“The forecast said it would be dry,” Izz said through clenched teeth. She studied the swirling cloud of pale gold and ice with a steadily increasing throb at her temples. That unpredictable nebula was moving faster than they’d expected, and half the hull still yawned open.
“That was last night.” Greaves sounded as cheerful as only an incorporeal sentient AI could.
An AI that clearly had never dealt with storms, Izz added silently. A molar twinged, and she eased up before she wound up dependent on Greaves for dental surgery.
“G, if I might remind you…you were the forecast. These aren’t normal storms moving in.”
Puzzled silence hissed over the ship’s speakers.
Right. She sighed, tugging on her spacesuit. “A normal storm, planetside, is a bit of rain, maybe some lightning. A bad storm adds high winds. Most storms are an inconvenience.”
“I understand.” That was as robotic as Greaves ever got — a sign the AI was learning. “This is not a normal storm. I should have woken you sooner. You need to finish the repairs so the ship is safe.”
“I need to finish the repairs because the ship is what keeps us safe,” Izz corrected. “Because that’s ammonia rain and faux-pyrite hail on its way, and we’re docked at an ancient station that’s been abandoned for at least the past five hundred years.”
***
Thanks to Leigh Kimmel for the prompt this week! Last night the forecast said today would be dry. Now we have storms moving in — and I need to get that work done…
My prompt about rocks went to nother Mike – check it out over at MOTE! And don’t forget, you can join in the prompt exchange or snag a spare – new prompts roll in tomorrow.
