“Make your choices kid, don’t have all day here.”

  “I’m working on it,” Heath bit out. It was just the most important decision he’d ever made. Not enough of a reason to take his time according to the Shipwright. Who Heath was sure did have all day, and was just being difficult for the fun of it. “Can you give me a minute, and I'll shout when I’m ready?”

  “Whatever. Don’t take too long.” Loud stomps accompanied the sleazy man’s departure. Good riddance. If they had any other choice, the odious man would never step foot on the Loon again.

  “He’s gone,” the Loon said.

  Heath allowed his shoulders to slump as he leaned back against the wall of the closet housing the Core matrix.

  “What do you think? It’s your body that’s getting changed.”

  “I…do not know. The idea of removing any of the crystals is anathema to my very being.”

  Wincing at the straightforward declaration, Heath approached the question from a different angle. “What do we absolutely need to keep no matter what?”

  He kept going, answering his own question. “We’d want all the crew spaces or else no one will join on. Weapons and shields, definitely. We can probably drop down to the standard sensor arrays. If we drop the training space then we have to find people who are already leveled, which is expensive. The storage has to stay or what’s the point in hauling? If we take out environmental controls we’ll limit ourselves on the contracts. No real kitchen and again we won’t get the best crew –”.

  “Heath,” the Loon interrupted his ramble. “You are listing every argo-enhanced system on the ship.”

  He threw his hands in the air. “We need all of them!”

  “If I may offer some perspective, we do not. I was a basic cargo ship when Walt purchased me. The first few years were done with only the minimal enhancements and crew. While I was not as awake then as I am now, there was a certain satisfaction in it. While it took long years to get to a higher level with more lucrative contracts, it can be done.”

  “Sure, but you’re forgetting the big difference between me and Uncle Walt. He was a delver for years. He could stop at dungeons and get some of the argo directly.I have one combat Skill, and its underleveled. I’ve barely ever been in a fist fight, and I lost!”

  “Then we will find others like us, eager to rise but without the means of doing so. Perhaps some who can help you delve in between trade runs. I believe in us.”

  “Fine.”

  “Good.”

  “Okay but which systems do we keep?”

  “I think you will need to give up on most of the crew amenities.”

  “No one worth anything will sign on otherwise!”

  “I disagree. It might take some time, but I believe we will find worthy crewmates. And the training areas, while useful for faster leveling, are not necessary.”

  “Ugh,” Heath groaned and pulled at his hair. The Loon was right. Easy enough for the ship to give up the amenities when she didn’t have to be squished into a tiny bunk. He would survive it though, and it would give them something to work towards.

  “Okay, fine. We’ll let him take the argo anchoring crew amenities. And while we’re at it, we should drop the storage. It will be tight but the base cargo bay is enough for whatever jobs we’ll get anyway. I know Uncle Walt kept the equipment.”

  “Indeed he did.”

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  Now that Heath had made some decisions the rest came easier. They would keep some of the bunks and a small area that would act as their mess hall and recreation center. They would go mad without it. The luxurious Captain’s suite and most of the fancier options would be stripped away in full. He took a moment to mourn for his tastebuds, resigning them to travel rations until they could resurrect the more complex kitchen.

  “Weapons or shields?” He asked. “We really need both but I don’t think we can afford them. Shields are necessary, but without weapons we’re sitting ducks if anything nasty shows up. And we’re already dropping the enhanced propulsion which means running will be out.”

  “I propose the following solution: drop the inertial dampeners and keep both the basic shielding and defensive weapons systems.”

  “Can we even do that? I don’t think I’ve been through a jump on a ship without the dampeners before.”

  “From my calculations it is survivable for all recorded forms of life, including humans! Though I do not believe it will be a pleasant experience.”

  He worried at his lip before taking the plunge. “We’ll do it. A rough jump is just part of the life.” He missed the carefree tone he was aiming for but it helped convince himself, at least a little.

  “That’s everything.”

  “It is,” the Loon said.

  “I’ll go call him back. Unless, do you need a minute or something?”

  “Thank you Heath, but no. I have made my peace with the situation.”

  He gave a pat to the bulkhead and went to summon the Shipwright. He found the man lounging against storage crates sitting out on the docks The crates that were so commonplace on every station, that Heath was not convinced they weren't left sitting around empty for ambiance. Without words, the man followed him back into the heart of the ship, spitting to the side before boarding. Heath promised himself once again he was never coming back to this system, and if he did, he would be high-enough level to tell this guy exactly what Heath thought of him.

  It was far too quick a process to point out all the argo crystals the man was getting off Heath. Something so important should be momentous, have a build up. Instead the man wasted neither time nor words before he began removing them.

  Watching another person use Class skills was often headache-inducing. Crafters especially so. But nothing in the universe would convince Heath to walk away and leave the man to his job. The first crystal that got removed was accompanied by loud grinding as the ship resettled, diminished. Heath couldn’t help but hear pain in the sounds of shifting metal, now that he knew the Loon was conscious.

  Heath adjusted his angle for the next set and immediately regretted it. It was like a spike of energy directly into his brain, as the core space twisted in some horrible way. The shuddering shook the whole ship, causing his teeth to clack together and his bones to vibrate.

  The only solace through the procedure was that it seemed to get easier. With each removal, the ship took less time to reach an equilibrium. He hoped that was a good sign and not a deeper problem at play. What felt like an entire day later, but was in reality a couple of hours at most, the man stepped back from the Core. A small Tailor-made leather sack clinked with crystals when the Shipwright wiped the sweat from his face.

  “It’s done.”

  “Good. Get off my ship.”

  The man snorted but complied. “Good luck, kid. Pleasure doing business with you.”

  Heath made a rude gesture at the man’s back.

  “Loon?” Heath’s voice sounded small in the sudden quiet.

  “I’m here, Heath. That was challenging, but the worst is over now. I will need a few minutes to regain my equanimity. It’s probably best you survey the ship before our first contractors show up with their deliveries.”

  Knowing something was correct and actually doing it were two very different things. But his uncle wouldn’t shy away from this and neither would he, now that he was a Captain in his own right.

  He stepped out of the closet, ensuring the ship core sealed him, and found himself in the hallway. They had discussed removing the suite, but having it be entirely gone was disorienting.

  Heath took a moment to get his bearings. The Wandering Loon was undeniably smaller, entire hallways missing between his memories and the current floorplan. Behind him was the bridge, and in front was the split walk to the quarters and the working areas of the ship – cargo bay, engine room, systems access. The exterior and interior of any ship were divorced spaces, the mana circuitry in the hull maintaining the separation. For the first time in his life, the Loon’s interior was barely bigger than the exterior.

  Everything was duller than it should be. His uncle had been profitable enough to afford custom aesthetic enhancements. Heath was not. The shining white walls, set to match the exterior, were gone, replaced with a matte gray finish. Every space was just slightly more cramped, narrower walkways and shorter ceilings.

  Bridge first, Heath decided. Spinning in place, he walked up to the hatch, the smooth opening a small comfort. The Loon might be diminished from her former glory, but at least she was in good repair.

  Not much had changed in the command center. It was smaller, with fewer stations and no observation area, but it had all the important pieces.

  “We’re still here. This is only the beginning.”

  “Quite right, Heath.”

  The tour of the crew quarters was quick. As with the rest of the changes, compact but still functional was the theme of the day. Heath was grateful he hadn’t started using his uncle’s quarters or giving them up might have hurt. As it was, his former bunk was once again ready for habitation. The only real difference was the beds were now stacked, the berths too narrow to fit them side by side and still have room to move.

  Heath would be thrilled if they found enough crew members for that to matter. As it was, they had room for ten people total. If those people were willing to be very friendly with one another. Five otherwise. He ran his hand along the scrape on the wall. The same one he’d said goodbye to before. Not all of the history of the ship had been erased. Not the most important things.

  He tried to duck into one of the other bunkrooms, only to find it stuffed full of furniture and other remnants of the Captain’s suite.

  “We’ll try and sell some of this before we leave,” he announced.

  The workstations and systems accessways were all functional, if bare. But the engine purred and the life support was fully operational, which was all they really needed. As with the extra bunks, the cargo bay was full, with narrow walkways between the heaps of miscellaneous stuff that had been in the areas of the ship that no longer existed.

  As bitter a pill as it was to swallow, at the end of the trying day after weeks of trying days, Heath was satisfied. He had a ship, he had a contract, and he would make it work.

  He returned to the bridge, for the first time sitting in the Captain’s chair without feeling like an imposter. On the display in front of him, he placed his Uncle’s good luck charm. Maybe there was something to it after all.

  “Bring up the contract, Loon. Let’s get started.”