This was way worse than the aetheric rotor engine. At least that had gears, which kinda make sense. This was all chemical tubing and electrical wires, about which I knew a resounding bupkis. Okay, actually I knew a teeny tiny bit of electronics, but in the face of real mechanical repair work―bupkis.
Remmy, on the other hand, knew exactly what she was doing. Before her pigtails settled, she had her goggles on, and a pair of skinny pliers and a voltmeter out. Leaning into the mess, she poked it with the voltmeter. The pliers pulled wires apart, only to be returned to a pocket and exchanged for her massive wrench. Unscrewing some nuts, she held them out to me. “Here.”
I caught them in both hands. At least I could do something! Penelope Akk, interplanetary holder of spare parts.
Remmy brushed back her pigtails with the wrench, getting a streak of oil on them, and pried a lid off a box I hadn’t even noticed wasn’t a pipe like everything else. An ominous puff of black dust drifted out. She sighed. “No mysteries here. The temperature control arm burned out. Do we have a replacement?”
Her older brother met her demanding stare with a shrug. “Get it through your head, Remington. You’re the only mechanic we’ve got left.”
Remmy slumped her shoulders, rolled her eyes, and rocked her head backwards. Oh, and she growled, you know, in case Thompson hadn’t gotten the point. “It’ll take hours to find one. Days. I’m not sure I’d know how to install it anyway. I mean, plugging something else in, that would be easy. I could kludge a robot arm― whoah, whoah, whoah!” Thompson was already turning to jump off the machine, but paused while Remmy pointed at the box and said, “Remove the old control arm first! Not yet; not yet!” The pliers came back out, and she yanked a few wires loose. “Now.”
Her brother reached his gorilla arms into the maze of metal tubing, grabbed the thick pipe she’d indicated, and pulled. Metal shrieked and cracked, and the pipe broke free, proving that it was actually a solid bar. He tossed it over his shoulder into the factory shadows.
“Okay, bring me a spare robot. A broken one would be fine. I’m only using the top half,” Remmy instructed.
Her brother jumped down, and I made a note of another use of being able to fly―unlike us, he could fall at a decent speed in low gravity, and run as well. Despite Remmy’s fastidious and efficient instructions, he grabbed the first robot passing by, lifted it up over his head in both hands, and seconds later jumped up to slam it onto the top of the tank next to his little sister.
“Hold still. Your previous orders are canceled,” she told it. Out came the wrench, and she pried open the back of the robot’s boxy body. I was treated to a mass of cogs, wiring, pistons, axles, and motors such as would grace the engine of the finest modern sports car. While I’d watched her brother, Remmy had wrapped her hands up in bandages again. She poked and prodded with her voltmeter, unfastening wires and tying new ones together. When that had been accomplished to her satisfaction, she leaned into the guts of the bioresin distiller, guiding the robot’s arm.
Her voice rang out from inside. “I can’t connect this. Give it a push.” Chief Fawkes grabbed the robot’s arm in both hands, and shoved. A loud, metallic clonk exited the machine, followed closely by Remmy. “Okay,” she said to the robot, “Your job from now on is to stand here and not fall off.”
“I’ll make that easy.” Thompson took the robot’s other arm, and grunting with effort, bent it into a spiral, wrapping it around another pipe.
Remmy pulled her pigtails out of the guts of the distiller, leaned her head back, and yelled, “Okay, Zayde! Reactivate the boiler!”
The distiller rattled. The robot’s bent elbow straightened abruptly, pushing farther into the hole brother and sister Fawkes had created for it. A few seconds later came the knock, knock, knock of heating metal.
Remmy pumped her fist. “Yes!” Letting out a sigh, she waved her wrench up at Thompson. “It’s ugly, but performance should be the same as the original control arm. You need a mechanic, big brother. A real one.”
That was my cue. “I’d say he’s got a real mechanic.”
That stopped Remmy cold. Her mouth hung open as she stared at me, although her goggles hid the rest of her expression. Suddenly she gave me a small, awkward grin, and whacked the robot’s shoulder with her wrench. “Yeah, well, Io Omega’s going to look mighty weird if all the regular parts get replaced with kludges like this.”
Motion caught my eye. My friends of course were interested. Above me, Claire leaned over the railing, and Ray went one further by clinging like a spider upside down to the column of pipes. It was his creeping up towards us that I’d noticed. Somehow, his hat stayed on.
Suppressing a smirk, I returned my attention to Remmy. “It’s a lot of fun getting to watch another mad scientist at work. When I use my power, I never know what I’m doing. Half the time I don’t remember anything. I wish it was as relaxed and controlled as yours.”
She stood up a little straighter, a bit of pride tugging at the edges of her halfhearted smile. “I dunno. All the other mechanics get a feel for the inventions our great-great-whatever grandparents used to found the colonies. It’s like they’re that smart. Dad’s power went even further. He built all kinds of new stuff. I just see how different machines could fit together. I’ve tried to study how things work the hard way, but mostly I have to fake repairs with a jury-rig. Like this one.”
She gave the robot another whack.
Dutifully, its metallic monotone said, “Ow.”
I giggled.
“If you’re going to yakk, do it where people can stand upright,” Thompson scolded his sister. He wrapped the base of her pigtails around his fist. I winced at the very thought of being carried around like that, and shrank back in case he reached for me.
My knight in jet black wool rescued me. Ray swung down off the pipes above, and scooped his arm underneath me so I could sit on it. “Transporting this one is my responsibility,” he told Chief Fawkes with an absolutely straight face. He jumped, and as we rose past the catwalk, grabbed the rail, spun around, and deposited me lightly onto my feet.
Seconds later, Remmy’s brother dropped her next to me the same way, only he really had dragged her up by the pigtails. She didn’t look pained. Maybe with the reduced gravity it hadn’t been that bad. I had no intention of finding out first hand.
“Uh…,” I said cogently, my sense of the conversation destroyed.
Claire took over. Leaning, not quite sitting on the rail, she asked, “What do you make your plastic out of? I doubt you have petroleum out here on Jupiter’s moons.”
“Fish.” Shimon leaned back in his chair but with his eyes still on the control panel. “My wife Milla invented the process when we found out the Rotors were fishing Europa’s oceans. She was still Milla Hofmann, then. Just another super-scientist fleeing the war.”
Claire nibbled on her lower lip. “So, this place is really a big refinery?”
Remmy’s smile widened and widened, increasingly smug. “The Jets make everything. We smelt the iron, turn it into steel, build most of the parts, hunt the fish, gather the sea taters―I don’t know how the Rotors even got by before the Jets arrived.”
Shimon let out a sigh, his voice straying into ‘old man rasp’ territory. “Not well. Both groups were good for each other.”
Chief Fawkes sneered, bunching up his fists. “Not that those ungrateful aristos even admit they need us.”
Remmy laid her hand, wrench and all, on his arm. “You know it’s the automatons. How do you expect people to act when they’re afraid to even say they’re trading with us?”
I felt odd, like something was scurrying around in the back of my head. No more Puppeteer tech, superpower. Never ever ever. In fact, no biotech, period.
The feeling didn’t go away, but it didn’t turn into an idea, either. I’d have to let my brain do its thing until I figured out what that thing was.
Remmy’s great-grandfather and brother had said something while I zoned out, but of cours
e I’d missed it. I came back to see her waving her wrench up at Thompson’s face and barking, “That’s insane. Repairing Io Alpha might take the rest of my life!”
Chief Fawkes’ hand darted up, grabbing the wrench handle. Brotherly tolerance faded into a threatening glower. “Then it will take the rest of your life. I won’t let the Jets die out. We’re taking back what is ours.”
“Okay, okay! Don’t bend it!” Remmy squeaked. Her brother let go, and she cradled the wrench to her chest, running her fingers over it to check for dents left by his super-strong fingers.
“I’ll get more of our mechanics back from the Rotors to help you. Get a good night’s sleep, and we’ll start in the morning.”
Their great-grandfather snorted. Everyone looked at him. He smirked defiantly. “These Earth children and I are the only people who have even seen a real night, but still we use that phrase. It makes me laugh every time I hear it.”
That softened Thompson’s expression. He patted Remmy’s head. “Look, I can be reasonable. You don’t have to work every waking moment. Take your new friends out chemical gathering before you go to bed.”
“Perfection! HA HA HA HA HA!!”
My chest ached. I doubled over, wheezing. I would have fallen if Ray wasn’t already holding me in his arms. I had what looked and felt like a man-sized blue balloon in my fist, and I’d been waving it about.
The back of my head throbbed. Was I actually getting less control of my superpower over time?
Next step: stop ranting; assess current circumstances. We were somewhere else, on what looked like the factory floor. Shimon was nowhere in sight. Remmy and Chief Fawkes were. A nervous, resentful scowl pulled her face tight. He just looked stunned.
Claire perched on a nearby workbench with her legs crossed and a lazy, amused smile. All around her lay the wreckage of discarded tools, chemicals, and beakers, as well as see-through plastic globes and more blue balloons.
Criminy, my chest ached. I must have laughed so hard and so long, I’d started choking. I gave Ray a weak smile, and bumped him on the chest with my fist. “Thank you, minion. Keep serving me this well, and I might reward you with a date when we get back to Earth. You’ll have to keep secret that I have no idea what I just made.”
“Isn’t it obvious? They’re spacesuits!” Claire said, her voice teasing and whimsical. She lifted one up. Yep, it had sleeves for arms and legs. Gloves and boots came included.
Sliding out of Ray’s arms, I tested my feet. I felt lightheaded, but on Io, I didn’t have much choice about that. Claire hopped off the table, floating down in a swirl of petticoats. Picking up two of the suits, she held one under her chin to show it was her height, and held out another towards Ray. “There are four. One for each of us.” Ray walked up next to her, and… yes, it stretched neatly from the soles of his shoes to his throat.
“Four?” I was still a bit muddled.
“Either you were feeling generous, or your superpower believes Remmy is one of us.” Claire picked up the last suit and let it hang. The suit was… not tall. It also wasn’t quite as baggy as the rest of ours. So, pillow case instead of garbage bag.
Remmy shrunk back behind her huge older brother, using him as a shield. “I’m not wearing anything that your power came up with.”
“Remington!” Chief Fawkes boomed, his angry voice bouncing off the walls. Reaching behind his back, he grabbed her pigtails and hauled her out in front of him. Making her face us, he lectured, “You are not going to refuse a gift this useful.”
She flailed her arms about, and tried to twist her eyes up to meet his. “It could be a Puppeteer suit!”
“Don’t be stupid.” He gave her head a shake by the pigtails. Remmy’s eyes screwed up in pain, and I grimaced just in sympathy. Ray frowned, tensing up in anger.
“Fine, fine,” Remmy grumbled. He gave her a push, and let go. She stumbled out of his grip, rubbing her arm as she stared at my shoes. With the reluctant growl of someone admitting the truth, she said, “I’m sorry. Those control spiders you made scared me.”
I held up both of my hands. “You don’t have to apologize. They scared me. I don’t want to mess with that red gunk ever again.”
Claire slid forward. Her frictionless shoes were perfect for Io, where you had to skate forward when you walked to avoid leaping at the ceiling anyway. Jiggling her suit, she gave Chief Fawkes a sweet smile. “Do you have any changing rooms? We should try these on, and from the material and shape, I believe these are meant to be worn with nothing underneath.”
The sly amusement with which she said that sent me immediately blushing. Tesla’s Pigeons, Claire, do you have to be worse than Ray?
Yes, of course she did. She was a Lutra. In fact, from the quick glance in my direction, she was teasing me specifically.
Thompson pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “We have a million storage closets. Help yourselves.”
Trying to radiate silent dignity, which I wasn’t sure how to actually do, I took my spacesuit, grabbed a globe helmet, and headed for the line of doors along the wall. I opened the nearest, and… broom closet. Complete with brooms, and a hanging chain I tugged to turn on an incandescent light.
Eh. It would work. I shut myself inside and changed from my villainous jumpsuit into the rubbery blue spacesuit. I seriously doubted Claire’s prediction about how it should be worn. Clothes wouldn’t make a difference when the suit was as shapeless as a potato sack.
The front had a funny zipper fastener that you squeezed together, like a sandwich bag. I squeezed it shut-
-and squeaked as the suit collapsed, strangling me. I almost banged on the closet door in alarm, but my panting breaths proved it wasn’t really crushing the breath out of me. The suit just felt that tight, uncomfortably so, like a full-body corset. This thing was not my superpower’s finest moment.
Lowering the fishbowl over my head, I squeezed it into the collar. That snapped shut as well, creating a seal between rubbery suit and plasticky globe.
Breathe slowly, Penelope. Watch out for dizziness. Was I going to asphyxiate in this thing?
The air in the helmet remained cool. It didn’t even smell like my breath. I could just faintly maybe possibly feel a breeze.
Okay, power, you scored on utility. I still didn’t like wearing this thing. I’d always thought the body stocking look for superheroines was stupid. If it felt like this, why would anyone put themselves through it?
I folded up my jumpsuit, but transferred my belt and its pouches to the spacesuit. Leave behind Vera and my two remaining cursed pennies? Forget it.
Feeling pathetically clumsy with my whole body squeezed, I shambled out of the closet. Naturally, I was the last. Claire wore her suit with perfect poise. Ray had been forced to take off his hat and mask, and he looked… well, good. At least Remmy had the same awkward, gangly stance I did. She might even have it worse than me. My braids piled up in the dome behind my neck. Remmy had been forced to use her hair ties to pin hers in loops.
I took hold of my helmet, and with enough twisting and wrenching managed to pop it off. “Three out of five tops, but better than one of those old-fashioned diving suits they wear out here.”
Ray snapped his helmet off easily, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he eyed me. He said nothing. The expression faded to a deliberate neutrality.
Suddenly, I felt a lot better about everything. It was another reminder that I could trust him to care about my feelings and be faithful to his promises.
A twinge of homesickness followed that. I’d had enough of space. My life was at home, school and all. Relationship and all.
I wasn’t leaving yet. Tucking my helmet under my arm, I turned to Remmy. “When you go up to start repairs tomorrow, I’m going with you.”
“Why?”
I sighed, letting my shoulders sag. “Because I’ve been making a mess of this since the moment we left Earth. Before, starting with the decision to leave. There’s no point to being a supervillain if there aren’t any superh
eroes. People get hurt. I want to do something good for the people of Jupiter, and then go home. I need to know when I do that I at least left you a little better off for my visit.”
Remmy nodded, expressionless. Claire walked past her, her spacesuit soles sticking to the floor so she could take real steps. Enfolding me in her arms, she gave me a tug even tighter than the spacesuit. “You know why I let you take the lead all the time, Bad Penny? This is why. I never thought about this except as a selfish joyride.”
I had a face full of white-gold hair, but I knew Ray’s hand when it took mine and squeezed. I hadn’t really paid much attention to them, either, until now. I’d been too busy sightseeing.
“I guess it’ll be good to have your help. Your power is pretty good,” Remmy conceded, helmet off and rubbing the back of her head.
“Good? Do those things work?” Chief Fawkes asked in disbelief.
Remmy nodded. “Oxygen supply and everything. And insulation.”
He shook his head, his expression stunned. “That’s better than good. The founders couldn’t have made this. Yes, we’ll take your help.”
Remmy pouted suddenly, folded her arms over her plastic fishbowl helmet, and asked in a loud, sharp voice, “So, are we going to go show them how we do things on Io, or what?”
ive minutes later, tops, we were waiting in a ship boarding room that looked identical to the one we’d arrived by. Couldn’t be, though. Wrong place. Chief Fawkes pulled levers, and out in the hangar, ships swung past each other, moved by brobdingnagian motors whose electrical consumption only made sense if you lived on a moon tortured by Jupiter’s awesome mass and had lightning coming out of your ears.
The correct ship rotated up in front of us, and Remmy pulled a heavy switch on the wall, extending the boarding tube. When it snapped into place outside, she turned a crank a few times and opened the hatch.
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