"Do this, do that", the suited figure, a black star on his left chest, whined mockingly. "Always 'where is that Gletrious-damn Starshoulder' never 'how is that Gletrious-damn Starshoulder'".
Some of you may be wondering, 'Narrator, the star is on his chest but he's called Starshoulder, isn't that a mistake?' Cease your relentless chatter lest you prove yourself to be less educated than an amoeba. There are no logical contradictions in this book and, if you happen to find any, you didn't. Your imp-sized pathetic excuse for a central nervous system couldn't distinguish between an orange and a banana if its miserable life depended on it. Leave your vain attempts at critical thinking wherever you lost your last braincell in the depths of the abyss and read this story like a good little boy/man/woman/girl/insect/slug.
Anyways-
Starshoulder laughed self-deprecatingly and let loose a deep sigh with a shake of his head. Deep in the bowels of the ship, the only light was the yellow lantern hanging from his shoulder. It was dim, but the narrow engine room was small enough that it barely sufficed, though with quite a bit of squinting and guesswork regarding wire colours.
Nothing's exploded too badly yet so surely it can't be that important.
He took out a small screwdriver and undid a panel that exploded outwards with black smoke. The insides of that already dim room became even harder to see as Starshoulder let loose a few grumbles about workers right's and unionisation and whatnot.
Fumbling around in the dark, he removed the spent crystal from inside the panel, replacing it with one from a small pouch on his waistband. Snapping it in place with the dainty touch of a lead mallet, a low hum picked up signifying the now working electronics. There were a few pops as several bulbs shattered, raining glass down on his visor, but one remained on, contributing its dim glow valiantly along that of the lantern in its eternal fight against the darkness.
The smoke at least was clearing, revealing the sheer, dismal maze of wires and pipes the Captain very generously called an 'engine room'. The simple fact was even Starshoulder was less than certain how it worked exactly, only that it somehow did. Years of cheap work-arounds and shortcuts had turned what had once been a stock engine into a strange abomination that would surely cause any respectable engineer to collapse from concurrent heart attacks, aneurysms and strokes.
At some point, Starshoulder had noticed new and strange connections forming and the occasional additional pipe that hadn't been there before and, in a fit of extreme wisdom, had left those parts untouched. The result was the occasionally pulsing, strangely cancerous looking mass of brass, steel, tungsten, plastic and several materials of a strange shade of dark-but-not-quite-black and a few prismatic pipes that invariably gave one headaches, nausea and delusions of grandeur.
Flicking one of the hundreds of switches on the wall to turn the light off as he left, Starshoulder was unaware of the strange patterns forming in the engine room. Patterns that seem to resemble the shape of a strange abomination of a mythical creature. Starshoulder kept walking, whistling firmly to cement his ignorance on anything out of the ordinary going on.
After several twists and turns, he made it to the common room of the ship, ignoring an excited Circleface gesticulating wildly while Trianglechest lay in an unmoving heap on the floor. He only grunted at Squareface who replied with a dejected nod.
Passing them, he made a beeline for the Captain's room, knocking on the rusted door.
"Come in", the Captain's phlegmy voice replied.
With a horrendous creak, he swung the door open and stepped into the Captain's quarters. A jellyfish poked its head out of its bowl but quickly lost interest, returning to its murky depths.
"What's the progress then", the Captain spoke, steepling his fingers in an attempt to look serious. This was countered heavily by sopping wet state of his head which Starshoulder visibly chose to ignore.
"Electricity's back up Captain, swapped out the fried Zanthrax Ore with some Spinner's alloy we had lying around so that should account for most-"
"Yeah, yeah", the Captain interrupted. "How long until the hyperdrive is up and running? I've got a lead and we don't have much time".
"Uhh", Starshoulder hesitated but decided to ask anyways despite all his instincts against it. "How long exactly do we have? I seem to remember telling you it would take at least a week for it to be fixed with an extremely optimistic and positive mindset"
"Hmmm", the Captain appeared deep in thought. "How about you fix it by the end of today? That would be a lot quicker than a week or whatever you were talking about".
"..."
"Well, glad we could sort that out then. Off you go, I gotta deal with the small problem of the beholder infestation in q block."
Starshoulder opened his mouth but realised words only worked if the recipient had even the vaguest interest in attempting to understand the opposing point of view. For a split-second, he saw into the dark void of depression where Squareface had made quite a nice, cozy area for himself before snapping back to the real world.
"I'll do my best Captain", Starshoulder lied blatantly.
"That's not enough", the Captain replied disapprovingly. "Do better"
The figure of Starshoulder trudging back past the common room was so pitiful that it garnered a look of sympathy from Squareface himself, which lasted a few seconds before Circleface slipped and emptied a can of space-tuna down the back of his suit.
It is worth noting that by this point, the mental resilience of Squareface had surpassed that of many Kings and Emperors, entering the ranks of those whom a universe would scarcely see in its entire lifetime.
Circleface tended to have that effect on people.
Well, Starshoulder returned to the bowels of the ship, his lonely figure receding into the darkness until only his swaying lantern could be seen and further still until even that was swallowed by the blackness.
Trianglechest groaned as he stood up on shaky feet, holding his head in his hands with an expression of confusion on his face.
"What", he groaned. "Happened".
Squareface pointed a black-suited arm at Circleface who, proud that his method of resuscitation worked, scratched at the back of his white-suited and masked head bashfully.
Faintly guttural gurgling and slobbering sounds echoed from Q block and Circleface shot off in that direction with a responsible posture, grabbing the broom as he went.
Trianglechest plopped down on the sofa and spoke in a tired voice.
"I have a horrible feeling that everything is gonna go downhill from here"
Squareface's sullen voice replied.
"Welcome to my world"