Page 12 of Pact with the Alien Devil

“How bad is it?” Korvan asked, leaning over my shoulder to examine the readouts.

“Bad enough,” I replied, unbuckling my harness. “If we don’t fix it, we won’t make it to the outpost. I need to get into the maintenance bay.”

Korvan followed me through the ship to the small access hatch near the engine room. I keyed in the code and the panel slid open, revealing a cramped space filled with pipes, wires, and control units.

I pulled a tool belt from a nearby hook and strapped it around my waist. “I need to get in there and replace the faulty regulator. It’ll be tight.”

“You need assistance,” Korvan stated.

“I need you to stay out of my way,” I countered. “This is delicate work, and I don’t need your massive hands breaking something else.”

“I’ve worked on ship systems before.”

“Not on my ship.” I pulled myself up through the hatch and into the maintenance crawlspace.

The space was designed for someone smaller than me, let alone someone Korvan’s size. I crawled forward on my elbows, tools clinking against my side, until I reached the cooling unit access panel.

I pulled a screwdriver from my belt and began removing the panel, only to curse as one of the screws, stripped from age, refused to budge.

“Everything alright in there?” Korvan called from below.

“Fine,” I grunted, applying more force. The screw twisted suddenly, slicing my finger. “Son of a?—”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. Just a cut.” I sucked the blood from my fingertip and continued working.

The panel finally came loose, revealing the coolant regulator—a small device about the size of my palm, clearly corroded around the edges.

“I found the problem,” I called out. “Regulator’s shot. Pass me the replacement from the toolbox.”

There was a moment of silence, then Korvan’s voice. “Which one?”

I sighed. “Silver cylinder, green connection ports, about this big.” I held my hands apart, before realizing he couldn’t see me. “Just grab the toolbox and hand it up.”

The heavy toolbox appeared in the hatchway. I reached for it, but miscalculated the weight. It slipped in my grasp, and I scrambled to catch it before it crushed my fingers.

Suddenly Korvan was there, his large frame somehow squeezed partway into the maintenance bay, his hand supporting the weight of the box.

“I said I’d help,” he reminded me.

“I don’t need?—”

“Pride gets people killed, Iria.” He pushed the box toward me. “Take it.”

Our fingers brushed as I took the toolbox, and an unexpected jolt shot up my arm. I jerked back, nearly banging my head on a pipe.

“The replacement regulator is in the second drawer,” I said, ignoring whatever that reaction had been.

I found the part and set to work removing the old regulator. The close quarters made the job difficult, sweat beading on my forehead as I contorted to reach the connection points.

“You do this often?” Korvan asked, still hovering nearby.

“Often enough.” I twisted a stubborn fitting. “TheStarfall’sbeen flying for thirty years. Pretty much everything needs replacing sooner or later.”

The old regulator finally came free. I tossed it aside and began installing the new one, but the primary connection bolt wouldn’t align properly in the cramped space.

“Hold this steady,” I said reluctantly, gesturing Korvan closer.

---