[center][url=https://fontmeme.com/fonts/sudegnak-no3-font/][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/171031/b10c648088433cf11935ff0b1b0a4ef8.png[/img][/url][/center][hr][h3][color=magenta]Chapter 1[/color][/h3][color=darkgray][sub][i]January 12 2079[/i][/sub][/color]


Varya nodded when Oleg beat a quick retreat, someone pulling his attention away. The work order popped up on her tablet. She blinked then swiped through the order, reading the details. Artem’s hand nearly retracted when she had blatantly ignored it. 

She tugged it back with a rough shake of her own, “[color=B56A7B]Kozlov. Call me Varya.[/color]” She mumbled then let his hand go. One foot steadying on the hover dolly. 

The tech hummed as she scrolled then passed it to Artem. “[color=b56a7b]Looks like it’s a rush order, just pulled in and the vehicle is still cold. We’ll need to warm her up.[/color]” Kicking the dolly in front of her she assumed Artem followed as she made her way through the shop toward the docking bays. She made a quick stop at the power tool workbench signing out a couple space heaters. With some difficulty she hauled the large industrial sized heaters onto her dolly, awkwardly sidestepping with both hands on the leather handles. The dolly groaned and flared weakly in protest with a complaint at the weight, she loaded two. Then with both hands she pushed them into the bay.

Down the line of vehicles parked mechanics worked through their own orders of the day. Some complained mildly of their stubborn persistent problems. Others hummed, happy with their compliant project. Otherwise the atmosphere among the tech and mechanics was always a light one. Oleg commanded respect, doled out fair work for everyone and had a knack for managing people. He paid attention to skills as much as he paid attention personalities, pairing up accordingly. It was a lot of work to take such care, but while he had expectations for all his employees he never asked of them what he wouldn’t ask of himself. 

Varya certainly held him in high regard, the man had given her a chance where others laughed her out of her incomplete education. She earned her position as a tech in the shop.

Bay doors opened and closed around them, brushing cold January air lifting the hair on the back of her neck she they walked down the line. 

When they arrived to the vehicle, it’s wings were still frosty, in serious need of deicing. The electrical panels off to the side of the cockpit needed to be thawed before they could access anything really. The only areas warmed were engines. The pilot hopped out, looking at the ice with a whistle. “Whoops, be sure to chip it [i]all[/i] off. Let the deicer actually dry this time, wrenchmonkees.” He was stylishly dressed, a professional chauffeur with a shit attitude to match.

Varya stared at him, gritted teeth, an aspect of the job she hated was dealing directly with the clientele. 

“[color=b56a7b]Right away, sir.[/color]”