“Honey.” He says. He’s less than familiar with whatever Kolya’s moves onto, but he hangs around in case he can do something useful under instruction.

Once the easier parts are done, Honey is pretty much relegated to standing around and handing Kolya the tools he asks for. Every so often, Kolya will ask him to help hold something in place while he secures it. 

The hum of the engines fills the air, making extended conversation difficult. 

The lack of conversation doesn’t especially bother Honey. He handled a few days of total isolation just fine.

This routine probably continues for a while.

When they're done, Kolya steps back with a satisfied smile. 

"There," he says, patting the newly repaired section. "All better, old girl." The ambient humming changes tone briefly, as if in response. 

Honey quirks an eyebrow at the reaction, but only for a moment. He supposed this is hardly the first time he’s seen someone personify a ship.

”Anything else on the docket?”

Kolya looks around like he's expecting a task to materialise out of thin air.

"Aurora? Got anything else for us, love?" 

On the far wall, a blank panel flickers and brightens, displaying a series of letters and numbers. 

Honey might be passingly familiar with the more physical aspects of maintenance, but he suspects this is beyond him. “What’s the word?”

"Something's jammed in one of the power converters, couple of levels up," Kolya interprets. "You coming?" 

Honey nods quickly. “Happy to be of service.”

Wherever Kolya’s headed, Honey’s following, at least until someone asks for him.

Then he can assist with a few more repairs around the ship. 

The corridors are deserted, apart from the two of them and the occasional octokitten. They walk past empty rooms and leave footprints in the dust of unused hallways. Kolya doesn't seem to notice or care. 

Honey does notice. Honestly, he’s a bit perturbed by how seemingly uninhabited this part of the ship is supposed to be. How many people are on this ship? How many people are there supposed to be?

Honey doesn’t say any of this, but he isn’t especially good at schooling his expression, especially when he doesn’t think someone is watching.

Kolya picks up on his mood after a while.

"Something wrong?" 

Honey ponders how to respond for a moment. “What’s the history with you all, and this ship?”

He's silent for a few moments before responding.

"That's...a very long story. Why do you ask?" 

Honey sighs. “Just a lot of oddity, and, I have a good bit of oddity already. Knowing where it started might spare me it.”

"If you want every oddity on this ship explained, we'll be here for millennia," Kolya warns. "But I suppose I could tell you the bare bones. Enough that you won't put your foot in your mouth, at least." 

He sighs. "It's Kit who's the real storyteller...but he doesn't like telling this one, so I'll make do." 

Since they're likely to be here a while, Kolya pauses to set his toolbox down and lean against the wall. 

When he speaks again, his voice is slower, measured and distant.

"Once upon a time, before the civilisation that first settled New Constantinople was a glint in the eye of its founders, there was a prince. Born in the last decades of a dying regime, he grew up with the growing clouds of revolution hanging overhead. He was still a boy, though he thought himself a man, when the clouds broke and fire rained down from the sky.

"The revolutionaries were merciless and thorough. Not content with unplugging the old king from the machines that extended his life, they hunted down and executed the rest of the royal family, down to the youngest child. The prince was shot, and left bleeding out on the palace floor." 

The engines whine, and the vents above them huff out a gust of warm air. 

Honey is probably paying more attention to this than any other single thing since coming aboard this ship. He is rapt.

"He didn't die. As he lay there, waiting for death, someone else found him. A pair of wandering immortals, not part of the revolution, who'd slipped into the palace in the rioters' wake and were taking advantage of the chaos. Something about the prince caught the eye of the younger one, and he persuaded the other to intervene and save the dying boy's life." 

Kolya takes a ragged breath. 

"They offered me a choice. A chance. To run away with them, see the stars, run and keep running so death could never catch up. I...said yes. Obviously." There's something in his voice, as though he's trying to convince himself as much as Honey. 

"I couldn't stay on Cyberia after that. Even immortal, it wasn't safe to be the last of the royal bloodline. So we stole a ship, the three of us. Myself, Kit, and the Doctor." The capital letter is practically audible; it's a title, not just a description. "Aurora was a battle cruiser, built for war in the shipyards of Cyberia. She wasn't meant to function with so small a crew, but she likes us, so she's learned to make do. She's...our home. The one constant thing through the centuries, apart from each other." 

A tension inside Honey that he had only been half-aware of releases its energy suddenly. He lets out a loud laugh, and smiles. "Thank you for that, Kolya. That cleared up quite a bit, actually."

He wipes a hand across his face, cleaning off some imaginary detritus. "I don't know how much Ivy's shared, so you might already know everything I have to say, but since you've offered me a tale it only seems fair I offer you mine, if you want to hear it."

When Honey laughs, Kolya jumps, then he pulls a face like he's not sure whether to be offended. 

"Ivy—? Why am I always the last person to hear these things..." he mutters. "No, I've not heard anything from Ivy," he continues at a more conversational volume. "Go ahead; I'm listening."

Honey nods. "I was born in an old steel ruin, in the middle of a deep, dark forest. It was just my parents and me, for a while. I was like I am now then, though, maybe a bit less so, it does seem like I've grown into it a bit. I'd hunt with my dad sometimes, until I broke the bow he made by pulling on it too hard. After that I helped my mom gather instead, usually I'd pick roots and tubers out of the ground since I had an easier time digging than my mom did. She always had an issue with her back..."

He looks around for a moment, briefly seeming lost, before coming back to the present. "Anyway, we lived there like that for a while, up until the Old King— Ah, the local old king that is, King Cole, and his army happened upon whatever planet we were on and decided that we were all together far too happy. He burned the whole place down to ashes, and took everyone who survived. I ended up in his army myself for a time, managed to convince myself that at least I was useful to someone, even if that someone wasn't much more than an ugly piece of leather pinned a chair. That lasted up until King Cole heard about my exceptional performance. He decided I had more to contribute in the lab than on the battlefield."

Honey shivers. "Those were a long two years. They never did figure out just why I was like this. Security got lax once they started to doubt I'd be worth anything, so I decided to make my leave. After that, it was just, nothing for a while, until the rebels found me. I didn't tell them much, and they didn't need to hear much. Not hard to believe someone when they say they've got a bone to pick with the king and his men. That lasted for another few years, right up until the Prospero got hit by that missile and went up like a firework. Then you all picked me up."

He seems a bit deflated, somehow, having said that all.

"That's...I'm sorry." Kolya's expression is one of deep sympathy. 

"All of us on this ship know a little about being a science experiment. We—" He stops, shakes his head. "I'm glad you got out."