project has a separate crew assigned to it,” said Tam, “and they’ll stay focused on that one project from beginning to completion. We find it’s the most efficient use of our workers.”
Her gaze settled on Dataran again. “And you will be on our crew?”
There was a tinge of color in his cheeks, Mech6.0 noticed. Perhaps it was warmer than usual in the hangar, although she didn’t come equipped with atmospheric temperature gauges to tell for sure. “Yes, Ochida-mèi,” he stammered. “I’ll be your engineer. I’ll be the one … pleasing … er…” His flush deepened.
“You can call me Miko,” she said with a friendly smile. “I know a little about mechanics myself, but perhaps I’ll learn something new from you during this process.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out.
“Why don’t we get these androids started on some of the exterior dismantling,” said Tam, “and Dataran, perhaps you could give Ochida-mèi a tour of the shipyard while we sign off on some papers?”
“O-of course,” he said, fumbling to replace the portscreen on his belt. He dislodged a small, shiny chain, which he quickly tucked back into his pocket. “If you would like that?”
“I would, very much.” As her father nudged her forward, Miko reached for the back of her neck to adjust the hair that was bundled there, and Mech6.0’s sensor picked up on something small and dark that suggested an abnormality—a birthmark, perhaps, or a tattoo?
As her processor received its first set of instructions, Mech6.0 claimed a spot near the front of the ship, where she could back out screws while keeping her sensor turned toward the bustling hangar. She watched as Dataran pointed out the various machinery and ship models and tried to guess what he might be telling Ochida Miko about. The purpose of the different tools? The history of the ships? How they had the most efficient system of android labor in any shipyard in the Commonwealth?
She saw him introducing the girl to different mechanics and engineers who they passed.
For a while, they disappeared into the almost-completed WindWalker800, and Mech6.0 could only catch glimpses of them through the cockpit windows. She noticed they were both smiling.
Dataran took Miko through parts storage, the painting room, even past the android charging docks, and while Mech6.0 couldn’t hear them, she frequently recognized the dimples of his laughter and noticed how his gazes grew more daring, settling on the girl with increased frequency, just as her gazes settled on him.
By the time Dataran was opening the gate and ushering Miko up onto the platforms that hung suspended over the water supply and refueling tanks, Mech6.0 realized that she had stopped working.
She turned her sensor toward the ship’s paneling that had only two screws still fastening it to the hull, then glanced at her brethren beside her. They all had at least three panels already taken down.
This was very odd. Not only her strange fascination with the humans, but that it could overpower her need to complete her task. Perhaps something really was wrong with her.
Yes, she would have to check in with maintenance after this shift.
Then, as she was removing her first panel, someone yelled. Mech6.0 turned in time to see one of the enormous cranes tilt beneath a too-heavy load, its outstretched arm swaying dangerously for a moment that stretched out for ages before it found the tipping point. The enormous metal arm fell toward the suspended platforms, bolts snapping and cables whipping into the air.
Still on the hanging walkway, Miko screamed.
Dataran pushed her out of the way.
The arm of the crane cracked against his head, the sound reverberating right into Mech6.0’s hard plastic shell. He was unconscious before his body fell into the oil vat below.
Miko screamed again, clinging to the walkway railing. The crane landed hard, and one of the cables flew loose from the ceiling. The platform careened to one side, but the remaining cables held.
Mech6.0 did not take the time to process the situation or calculate the best course of action—she was already rolling toward the containers. Around her, people yelled and machinery screeched and halted, footsteps thundered and the rickety walkway trembled overhead. Someone called for a ladder or a rope, but Mech6.0 already had her magnets activated to collect the panel screws, and with single-minded precision, she found herself climbing the side of the enormous tank, her grippers spread out against its metal sides, heaving her body upward. It was an awkward climb, one her body was not made for,