Earlier today, you just got blamed for blowing up a cargo boat; You’re not going to apologize for something you didn’t do. This one’s on him.

Fine. You’ll go halfzies; but only because you need him to take you to Cohv. And pay you. Paying you sounds nice.

You open, “I think I speak for Zeb, but we’re sorry for the damage caused to the road work. It’s just this ol’ machine is a bit temperamental — actually we were on our way to Cohv to get it fixed.”

Karvik scowls at you, “Ah, temperamental, is it? Had my temper been quicker than your mental driving I would’ve nailed Zeb to that seat with my broadsword.”

“Well, it’s a good thing no one got hurt.”

“You bet your salty ass it’s a good thing! These are Her Army’s Engineers you almost flattened! Be grateful that today I don’t have the logistics to deal with you both, as you’d be off to a factory colony and Zeb would be confined to the stocks for a whole day!”

He gets the stocks!? Last damn favor I do someone.

“But don’t you worry. You still get to pay for the work you mucked up. Now cough it up.”

Zeb answers meekly, “Oh–Oh goodness. How much?”

“How much you got?”

“Th-three Urchins.”

“That’ll do.”

“B-But that’s my weekly wage!”

Karvik raises an eyebrow while holding the coin, “Are you going to bitch at me for letting you off easy?”

“N-no, sir.”

“That’s what I thought. Now shove off! And it’s Sergeant to you!”

“Do we still need to go around the construction?”

“PISS OFF!”

As the crank engine drives off, you hear an awful grinding coming from under it.

Zeb grumbles to himself, “Ugh, I knew I should’ve kept the gear lever at workshop strength. Now I busted the darn thing up. This day can’t get any worse.”

“Well, at least you know this road, right?”

He sighs.

The grinding gets worse as you continue.

Zeb groans, “I need to know what this noise is. C-can you take a quick look underneath and tell me if you see anything while I check the controls here.”

You tell him you’ll do your best, despite having absolutely zero knowledge about these things.

You notice Zeb repeatedly shoving his face into a document, muttering all kinds of things in a language you don’t know, but you don’t need a translator to know that he’s not holding up too well.