Cold and Mechanical

The air blasting through the ship's front hatch hit like a slap to the face, pushing against him, threatening to send him into the inky, empty and eternal void of space. He held firm, one hand on the ground, the other around his fragile objective. He was carrying a most important cargo, his mission's objective. The machine's limbs stung from the air, and he feared it would make him lose grip on the desired lifeform. He trembled.\nHe was unaware he could feel such a chill.\nCold and mechanical.\nAs the ship's hatch finally closed, he came back to his senses. The living screen blinked to life, attempting to string words together to comfort himself. Every sentence was interrupted by a glitched stutter, making him even more anxious than he'd already been. He was damaged. Damaged goods were unacceptable. But unlike any sort of cargo, he could be fixed. A minor setback, just a small hiccup in the plan. It was not his biggest concern. Despite the pain, a feeling he was growing accustomed to as the minutes passed, and how the cracks that lined his face sent waves of discomfort through him, his mind would only focus on one problem. He wasn't coming back empty handed, but missing more than half of what was requested. It was inadequate.\nHe wondered if he was better off not going back at all.\nCold and mechanical.