"You're too damn slow, you know that?" Ferdid's eyes twinkled as he watched his nephew scrub the floors of the corridor.
"I'm sorry." Came the reply. For many years, the boy had worshipped Ferdid, his rare visits being a rare occasion to be savoured - like a birthday. In his eyes, Uncle Ferdid showed that it could be done. He's made it. He'd ascended from the slums of the second Hive-City and became a space-scavenger. Perhaps not the most prestigious of space related jobs, but certainly one of the most important. There would be nothing for sale in the bazaars and markets of the Hive-Cities were it not for the work of the Space Scavengers in their...
...Their glorified flying tin cans, Ferdid finished silently. The ship around them had been rattling for aeons. They hadn't found any ship parts in centuries. One day, The Oswellian Prince would shut down and Ferdid prayed that he wouldn't be aboard when that happened.
"Look, kid, I'm sticking my neck out here for you..." Ferdid began, before faltering when his nephew looked up. The kid's eyes, a cerulean blue, had always been able to win him over. Ferdid didn't want to be the guy to burst the kid's bubble. Space-Scavenging isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Many years ago...
"Tell me again, how does the ship work?" Rook was sat on the lap of Uncle Ferdid, who had barely had time to get a cup of caffeine before being bombarded with questions. Ferdid sighed indulgently.
"Alright. It's dark out there, so to a degree - we'll use the two stars for reference. But even then, there's the risk of flying into space debris, rocks or planets, so a lot of navigation is done by radar - if we find an unknown object any bigger than a city, then we'll land and scavenge whatever we can find. We'll then sell it and -"
He trailed off as he realised that his nephew had fallen asleep in his arms.