of the attackers. But his arm-mounted cannon was lowered, and tears were in his eyes.

“They left you for dead, didn’t they?” Abby said.

“There was fighting.” The man’s voice was thick and creaky with disuse. “Got separated. Explosion.”

“I can help you.”

“Lost, broken things?”

“Times of restoration.” Abby smiled.

“But,” he choked. “The girl. Her family. I—”

“Don’t worry.” She stretched out a hand to him. “I’m in the business of salvage and reclamation.”

The gun clattered to the ground.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Abigail Falanga may be found in New Mexico creating magic in many ways – with fabric, food, paper, music, and especially with words! She’s loved fantasy ever since playing out epic adventures of swords, fairies, and monsters with her siblings, and loved sci-fi since her dad’s stories around the dinner table. Besides sharing mad little stories on Havok, she is busily trying to launch approximately five hundred novels into the world. Some of them are even finished!

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