"Osaka, how's it looking? Will this fix the oxygen problem?" Naomi asked as she pulled off only her helmet after re-entering the ship.
"Nope, that won't fly. I can deal with the carbon dioxide warnings, sure, but oxygen's a whole 'nother problem," Osaka said. "I can strip out some carbon and recycle a little, but that ain't gonna cut it. For now, haul that recovered gear to the workshop. I'll patch up the carbon scrubber at least."
Holding her small tablet, Naomi made her way to the recovery deck—a space like a gymnasium crossed with a warehouse. The massive hatch overhead was sealed now, and the steady hiss of air refilling echoed across the wide chamber.
"So... does that mean we just lost all that oxygen again?" she asked, watching the fogging glass.
On the other side, salvaged machinery sat bundled in nets while long manipulators snaked out from the walls, deftly untangling and sorting the haul.
"Nah, don't worry," Osaka answered through her tablet. "Same as the outer hatch. Before the doors open, the deck gets sucked down near-vacuum. We ain't blowin' out a whole room's worth of air. Not perfect, sure, but close enough."
Naomi let out a breath. "Good. I thought we'd just wasted a giant hall's worth of oxygen."
"Heh, nah. That part's fine. But our reserves still ain't pretty. Now, point that tablet so I can see. Let's move the good stuff to the workshop."
Naomi tilted the camera and carried the selected gear slowly down the corridor. In the workshop, manipulators hung from the ceiling, clacking and scuttling like the legs of a monstrous crab as they grabbed her cargo.
"Alright," Osaka said. "Next up, let's rip out the busted carbon scrubber from Grim Reaper."
On Naomi's screen, a schematic lit up, the damaged section blinking red.
"Got it. Right below the Bridge, huh? Okay, this way," Naomi muttered, propelling herself easily now. At corners she twisted, bracing her feet against walls to pivot. At the stairwell, she grabbed a railing, stopped, then pushed herself downward.
"This method's efficient," she said, "but my legs are going to waste away."
"Exactly. That's why folks flip on artificial gravity most of the time," Osaka replied. "Bodies just ain't built for floatin' forever."
Naomi laughed. "True, or else we'd all forget how to walk on Earth. Oh, this must be it. Osaka, is this the right room? Ugh, I can't read the sign. The words I hear make sense, but the letters aren't Japanese—or anything I know."
The plate bore odd characters, a strange blend of pictographs (symbolic drawings) and English.
"Right, I forgot. You got teleported in from another world—an isekai, maybe. Talkin's fine, but readin' takes practice. Don't worry, I'll teach ya."
"Yeah... I should learn. Still..." Naomi's voice grew soft. "I never stopped to think. Can I even go back? In my old world, am I just missing? Dead? I mean... it was a truck, after all. No one survives that—"
"Hey now, don't go there," Osaka cut in fast. "Keep thinkin' like that and you'll suffocate here before you get answers."
Naomi bit her lip and pushed the door open. Massive machines stood inside, pipes feeding into the walls.
"That one—it looks like the one outside. Is that the scrubber?" she asked.
"Sure is. Different shell, same guts. Yank it out and we'll strip it for parts."
"Alright. I know how from earlier," Naomi said. She shut off the power, then worked quickly through the pipes and clamps.
"Well, would ya look at that," Osaka said. "One try and you're already a pro."
Naomi grinned. "Told you I like DIY. Stuff like this is fun."
She carried the freed machine back to the workshop. The crab-like manipulators whisked it away, tearing into the casing and swapping parts with unnerving efficiency.
"Give it thirty minutes," Osaka said. "In the meantime, wanna learn some letters?"
"Good idea. If I can speak, I should be able to read too."
* * *
Thirty minutes later, Naomi groaned. "Ugh! It's impossible! The same sound has different symbols depending on the combo. Like reversed consonant-vowel pairs with extra vowels? Almost like that old i versus wi thing... Osaka, how do you read this one? And this one? No, they look identical!"
T/N: The reference to i vs. wi points to an archaic or dialectal writing/phonetic distinction (e.g., older Japanese kana or other scripts where certain sounds merged or disappeared)
"Haha! Yeah, same sound, different look. You'll get it. Just takes practice," Osaka said.
His hologram sat back on a sofa, sipping tea like nothing was urgent.
"Honestly, maybe it is simpler than Japanese, with kanji and kana and English and pseudo-English all mixed. Still, I'm worried I'll never manage. Oh—repair's done. I'll go pick it up."
She collected the restored device and returned to the Air Conditioning Room beneath the Bridge.
"Oh! So that really does read 'Air Conditioning Room.' Nice. Let's get this installed."
Thanks to Osaka's crash course, she could finally make out the plaque.
"Careful though," Osaka teased. "Don't go readin' signs out loud in front of folks. Makes ya sound like a kid still learnin' their ABCs."
"Shut it!" Naomi snapped.
She twisted the fittings into place, secured the machine, and exhaled. "There. That's it. So—how much more time do we have before we run out of oxygen now?"
"Well now... forty-five hours, give or take," Osaka said. "Ain't near enough to reach the closest colony. Only way we'd make it is stretchin' what's left with the suits' oxygen tanks. Would've been nice if we'd gotten the generator workin', but nope—ain't happenin'. So... where we go from here, that's your call, sis."
According to Osaka, they had two choices: keep scavenging the Spaceship Graveyard in hopes of finding replacement parts for the oxygen generator, or gamble everything on heading straight for the nearest colony. The first option had no guarantees—if nothing turned up, it was over. The second was just as risky; even with their supplies and suit oxygen, it would be a razor's edge, and any further breakdown would doom them before they arrived.
"The Graveyard still has plenty of places we haven't searched," Naomi murmured. "There's a chance the generator parts are out there. But... if we can reach a colony, maybe that's the safer bet."
She closed her eyes, weighing the decision in silence.
Then she exhaled sharply. "Alright. I've decided. We'll keep looking here a bit longer. If we managed to find a carbon scrubber this fast, we might turn up an oxygen generator too. And while we're at it, we'll hunt down spare suits—get those oxygen tanks as backup."