Trepidation: Act 1

Chapter 1

       Avery sat on his bed with an annoyed expression as he struggled with the leather of his work boot. The ship was out in the middle of nowhere for a vast majority of the time, given its assigned duty: the deconstruction of a space station on the very edge of the Habitable Zone. As such, the boy's worn out shoes had to be physically repaired with a glue-like goop to stop them from falling apart.

It was rather embarrassing, especially as most of the other crew got their own boots replaced weeks ago... But as a newer crew member comparatively, Avery was stuck with his original pair. Eventually he managed to get the substance applied, allowing him to stand as it adhered almost immediately. He couldn't afford to be late again, so he wasn't exactly clambering at the prospect of showing up at the fabrication chamber at a delay because, quote, "he wasn't taking care of his uniform."

With a sigh, he tossed the half empty tube of adhesive aside onto his bed while standing up. He quickly left the dormitory while sliding his jacket over his body, the classic logo of the CSS Groundskeeper adorned the back. The actual logo of the vessel adorned on the jacket was of a shovel crossing over a tombstone.

      The curly-haired crewmember approached a metal sliding door leading into the processing wing of the vaguely squid-shaped spacecraft. As he reached towards the panel and grasped the bulky lever to open the door, he heard a voice behind him.

"Hey, Avery! Late again?" - called one of his co-workers, Willon, a young blonde man. Willon was one of the few men on board Avery found himself delighted to interact with. Sure, he talked an almost annoying amount, but he was friendly to just about everybody, and Avery was no exception; in fact, Willon seemed to like the quiet laborer the most.

The aforementioned laborer turned towards him and shook his head. No, not yet he wasn't. He pulled the lever, causing a loud hiss followed by a metal clunk to be heard as a result of the door sliding down. He stepped quickly before the door slammed shut with a hiss a few seconds later.

"Hah! Lucky for you. Bossman's shit talking you constantly, dude. Always- uh," he paused before putting on an exaggerated voice.

"That damned Wells has the work ethic of a Horizon servant."

Avery rolled his eyes. That's about how most people on board saw him, anyway.

"It's whatever, though. The fuck is he gonna do, fire you? We don't go back to properly settled space for another month. That's still some Naval in your pocket!"

The boy just nodded along as the duo walked down the dark, metal hallway. The sound of a buzzing timer went off behind them, prompting the metal door to slide closed; slower than when it opened, but still quick enough to hurt someone if they weren't paying attention.

"Anyways, uh, Father Hoff's been acting weird lately. More than usual, I mean. I'm not religious or anything so he's always weird, heh."

Avery looked at him inquisitively, expecting him to elaborate. Willon seemed to get the hint when he looked towards Wells, finally looking up from his clunky personal data assistant tablet.

"He's been fucking up his room, dude. Executor runes and all that shit just painted on the walls; apparently that's 'normal enough' for some Executor priests, but he's being all creepy, especially around Scarlet. I dunno the details, though, but I'm kinda sick of his ass. He doesn't do anything but complain and go on about his stupid church, and-"

      Avery pressed a finger against his own lips as they approached the fabrication room and heard a shouting from inside. Before either could process what was being said, a middle aged woman pushed the swinging metallic door open, nearly hitting Avery as she stormed out of the room with a distraught expression on her face. Avery looked towards Willon, who patted him on the back before quickly moving down the hallway. With a small noise that superficially resembled a sigh, the boy walked into the fabrication room.

"There you are, Wells. I'm glad to see you," said his supervisor, an older white man with graying hair.

That's a first.

"We're falling behind schedule. The rest of the paneling from the space station has to be deconstructed and packed into containers- forget the framing, we'll worry about it later. I need all of these panels broken down by the time I get back," explained Avery's boss before rather rudely walking past him and leaving the room without so much as a pointer, expecting the young man to figure it out given his experience. It'd make Avery feel good that his foreman trusted him for once if it wasn't for the fact that he'd grown to loathe this job. He'd yet to convince himself it was better than making coffee on Nar.