Chapter 6: Kicking Weakness to the Curb

To get Baisha's scrawny self into fighting shape, Huoman and Jingyi both swore by sweat and grit. It's how they'd muscled through life, after all.

"Push till you're gasping, then push harder," Jingyi said with a grin that could scare off a space pirate. She skipped dragging Baisha into a back-alley brawl—barely—and instead drilled her in the art of throwing punches. Baisha, who'd rather nap than dream of being a cosmic cage fighter, caved under Jingyi's death stare. "Land a few hits on me—say, 40-60 odds—and I'll call you good."

Baisha's brain whined, Yeah, that's never happening.

Huoman, on the other hand, treated Baisha like she was training for an intergalactic death race, squeezing every drop of stamina she had. Toss in Jingyi's merciless sparring, and surprise—after a week of this "Orphan Boot Camp," Baisha faceplanted.

Straight back to the medbay she went.

Gwenyth, the nurse-bot, scanned Baisha's scrapes and bruises and nearly blew a fuse, ready to accuse the orphanage of running a fight club. A deeper check confirmed the usual culprit: malnutrition, round two.

Huoman gaped. "She's that fragile?" He paused, then muttered, "Maybe she never shook off her last crash."

As Baisha dozed in a fever-fog, Gwenyth whispered, "I'm betting it's her genes."

Huoman quirked a brow. "She's got some DNA glitch too?"

"Not like Lanslow's radiation plague," Gwenyth said. "Something else entirely."

Huoman chuckled. "Feels like we're plugging a dying gadget into a weak outlet."

Gwenyth's eyes flickered. "She needs more than a charge—she needs a full-on power core."

Huoman smirked. "Sounds like you want one."

Gwenyth didn't flinch. "Duh. I'm a bot, stuck on bargain-bin electricity forever. Who wouldn't crave a core that'd keep me zipping for a decade?"

"Fair," Huoman said, laughing. "Too bad we're broke."

"Story of my life," Gwenyth sighed, her voice pure sarcasm.

Bantering done, Huoman pocketed the medbay bill and slipped out. Jingyi and Yaning were huddled on the steps outside, looking like they'd lost their best droid.

"She okay?" Jingyi asked, guilt all over her face. "I didn't… wreck her, right?"

Huoman shrugged. "She's like a drained battery—nothing's busted, just empty. Juice her up, and she's fine."

Jingyi griped, "She's a money pit." But her tone screamed I've got her back. "The orphanage isn't exactly rolling in credits, is it?"

"My screw-up," Huoman said. "I'll fix it. But yeah, we need a plan for the future."

He wandered off, deep in thought, as he often did. Lady Joan never minded his random exits. Jingyi and Yaning watched him go, sure he was off to hustle some cash for the kids.

"Now what?" Yaning asked, peeking through the medbay window. Baisha was out cold on the sterile bed, looking like a sleeping waif. "Can we see her?"

"The bot's got her," Jingyi said, pressing a hand to the glass like she could fist-bump Baisha's dreams. Her face hardened. "But we've gotta scrape up some funds."

Yaning's jaw dropped. "We're too young for jobs, and Lady Joan would lose it if we tried."

Jingyi flashed a rogue's grin. "Then I'll grab some cash."

Yaning sputtered. "Steal? Wei'an and Keleizha just yoinked lunches. You're talking credits. That's next-level trouble! And what do those punks even have?"

Good question. Nobody rich stuck around this dump.

"Then what's your bright idea?" Jingyi snapped. "Watch her keep collapsing?"

A faint voice slipped through the window's crack. "I'm… kinda okay, actually." Baisha, awake and wobbly, rubbed her temples. "Just dial back the training torture, and I'll survive."

Jingyi and Yaning whirled. "You're up?!"

"Yep," Baisha said, hauling herself upright with a grimace. "Also, I totally caught someone planning a stick-up for me."

"Stick-up? Nah, it's borrowing," Jingyi scoffed, arms crossed. "And Wei'an and Keleizha have it coming. They're factory apprentices with paychecks, but they still shake down kids for food. Total sleaze."

Baisha frowned, puzzling it out. At the orphanage, kids over twelve got job training. The sharp ones, like Wei'an and Keleizha, scored mechanic apprenticeships—plush gigs for this crowd. But instead of helping out, they bullied smaller kids into giving up their meals. Growing teens ate like starship engines, and these two preyed on the runts. Among the older kids, snatching food, clothes, or even jobs was standard chaos—Lady Joan let it slide to toughen them up for the galaxy's mean streets. Wei'an and Keleizha leaned into it, robbing kids like it was their day job.

Until Jingyi rounded up the victims for a smackdown. She handed the bullies bloody noses and bruised pride. They didn't dare snitch, and Jingyi scored some loyal followers and a tray of sweets as thanks.

"They stole food, you sorted them out," Baisha said. "But now you're after their cash. That's a whole new hustle."

Jingyi shrugged. "They're low-hanging fruit. I've already thrashed them. If a juicier target pops up, I'll switch."

Baisha groaned. Stop making crime sound so chill! "Kidding!" Jingyi said, smirking. "So, what's your move?"

Baisha tapped her chin. "You said they're mechanic apprentices? Get 'em here. I've got some questions."

If they needed quick credits, she'd lean on her old tricks.

Wei'an and Keleizha slunk in, faces sour like they'd been forced to scrub reactors. They shot Jingyi looks that could fry circuits. "What's this about?" Wei'an growled. "Don't think we're scared. You're just a girl who cheated last time with dirty moves and backup. Push us again, and we'll drag this to Lady Joan—or handle it ourselves."

Jingyi snorted, unbothered. "You two? Good luck."

The boys fumed, their bandaged heads and slung arms shouting we got wrecked. They were one taunt away from a suicidal rematch.

"Cool it!" Baisha hollered from her bed, then wheezed, out of breath. "I just wanna chat."

She studied them. "You're mechanic apprentices, right? Why're you still scrounging for food?"

Jingyi blinked. Yaning shook his head, caught off-guard. They'd written the boys off as jerks, but Baisha's question hit harder: maybe they weren't just cruel—maybe they were starving.

The boys fidgeted, then muttered, eyes glistening. "Everyone thinks apprenticeships are a big break. But learning a trade? It's a scam. Masters say, 'Teach a kid, lose your job.' They hide the real work, make us sweep floors or haul scrap."

To learn anything useful, they had to cough up half their pay to their master, then burn the rest on bribes and favors. Only then might they get a crumb of actual training.

Baisha stared. Teach a kid, lose your job?

This galaxy was stuck in the dark ages.