Gen woke to the sound of water trickling on metal.
Where am I?
Panic surged through him. Had those men finally found him? No, he reasoned, those men had wanted him dead. His mind rapidly replayed memories of his desperate race through the space port, hiding in the cargo pod, and the sickening pain when he had lost his balance and fallen.
With some effort Gen opened his eyes, and he was shocked that he could see. He definitely wasn't in the cargo pod any more, or even the cargo hold—he was in a surprisingly comfortable bunk, under a sheet and coverlet.
He'd been found, but not by his pursuers.
Gen raised his arm and saw bandages and patches of plas-skin taped over gashes and burns, and when he peeked under the covers he found more of the same. Someone had taken a lot of time to tend to his injuries, and Gen could also feel the trace of pain meds lingering in his system.
He looked around. He was in a tiny space, perhaps seven feet wide and a little under twice that long, with a high, girdered ceiling and modular wall panels. Several of the panels were open, revealing storage areas filled with clothes, books, tools, and bags of snacks. It was obviously someone's quarters, and a glance at the other end of the space revealed the room's owner when he saw Gadget in the washroom, clad only in sleep-shorts, leaning over a sink while he brushed his teeth.
Gen shifted on the bunk, wincing when his blaster-scorched side pressed against the mattress. His movement caught Gadget's attention, and the kid looked over and gave him a foamy grin.
"Hey, you're awake!" Gadget spat into the sink, and then he ran a little more water to rinse his mouth. He grabbed a nearby towel and scrubbed at his face, and then he slung the towel around his neck, filled a small cup with water and padded, barefoot, over to the bunk. "How're you doing?"
He's no kid, Gen thought, as he got an eyeful of lean muscles moving under smooth, tanned skin. "Better, thanks," he said. "And… thanks for the patch-up."
"No problem! You're gonna look like shit for a few days, but nothing's broken, and I taped you up nice." Gadget reached over and tugged at a small panel on the wall, pulling out a small side-table. He set the cup on it, and then sat down on the edge of the bunk next to Gen. "Here, I'll help you sit up so you can drink some water."
Gen was thirsty, so he accepted the help, although he grimaced when he felt the plas-skin patches pulling at tender skin. He drank the water in small sips, and grunted his disappointment when Gadget took the cup and set it back on the tabletop.
"That's enough for now," Gadget said, and he helped settle Gen back against the pillows.
"Thanks," Gen said. He plucked at the threadbare coverlet. "This is your bunk, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Gadget replied, and then he rubbed a hand along the back of his head. "Shaw put you in with me since it's my fault you got on board, and besides, right now you need a bed more'n I do. For now I'm gonna just rig up a hammock over there." He jerked a thumb toward the opposite end of the tiny room. "Speaking of bed, I'll go ahead and set mine up, now that I don't hafta worry about disturbing you." He got up and retrieved a panel of freight containment webbing from a nearby drawer.
Gen watched him as he climbed up and secured the webbing to the ceiling grid with various ropes and clips. "You're like a goddamn monkey," he said.
Gadget laughed. "Shaw calls me that a lot. But I'm good at getting into a lot of places, and that means I can pack this ship until we can't take on any more weight." He tightened one of the clips and then hopped back down to the floor. Another cabinet yielded a cache of blankets, and Gadget tossed all but one of them up onto the webbing. "So, now that you're awake, I can ask—what's your name?"
Gen paused, wary of giving anything away to this unknown person. But Gadget's face was open and completely without cunning, so he relented and replied, "Gen."
"Hi, Gen." Gadget began to unfurl the blankets and spread them over the webbing. "Everybody calls me Gadget."
"What kind of stupid-ass name is 'Gadget'?" Gen had been wondering ever since he'd overheard them while he was in the pod.
Gadget smiled, clearly unoffended at the question, and a slim shoulder lifted in a shrug. "I grew up in the alleyways of Bel'een, and if I had a name I don't remember it. There was this old man who ran a fix-it shop, and I used to take broken stuff out of his trash, fix it and sell it for food. One day he caught me, and he ended up giving me a job fixing the things he couldn't. He was the one who started calling me Gadget. It stuck, I guess."
Gen had heard of Bel'een; the city took up most of its planet, and was known as much for its slums as for its bustling trade ports. It said something about Gadget's skill that he had made it out of those alleyways.
Gadget tossed the 'pillow' onto his makeshift hammock, and then as he walked back over to the bunk he checked his wristpad. "Time to change the plas-skin and put more biogel on those wounds of yours. It must have hurt like a bitch when you took that blaster hit," he said as he reached for the medikit.
"It did," Gen said. "Still does—ow!" He cursed when Gadget pulled away the flexible, milky-white sheet that covered his side from the bottom of his ribs to just above his hipbone.
"Sorry," Gadget said, "but I'm gonna have to do this every couple of hours. You don't want it to get infected, and using the plas-skin will help it heal real fast. When I'm done I'll give you another shot of the pain meds."
Gen grit his teeth while Gadget worked on him, and in an effort to distract himself he focused his gaze on Gadget's face. It was more of a cute face than a handsome one, framed with spiky, chestnut-brown hair. Up this close, it was more obvious that Gadget was in his early twenties, and probably only a few years younger than Gen. He was the type who would probably look boyish into his thirties, and Gen figured that looking that youthful was a curse at times.
He had his own curse, one of golden blond hair and delicate features, and being called 'pretty'.
Gen was studying the smattering of freckles across Gadget's nose when Gadget glanced up at him and smiled. Gen looked away and decided to watch Gadget's hands instead.
"There, all set!" Gadget fished in the medikit for the transdermal pen, and he twisted it to dial in the next dose. "I've put a sedative in this as well as a painkiller and antibac. At this point, sleep is your friend." He pressed the pen's wide tip against Gen's upper arm.
It stung, but Gen welcomed the numbing rush of the painkiller. Gadget let him have a little more water, and then with Gadget's help he settled back under the covers. Shit works fast, he thought, when keeping his eyes open became a real effort.
Gadget walked over to the room's hatch, and then he paused, his hand hovering over the light controls. "You good for the night? Need anything else?"
"I'm good, thanks," Gen replied.
"All righty, then—lights out." Gadget pulled down the slider, and the room was plunged into darkness.
Not quite dark… Gen realized there was a faint blue glow above the hatch. "Is that blue light on all the time?" he asked.
"Absolutely." The webbing straps creaked as Gadget climbed onto his hammock. "Have you every been in total darkness?" He snorted. "Yeah, you have, haven't you? It's freaky as hell, right? Besides, the light makes it easier to take a piss in the middle of the night."
Reminded of his short stint in the storage pod, Gen had to agree with Gadget. "Is it really night, though?"
"For us, it is. When you travel on a ship like this for long stretches, you gotta keep a routine. All of the main living areas have programmed lighting for Standard time." More creaks as Gadget settled into his makeshift bed. "This hammock isn't too bad," he said. "Good night, Gen."
"Good night—hey wait, you're not even going to ask me why I stowed away on the ship?"
Gadget yawned loudly. "Nah. Shaw's gonna be all over your ass in the morning, so there's no point in making you tell your story twice."