Aboard the very small floating station that was Murrietta Base, Teel-Char sat swiping through a datapad, not paying much attention to his job. The greenish-salmon Mon Cala enjoyed this job because there wasn’t much work to do—at least, not normally. Droids and automated systems handled most of the actual work; he just double-checked their results. The station was poorly lit, claustrophobically small, and tight. The entire place was filled with the low, dull hum of thousands of processing units.

  About every five minutes, his eyes swiveled back to the monitor he was supposed to be watching. The monitor charted the dead space between the Galactic Plane and the Rishi Maze—which is to say, it was practically blank except for five yellow dots that, over time, slowly ascended up the screen.

  He returned to his video game before his eyes suddenly shot back up. There are supposed to be six dots. A box hadn’t reported in. Panic set in as he imagined how he might explain to his supervisor that he’d lost an entire ship without noticing. He pulled up the data into a 3D holographic display and started rummaging through it.

  Relief washed over him as he zoomed in on a specific dot and found that there were, in fact, six. Two were just too close together to read as separate when zoomed out. He leaned back in his chair, relaxing—until his eyes shot up again in shock. Wait… 5 left earlier today, and 6 left over a week ago. They shouldn’t even be close to each other. 6 should be well ahead by now.

  Quickly, he charted out 6’s path. The ship had pushed a little further up before doubling back abruptly and had been returning to the Galactic Plane at drift speed ever since. It’s an odd maneuver, he thought. It’ll cost them their payment for sure, since they’re not getting much charting done. But they hadn’t sent out any transmissions, so all he could assume was that they’d rather sit out there not doing their jobs than get to work. I’ll need to prepare a report for my supervisor, he realized. Which means I’ll have to analyze the data more closely.

  His eyes narrowed as he realized that his initial conclusion wasn’t quite what the data showed. That was just my assumption from seeing their full trajectory on a map. He noticed that their descent back to the Galactic Plane was originally much quicker than their ascent before hitting drift speed—almost like they’d pulled a tiny hyperspace jump. But that seems unlikely.

  He pulled up the time signatures for each ping that the dots represented and noticed the time jump. They hadn’t suddenly made a hyperspace jump—they’d missed multiple pings. For some reason, their box hadn’t transmitted for about an hour. Adjusting for that, he could pinpoint the exact moment where they’d turned around and started retreating to the Galactic Plane. Their descent before reaching drift speed was faster than their initial ascent, but they hadn’t called anything in.

  He exhaled sharply. The supervisor will want to see this. He braced himself, loading his findings onto a small datapad with a built-in holographic projector. Standing up, he walked past blinking lights and computers through the cramped space. The station had originally been intended to be fully automated, making it very uncomfortable for the few workers who actually attended the place. He turned a corner and found the desk of his supervisor, Nunb Norbin, a short, squat Sullustan female, and her attending protocol droid.

  Upon seeing him, Nunb released a series of guttural noises, and the protocol droid translated. “What is it? Break time has not been authorized.”

  “I’m not on break,” Teel-Char said, holding up the datapad with the data he’d gathered. “I noticed some… interesting details in 6’s flight path.” He could feel Nunb’s eyes piercing into him. They almost looked lifeless, which made holding eye contact with her uncomfortable.

  More guttural noises followed, and the protocol droid translated. “Ship Six: Silver Sparrow,” the droid droned. “Explain anomaly.”

  Teel-Char’s throat tightened. Nunb’s black eyes bored into him, unblinking. He flicked the hologram alive. “Ma’am, their trajectory—they backtracked. At drift speed. And Ship Five is…” He zoomed in. “Here. Closing fast.”

  Before he could elaborate, Nunb cut him off with more guttural noises. The droid translated, “Did you transmit to 6?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  Now the guttural sounds sounded annoyed, though the cheap and old model of protocol droid wasn’t capable of inflecting emotion. “Did you at least try to transmit to 5?”

  “Well, no,” he stammered, trying to finish his report. “I thought you’d want to see this immediately. The data shows—”

  The Sullustan cut him off, throwing her arms up in frustration. The protocol droid simply said, “She is being very vulgar. She is dissatisfied with your findings. She wishes you had tried calling 5 and 6 before bringing this to her attention so that you could assure there was a problem.”

  The final words stabbed Teel like a knife. ‘Assure there’s a problem’? Why didn’t she just listen? Despite her disregard for the situation, the Sullustan shot up straight and marched through the cramped hallways of the base toward the station’s transmitter. The protocol droid continued, “To save time, she wants you to bring up your concerns about 6 to 5 directly. 5 is the Koiyokan. She believes that will be quicker than having me attempt a translation.”

  “We’re not going to contact 6 first?” Teel asked, thinking that didn’t make much sense. The Sullustan allowed his question to go unanswered.

  They turned a corner, and an old, decrepit transmitter came into view. The transmitter was still branded with a logo from the Old Republic—it was older than either Nunb or Teel-Char. Nunb wasted little time firing the machine up and getting it ready.

  ********

  Garrett, So-mi, Gazrael, and Blender had barely taken off their space suits and hadn’t even left the cargo bay yet when Blitzer’s voice crackled over the PA: “Hey, uh, boss… the New Republic has been callin’—GET OUT, LEONIA!—you’d better hurry; she won’t stop.”

  Garrett dropped his helmet and rushed through the ship as fast as he could, his boots clanging against the metal floor as he navigated the poorly lit, ozone-stenched hallways. As he drew closer to the bridge, he could hear Leonia’s voice growing louder and louder. When he reached the door of the recreation room, he saw her pounding on the door to the bridge, her tone sweet but laced with malice. “I JUST WANT TO TALK TO THEM, BLITZER! I WON’T BE RUDE!”

  She turned as she heard the commotion behind her. Seeing Garrett, her eyes widened, and she suddenly scurried away, her window of opportunity to yell death threats at random New Republic personnel vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. Garrett’s knuckles whitened around his discarded helmet. Leonia’s violet eyes locked onto Garrett—defiant, calculating—before she melted into the shadows. Garrett clenched his fist as he watched her go. Every second wasted on her theatrics was a second closer to the New Republic docking a fee from their pay. That's right, he thought, be a good girl and get back to your room, I’ll deal with you later.

  The door clicked as Blitzer unlocked it and hissed open. Not waiting for Garrett to sit down, Blitzer connected the call. The hologram that materialized before them wasn’t the Sullustan who had handled Murrietta’s contract with them but some Mon Cala. Garrett recognized the alien but didn’t know his name—nor was he particularly happy about rushing through the ship just to speak to some low-level grunt. His annoyance showed in his tone. “This is the Koiyokan. To whom am I speaking?”

  “This is Comms Officer Teel Char,” the hologram responded, his nervousness clearly visible. “Contacting you on behalf of my supervisor.”

  “Okay, great,” Garrett said, letting his sarcasm turn both words into knives. I should’ve let Leonia vent some of her violent fantasies at this guy, he thought bitterly, she might even have rewarded me if I had. “What does your supervisor want? We’re a bit busy with a wreck here.”

  “A wreck?” the Mon Cala shot back, his voice filled with concern. “The Silver Sparrow?”

  Garrett’s eyes narrowed as the Mon Cala named a specific ship. How does he know about the Silver Sparrow already? “Didn’t catch a name on the ship, but it seems like you’re not surprised to hear about it. I did catch from their box that they were… they were #6 on this job, though.”

  The hologram muttered something Garrett could barely catch and then said, “Yes, that would have been the Silver Sparrow… What do you believe happened to it?”

  “Well, it was ripped up pretty badly. Definitely took multiple hits from turbo lasers. But I’m gonna be honest—I don’t know, and I’m not eager to stay long enough to find out.” As he spoke, he studied the Mon Cala’s face for any hint of knowledge or understanding of what had happened. To his chagrin, the Mon Cala’s face looked surprised and uncomfortable, betraying nothing else.

  “I see. What was the status of their transmission equipment?” the Mon Cala asked.

  “The same as everything else, I guess—blasted to pieces,” Garrett responded. What kind of stupid question is that? I just told you the ship was ripped open.

  “I’m sorry. We hadn’t received any transmissions from the Silver Sparrow for about an hour after its downward trajectory. It would be useful to know if their equipment was down or if there was a different cause.”

  That answered Garrett’s question of why the New Republic hadn’t rushed to save the Silver Sparrow. They must’ve just now learned anything had happened to it at all. It wasn’t comforting. Now that he knew the box they had aboard might be useless if they actually needed the New Republic to find them, the situation felt even more precarious.

  “What are the chances you can go see what it found?” the Mon Cala asked again, interrupting Garrett’s thought process.

  Blitzer turned in his chair and whispered, “Absolutely not,” to Garrett. Garrett looked down to acknowledge him and then back at the hologram as he answered. “No chance at all, sir.”

  Garrett heard a commotion on the other side of the hologram, and the Sullustan he had been expecting to talk to moved into view, a protocol droid in tow. The Sullustan began spouting a stream of gurgly, wet noises, and the protocol droid started translating. The droid’s voice dripped faux sympathy. “Contract Clause 37-B stipulates hazard investigation compliance. Noncompliance voids payment. However…” A pause, gears whirring. “Supervisor Norbin generously offers triple pay for your… cooperation.”

  Blitzer’s eyes widened, and he cut in. “You can’t possibly be threatening us over this!”

  More sounds in the Sullustan language followed before the droid translated: “Oh, that’s not the threat. Your contract also has a stipulation that allows you to be drafted into the New Republic Navy. Not complying with this order will be considered desertion, and you’ll be wanted by the New Republic.”

  Blitzer slammed his palms on the console, the hologram flickering. “You heard the captain—turbo lasers tore that ship apart! You want us to fly into a fucking massacre?”

  The Sullustan in the hologram became visibly angry, and Garrett realized he needed to step in. “Blitzer, take a walk,” he said, gesturing to the door. The look Blitzer flashed him could have killed a man, but he got up and departed as ordered, the door hissing shut behind him, before Garrett heard a loud clang in the recreation room. Blitzer’s right, Garrett thought. The Koiyokan can’t go toe-to-toe with anything carrying turbo lasers. But he doubted this middle-management bureaucrat cared.

  Garrett turned back to the hologram. “I’m afraid the Koiyokan isn’t a warship. We wouldn’t do you much good if you drafted us. But I would be happy to finish plotting the pre-agreed route. We can still finish the whole thing in the agreed—”

  The Sullustan spoke again, interrupting him, and the droid translated: “The Koiyokan is a Hammerhead Corvette, isn’t it? She says that your ship sounds like a warship to her.”

  “Well, yes, but it’s been heavily stripped—” he began to protest, but again, he was cut off by the Sullustan’s low gurgles and the protocol droid’s translation.

  “Your job out there, Captain, is to find and identify potential dangers for space travel. You have found evidence of a danger. Your contract stipulates you investigate to identify and safely record the nature of the danger.” A pause as the droid processed more of the Sullustan’s words.“The alternative,” the droid paused again, as if savoring the words, “is desertion. Penalty: Article 12 of the Naval Code. Summary execution. For the entire crew.”” The Sullustan’s eyes widened devilishly as the protocol droid finished the translation. She’s enjoying this little power trip, Garrett thought, shuddering to imagine what working on her station must feel like when she seemed to openly enjoy the misery she brought to those under her command.

  “I’ll, uh…” Garrett stammered, unable to think of any further arguments. My hands are tied, he realized. Failure to pay and becoming a wanted fugitive were high prices to pay, especially with a Tarkin on board. Any New Republic vessel that recognized them was bound to shoot on sight. But he also knew the alternative could be death. Both obeying and disobeying carried a high chance of being death sentences. “I’ll get right on that, then, ma’am. We have the Silver Sparrow’s box; we can retrace its course.”

  The Sullustan nodded, and the transmission abruptly ended. Garrett exhaled sharply before slamming his fist against the wall. “GOD DAMN IT!”

  He quickly regained his composure. This is not a discussion I want to have with my crew, he thought, but there’s no sense delaying it. He reached over deftly to activate the PA. “All crew, meet in the recreation room as soon as possible. I’ve got some… news.”

  **********

  So-mi, Blender, Gazrael, and Jerec sat around the table, while Blitzer stood in the back, his face red with anger. He already knew what news Garrett was about to share. Leonia sat on a counter, her mirror in hand, meticulously touching up her makeup. She was trying to apply a vibrant blueish-purple lip color edged with black, carefully selecting shades that would complement her pale skin and violet eyes. She seemed visibly disinterested in the meeting about to take place.

  Garrett felt six pairs of eyes digging into him, ready to find out what was so important. There was no sense in sugarcoating it. “The New Republic contacted us. It was related to that wreck we found. They didn’t know it was destroyed, but they didn’t seem too surprised to find out it had been.”

  He paused, expecting an interjection, but so far, his crew seemed disinterested. Might as well rip the bandage off, he thought. “We’re being drafted. We’re to investigate what hit that ship.”

  Multiple crew members reacted simultaneously. Blender’s eyes widened with shock as she absorbed the information. Blitzer exhaled sharply, he knew it was coming but it didn’t make the confirmation any less hard.

  So-mi’s wrench clattered to the floor as she shot up, grease-streaked hands trembling. “They want this rustbucket to fight? What’s next—throwing spoons at starfighters?”

  The most violent reaction came from Leonia. She leapt off the counter, throwing random objects to the floor, her prized mirror cracking as it hit the ground. “I’M NOT A FUCKING REBEL SHITBAG!”

  Jerec, perhaps the calmest of the group, simply said, “Tell them I can’t come in. I’m sick.”

  Garrett waited for a moment, letting the crew vent their frustrations. The moment stretched into several, and finally, he raised his voice to call everyone to attention. “ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT. Everyone just settle down. I know this news is a lot to take in.”

  “SETTLE THE FINAL DETAILS TO YOUR WILL!” Leonia shot back, clenching her fists as if she were about to lunge at him.

  Garrett shook his head and turned to Gazrael and Jerec. “Lock her in her room.”

  Jerec shot up straight and moved directly for her. Gazrael was slower, intentionally letting Jerec take the brunt of Leonia’s resistance. As Jerec reached to grab her, Leonia immediately started swinging at him. Despite his large, imposing figure compared to her small, diminutive form, she was undeterred. “KEEP THOSE ROTTING BANTHA-SMELLING FINGERS OFF OF ME, YOU BLUE-COLORED SHIT STAIN!”

  Jerec gently lifted her up, trying to be as soft as possible, but her struggle continued. Her punches and kicks did little against his brutish form besides annoying him, but her threats didn’t stop. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU SO FUCKING MUCH!”

  Jerec began to respond. “That doesn’t even make se—” He was cut short as Leonia braced both her legs against the wall, launching herself like a diving board. The force knocked them both over, sending them tumbling to the floor. It was an unfortunate beating for Jerec to take. Despite his rough and coarse demeanor, he was one of the gentlest people on the crew. Even Leonia felt a slight pang of guilt for knocking him over, though she would never admit it.

  As she stumbled to her feet, Gazrael grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder in one quick, fluid motion. Unlike Jerec, he didn’t try to be gentle. His movement was rough, and she exhaled sharply in discomfort as she landed over his shoulder. Her face froze as she tried to decide how to react. Her resistance became noticeably less violent as she instead resorted to grabbing and clinging to doorways, shouting protests. Despite her efforts, Gazrael managed to carry her into the starboard-side elevator, hitting the button for the second floor. He carried her across the small hall area and through the doorway to her quarters.

  Her quarters were a small space, barely large enough to fit her twin-sized bed. The room was illuminated by a lamp that filled it with a soft, delicate purple light. The decorations were a mix of the adorable and the macabre— wilted roses hung like executed traitors, their petals brushing against a plush tooka doll missing an eye. On the shelf above, the skull of a convor rat stared blankly beside a tarnished Imperial Academy medal. Her only furniture was a small dresser with a few drawers left ajar, the top lined with trophies and awards. Gymnastics trophies, all silver or bronze, suggested she had been good but never the best. There were also awards from the Imperial Academy, mostly for marksmanship and simulated firefights—not a single one for strategy or command.

  Gazrael deposited her onto her bed, and she glared up at him defiantly. “You guys can’t just lock me in here.”

  “Pretty sure we can, actually,” he replied, his tone unsympathetic. “The door locks from the outside for a reason.” He did feel a small pang of regret at locking her in such a confined space.

  “Oh yes, remind me that even my own quarters are just a brig to detain me at Garrett’s request.” She grimaced at the door, her voice taking on a haughty tone. “I HAVE rights, you know. You can’t treat me like a prisoner.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m not taking lectures on rights from an Imperial loyalist. For the same reason, I don’t discuss my bank’s security measures with a bank robber.”

  “The Empire’s constitution had rights. They carried over from the Republic—” she began, but Gazrael cut her off.

  “I’m not having this argument with you again. Your side lost. Get over it.”

  The purple lamp cast fractured shadows over her macabre shrine of wilted roses and plush horrors. Leonia sat cross-legged on the bed, her violet eyes tracking Gazrael as he lingered in the doorway. She plucked a petal from one of the desiccated roses and twirled it between her fingers like a dying butterfly.

  Her lips pursed, and she fell silent for a moment as he turned to leave. As he approached the door, she spoke up again, her voice barely audible. “You know, if you’re going to play jailer, you could at least bring snacks. Or a game. Ever played Sabacc with a tooka doll? It cheats.”

  He paused and turned to look at her. I should step out, close the door, and lock her in, he thought. I shouldn’t give her an inch. She’ll take a mile if I do. But what he knew he should do and what he actually did were two different things. As he tried to push himself out the door, he felt his heart tug him back into the room, closer to her. Stupid fucking heart, he thought. Making my life harder. Can’t it just listen to my brain for once?

  He folded his arms and leaned against the doorway, her lavender scent—sharp, chemical, like synth-blossoms—clung to the air. “I'm not here to entertain you.” He finally said.

  “Entertain me? Darling, I’m the show.” She extended her arm and tilted her head like she was about to pirouette, her silver-streaked hair falling over her face like ink in water. “Admit it—you’d miss this if I were gone.”

  He almost smiled before he caught himself. I would miss you, he thought, that's the problem, because my life would be easier with you gone. She flopped backward onto the bed. Gazrael’s resolve wavered as she patted the mattress beside her.

  A few moments of awkward silence passed before she broke it, her eyes calculating. “Why did you stay?”

  He didn’t look at her as he answered, feeling her studying gaze fixed on him. She’s analyzing my every expression, he thought before he answered. “Because you asked me to.”

  Her face fell flat, but she persisted. “But why did you do what I asked?”

  He thought for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Truthfully, I don’t want her to feel alone, he admitted to himself. But if I say that, her next question will be why I don’t want her to feel alone, and that will lead to more questions. It was easier to wall her out than to navigate how he felt about her. He remembered what she had said to him earlier in the observation deck—about how he was the only handsome guy on board. I’ll just bounce that energy back at her, he decided. “Because you’re the most beautiful girl on board.”

  Physically, she didn’t react to the statement. It took every fiber of her being to remain deadpan and poker-faced, but the words made her entire body feel weightless, as if she were about to float away. “You think I’m beautiful?”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s why I said you’re beautiful.”

  Without another word, she crawled across the bed and flopped her head into his lap, a faint smile curving her lips as she looked up at him before closing her eyes contentedly. I should probably shove her off and leave, he thought. It would prevent things from getting more complicated later. But he also just… didn’t want to. He’d be lying to himself if he pretended he didn’t enjoy the small level of affection she was showing him.

  He nudged her head, trying to gently move her off his lap, but she pushed back, keeping her head where it was. Her violet eyes shot open with agitation. “You need to get off. We can’t do this,” he said, nudging harder, but she refused to budge.

  “Why not?” she asked. He had expected her usual haughty anger, but instead, her voice sounded hurt.

  “Because you’re… you,” he said, scrambling to build on that. “Because you cause me problems. You had a big meltdown earlier, and I don’t think you’re good for me.”

  Her eyes squinted. “I love you. Please.” Her tone was… begging? That’s the first time I’ve ever heard her beg, he thought. She continued, her voice still pleading. “And you love me too.”

  He paused to consider her words, though he almost dismissed them outright. “Leonia, you’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met. You’re vain, erratic, reckless, and you’re always being a brat. Why would I love you? Be real.”

  How could I? he thought. That’s the problem. I do love her. Yes, she was all those things, but she was also fearless. She never backed down or let people walk all over her. She was more clever than most gave her credit for. She was more beautiful than anyone he’d ever seen, and the thought of her loneliness agitated him.

  “Love is just a chemical,” he said, and her eyes narrowed as she opened her mouth to argue. But before she could, he continued. “And your chemical floods my brain like pheromones, makes me forget that you’re like a walking warcrime, luring me to sleep. I can’t sleep any longer without a fresh injection. I’m too worried that if you’re alone, that will be the last time I taste it. I can smell its scent lingering in me, a part of me now, trying to find its way back to you, overwriting my ability to feel like myself without you.”

  She closed her eyes with a contented sigh. “I knew you loved me. I always knew you loved me.”

  “That’s not really what I said.” he countered, because, well, he really didn't see what he just said that could be even remotely thought of as romantic.

  “Yes, it is.” Her smile now covered her entire face as she closed her eyes. “There’s a little piece of me in you that always pulls you back to me.”

  “I didn’t want to love you,” he sighed. “I don’t believe there’s a happy ending for us.”

  She replied dismissively. “There isn’t. But without love, there’s no happy present for us either.”

  “It’s not gonna be happiness when we get hurt,” he countered.

  “Then we aren’t going to get hurt.” The amount of arrogant confidence she loaded into the response almost convinced him. Almost.

  They sat in silence as he waited for her to move, respond, or do something else. Instead, she nuzzled her head deeper into his lap, her blue-and-black lips keeping his attention on her face. He felt physically incapable of looking away.

  Finally she looked at him, a sing-song to her voice. “C’mon, Grumpy. Tell me a secret. I’ll trade you.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Like you have any secrets worth knowing.”

  A mock innocence filled her eyes. “I know where Garrett hides his spice. And which crewmate’s been stealing rations. And—” She leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, “—I can make stars dance.”

  He shook his head. “I don't do spice, I have a bad reaction to it and stars don't dance.” And I saw your eri-berry bar stash, you’re the one stealing rations.

  Her grin became manic. “They do if you dare them.”

  She began humming a song, her voice soft and airy, barely audible. Gazrael recognized the tune but couldn’t quite place it. Occasionally, she parted her lips to recite some of the lyrics. “A thing of beauty, my girl…”

  He looked up at the ceiling and gulped. There’s no turning back now, he thought. The other crew members will have noticed I haven’t left her room by now. They’ll spread rumors, ask awkward questions, and worst of all, Leonia now knows she can get me to do what she wants. His thoughts paused as he realized he had subconsciously started running his fingers through her dark, silver-streaked hair while he had been thinking.

  She’s got me hooked now, he thought, her smile seeming to imply she knew it too. How did I fuck up so badly to wind up hooked on the exact girl I didn’t want to get hooked on?

  ************

  So-mi had left the recreation room and returned to the engineering bay, now with added incentive to recheck everything the ship was equipped with using her datapad to check her notes.: 1. the main drive ,2. magnetic turbine noted as “sparking ominously”, 3. sublight drive noted as “whining like a gutran hound”, 4. sublight engines, 5. anti-shock field noted with “hasn’t “shocked” or “anti’d” anything in years”, 6. attitude thrusters, 7. hyperdrive noted with “still has my wrench stuck in there somewhere”, 8. proton generator” too much shit to work on alone, she thought.

  She needed to reevaluate the entire ship from top to bottom to make sure the dingy, outdated, and stripped-down corvette could operate like the warship it had been designed as hundreds of years ago. And that’s not even accounting for the six laser cannon emplacements, she thought bitterly. We’ve never even fired them. Who knows if they even work? There was also the bank where a light dual-barrel turbolaser should have sat. Unfortunately, they had stripped that system completely for more cargo space—not that they ever actually used the extra cargo space. Her cultural buns were growing increasingly disheveled, her blue skin increasingly covered with black grease and other dirt. She didn’t notice; this was her natural state. She usually felt most at home working on machinery.

  But her usual peace was spoiled today. The gravity of the question—What will be waiting for us when the ship finishes its current vector?—weighed heavily on her mind. She worked frantically, rushing back and forth, trying to make sure everything was accounted for. A sudden knock on the door broke her concentration, causing her to drop a plasma welder and spanner on the floor. “What the fuck do you want?” she snapped.

  The door hissed open, and Jerec stepped in, his blue Pantoran skin now an ugly shade of pink from the bruises Leonia had inflicted. “I was just… I was gonna ask if you need help,” he said nervously.

  “Do you know how to reset a hyperdrive?” she spat, her voice tinged with agitation.

  “No,” he replied, shrinking under her glare.

  “Can you check if the sublight thrusters are firing within acceptable parameters?” she asked, her annoyance growing.

  He timidly shook his head no.

  She exhaled sharply. “Then no, you can’t help.”

  She bent over to pick up her tools and continued her work, expecting him to leave. But he lingered. Of course he has nothing else to do, she thought bitterly. He’s supposed to handle all that cargo we never actually carry. She worked on, hoping he’d give up and find something else to do, but he kept watching her, studying her as if that might unlock a library of forgotten knowledge in his head that would suddenly make him useful.

  She sighed gently, trying to calm herself. He’s just trying to help, after all. She turned back to him. “Power up our laser cannons. Fire each set one by one. Let me know if any fail to fire or have a delay.”

  He saluted her and quickly made his exit, leaving her to—not peace, there was no peace in the stressful work conditions she was under—but at least he wouldn’t aggravate those conditions further. It was only a temporary solace, as he was quickly replaced by Garrett. Unlike Jerec, Garrett didn’t bother to knock. He just let the door hiss open, like he owned the place—which he technically did. But his deed to the ship didn’t exactly make him feel like the rightful owner of the engineering bay.

  “How’s everything coming along?” he asked, flashing her a shark-like smile. Ugh, I hate it when he tries to charm me, she thought. Unfortunately, anytime she was alone, he seemed to think that was the perfect time to be “smooth.”

  “How do you think it’s coming?” she shot back hotly, not letting his dumb smile charm her. “If you’re not going to help, then get out.”

  He feigned offense. “I can help. I’m actually quite a handyman.” He put emphasis on ‘handyman’ as if it were the most interesting and attractive thing in the universe to be.

  She snorted loudly and rolled her eyes. This is the first time I’ve even seen him in the engineering bay, and now he’s trying to claim he can be helpful? It was a ridiculous notion. The only person on this ship who had ever shown an inkling of understanding how the ship worked was Leonia, on account of her attending the Imperial Academy. And So-mi was not about to let that emotionally unbalanced freak anywhere near the hyperdrive or thrusters.

  Garrett persisted, though. “You still need to fire up the sublight thrusters, right? And run diagnostics on the magnetic turbine, right? I know how to do that.”

  So-mi shot him a look of disbelief. “And you never bothered to be useful before?”

  “Why would I have? I pay you to do this kind of stuff,” he stated bluntly, then continued, “Do you want the help or not?”

  “Fine,” she spat out, “but I’m going to double-check your work.”

  “And that’s exactly what makes you my star employee,” he countered. “You make sure everything gets done personally. You have genuine initiative.”

  “Do you ever stop?” She gestured at his smirk with a plasma torch. “That face’ll freeze that way. Then where’s your ‘handyman’ schtick?”

  “Not while I’m awake,” he replied, the forced smoothness in his tone making her skin crawl.

  “Well, it’s distracting. Keep your mouth shut while you’re in my engineering bay.”

  “You mean my enginee—” He cut the retort short as she glared daggers at him, silently getting to the work he’d promised to do.

  She returned to her work, still irritated that he’d come in trying to woo her. But there was a small relief that her workload was at least trimmed a little, with Garrett working on the thrusters and Jerec checking the ship’s weaponry. She needed to tighten several bolts on the hyperdrive. She reached for a wrench, clasped her fingers around it, and brought it into position. But as she began the task, she felt… tingly. For a moment, she couldn’t place why, but then she realized: This is the wrench I handed to Blender back on the wreck of #6. A small blush crept onto her cheeks as she realized Blender had actually brought the thing back with them. When I have time for a break, I’ll need to give it back to her so she can beat Blitzer with it, as intended. The thought of the blonde human seemed to bring her a little peace. She didn’t have time to reflect on why that was as she continued tightening the hyperdrive’s bolts, but it was a welcome change of pace from the stress she had felt moments earlier.

  *************

  On the bridge, the twins were getting ready to plot the ship’s new course. They plugged 6’s box into their bridge terminal, and just as Garrett had told Gazrael earlier, the box’s data immediately began to stream in. It would need some time to fully load, but there were no passwords or decryption required.

  Blitzer slumped into the pilot’s chair, boots propped on the console and steepled his fingers as he watched the data load. The data scrolled—endless strings of numbers. He groaned. “Of course it’s encrypted. Because why would the galaxy cut us a break?”

  “It’s not encrypted,” Blender said, shoving his boots off the panel. “Just formatted for droids. Which you’d know if you read the specs. Just plug the numbers into the star chart,” she began copying and pasting each line of numbers into the star chart one by one. Each entry lit up a point on the chart, slowly forming a trail. “I swear, I have to do everything on this bridge.”

  Blitzer watched her make the monotonous, repetitive motions. “You don’t do everything. While you were off playing explorer on some wreck, I had to run comms and the scanners.”

  “Oh yeah, you did so much help with that,” she countered, taking on a mocking tone. “‘Sorry, Captain, can’t get the comms to work. There’s some interference.’”

  “That wasn’t my fault,” he shot back, exasperated.

  “Did you even try figuring out what was going on?” She jabbed a finger at the static still flickering on the comm logs. “Or were you too busy streaming shockball highlights?”

  His jaw tightened. “I rerouted the entire array. Twice. While you were playing tomb raider in that wreck. I wasn’t just gonna leave you in the dark down there.”

  Blender glanced at him, and her expression softened. He’s right, she thought. He wouldn’t have done that to me. “I’m sorry,” she said, continuing the repetitive task. “I was being rude, and you didn’t deserve it. This situation is just… eating at me.”

  “It’s getting to me too,” he admitted, smirking as he tried to lighten the mood. “I’m too handsome to die out here, after all.”

  She rolled her eyes, but there was a slight tingle of amusement in her throat that threatened to make her giggle. “Okay, lady-killer. Go easy there, and save some girls for the rest of us.”

  “Do you think So-mi would like a guy lik—”

  She cut him off, shaking her head. “No, not a chance.”

  “Oh…” He didn’t sound disappointed or surprised, just humbled. “I guess I’m not too handsome to die out here, then.”

  Blender didn’t like the idea of him trying to hit on So-mi, especially with Leonia on board, craving every ounce of attention she could get.

  “That… reminds me,” she said, changing the subject. “What happened to your chin? That wasn’t there before I left.”

  Blitzer cupped the bruise. It had stopped hurting an hour or so ago, and he’d almost forgotten about it. “Oh, Leonia. She was having a tantrum.”

  “Second one today, huh?”

  He winced a little. “Yeah, second one today, from what I was hearing earlier. I’m not entirely innocent, though. I know I was pushing her. It’s just fun to push her sometimes.”

  Blender looked at him briefly, not really caring but trying to act interested. After all, whatever came next would contextualize her brother getting punched in the face. “How did you push her?”

  “Oh… called her Garrett’s whore. In fairness, I thought she was actually into him until she melted down at the thought of it.”

  Blender smirked a little. Blitzer and his legendary powers of charisma, she thought. Calling girls whores. Real smooth. “And what prompted that conversation?”

  “She thought the captain took you along to the wreck because he was trying to isolate you and talk to you alone… Her word choice was ‘creeping,’ but I assume that’s what she meant.”

  Blender went silent as she finally passed the last line of code from the box into their terminal. Now, she examined the trail it had created on the star chart—a series of little dots that left the galactic plane, ascended upward, then suddenly turned and descended back down before coming to a stop. Garrett’s behavior is off, she thought. He’s always trying to get me alone to talk about mundane things. It’s not professional. Then there was how So-mi had reacted when she mentioned Leonia and Garrett being a couple. But I need to focus on the work in front of me now. I have a trajectory to plot.

  She turned to Blitzer. “Well, we have our trajectory.”

  He held up his hand, stopping her. “That’s not right.”

  “What do you mean it’s not right? You just watched me enter the data myself.” She folded her arms, disliking the implication that she had done something wrong.

  “No, there was supposed to be a jump.” He analyzed the data and pointed to the first dots after #6 had initially started its descent. “The box wasn’t transmitting at this part of their trajectory.”

  “How do you know that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “You keeping secrets from me now?”

  He waved her concern away. “New Republic guy mentioned it. You weren’t on the bridge at the time.”

  She glanced at the data and repeated his motion, pointing at the set of dots he had gestured to. “These ones?”

  “Yes, those ones.”

  She huffed. “They could have just sent us the trajectory they plotted for the wreck instead of having us plot it out ourselves.”

  She drummed a staccato beat with her fingernails on the monitor while she thought, then snapped her fingers. “That’s it. That detail is important. The box has its own transmitter. To stop all transmissions from #6 to the New Republic, you wouldn’t just be able to shoot out their transmitter. You’d need a signal jammer to prevent the box from pinging as well. And even then, transmissions can still punch through the interference with a little luck and elbow grease.”

  Blitzer cocked an eyebrow. “The hole in that theory is that a signal jammer needs to be aimed and operated. You can’t just point at something and block all comms permanently. The interference was still present on the Silver Sparrow when we arrived, but there was no one scrambling our comms.”

  “Comms weren’t scrambled on the Silver Sparrow—well, not completely. At short range, our comms seemed to work fine, but as soon as we put any real distance between each other, they cut out.”

  He shook his head. “As if the interference was localized around the wreck and not targeted at the wreck.”

  “No, around the ship wouldn’t explain the on-board interference.” Blender frowned. “I’ve never heard of a signal jammer that operates that way.”

  “Well, it’s still the best idea we have for now,” he said with a shrug. “Unless there’s more evidence you haven’t shared with me.”

  She shook her head. “No, there wasn’t much evidence on the ship at all, to be honest. It was just a cold, creepy, empty charnel house.” She cocked her head. “Are we telling the rest of the crew?” she asked, studying his expression as he answered.

  “No… not until we have more proof. It’s a pretty far-fetched theory, practically speaking—that something was creating a bubble of interference around the wreck but not affecting the interior. You said it yourself: we’ve never heard of a signal jammer that works that way.”

  She nodded in agreement and turned away from the bridge terminal, flipping the PA on. “Captain, we’ve got our course plotted. I’d like you to come up and confirm it before we depart.”

  She turned back to Blitzer. “You didn’t deserve to get punched.”

  He smirked and held up his fingers. “Maybe I did, just a little bit.”

  Blender started straightening her hair. Garrett’s on his way, she thought, but she stopped mid-motion. Why am I straightening up for him? To look professional? He’s not professional. Then she remembered how So-mi had seemed to doubt that Garrett and Leonia were dating. Leonia tried attacking Garrett earlier. Her door locks from the outside so that she can’t wander when he doesn’t want her to. Why did I think they were dating? Was it just because Blitzer thought they were? If they’re not dating, does that mean I should be reading more into the private conversations Garrett keeps dragging me into? She finished straightening her hair, her mind racing, before undoing it and pulling it into a tight ponytail instead. Stupid, he doesn’t pay me to dress up like a doll for him.

  ***********

  Garrett had just barely finished checking the first few thrusters like he told So-mi he would when the call came over the PA. He heard So-mi exhale in frustration as she assumed his remaining workload would fall back on her again, but he got up, fiddling with the PA. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

  He glanced at So-mi, tempted to apologize for having to leave so soon, but he decided not to. Let her stew down here a little longer. He set his tools down, got to his feet, and walked out of the bay into the dim hallways. The door hissed open and shut behind him. He disliked walking through dingy, dark hallways alone and walked with a bounce in his step to try and shorten the time he’d spend in the oppressive silence. He had just reached the recreation room when the thought crossed his mind that he hadn’t seen Leonia in a few hours. That was unsurprising—she was supposed to be locked in her room—but where was Gazrael? A frown crossed his face as the idea suddenly struck him: Gazrael hadn’t left Leonia. They were alone in her quarters together.

  Professionally, he could not tolerate that. They had a job to do. But emotionally… a faint spark of jealousy ignited. This was HIS ship. Leonia’s quarters were HIS quarters. And she was… His thoughts trailed off, but the spark of jealousy grew into a proper fire. She was on his ship, under his command. She should be obeying him, respecting his wishes, not clinging to some deadbeat like Gazrael. The thought of her with Gazrael—her pale skin glowing in the soft purple light of her room, her violet eyes locked on Gazrael instead of him, Leonia’s laugh, soft and unguarded as Gazrael’s thumb brushed her cheek—made his stomach twist and fist clench. Last time he’d touched her, she’d bitten him hard enough to draw blood. Now she clung to Gazrael like a tooka in a thunderstorm. She is a Tarkin, a gem of the Empire, and she belonged to me, not some lowly security officer.

  He turned angrily to the elevator, his hand crashing against the button to open it and then again against the button for the second floor, where Leonia was quartered. The elevator opened, and he saw the door to Leonia’s quarters was ajar, a soft purple light spilling into the hallway. It confirmed his suspicion: Gazrael hadn’t locked her in like he’d been ordered to. He collected himself, determined to confront them calmly. He stepped forward until the interior of the quarters was visible through the doorway. Glancing in, he saw Leonia laying her head in Gazrael’s lap while Gazrael scrolled through a datapad. Garrett paused at the doorway and took a deep breath before interrupting them, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Crew’s prepping for death, and you’re… what? Playing house?”

  “Following orders. Sir.” The honorific dripped acid. Gazrael did not glance up as he spoke. “You said to lock her in her room, so I’m making sure she doesn’t leave.”

  Leonia’s eyes shot open, and she wrapped her arms tightly around Gazrael as if she expected Garrett to try and pry them apart. Garrett hadn’t felt anything seeing her lay her head in Gazrael’s lap, but that motion—that sudden clinging to Gazrael—got to him. She had never let him lay a finger on her, and now, as far as he could tell, all Gazrael had to do was reach out, and he’d have complete access to her. After everything Garrett had done for her—keeping her safe, giving her a place on his ship—this was how she repaid him? By getting with a deadbeat like Gazrael?

  “I don’t have time for this. Both of you, engineering bay, now.” He kept his tone professional, making sure his orders sounded like commands to work, not wanting any sign of his jealousy to show through. Gazrael might have been fooled—he had never cared enough to consider the delicate web of relationships his coworkers formed around him—but Leonia’s angry glare confirmed to Garrett that she knew exactly what his real problem was. She knew he wanted her, and she was flaunting her relationship with Gazrael to spite him.

  Leonia dropped the glare suddenly, testing the waters to see how well she could toy with him over this. She smirked and cooed, “So-mi wouldn’t like me being in there. She thinks I break things on purpose.”

  “Do you break things on purpose?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

  “Mmmm, no, but she doesn’t trust me.” The way she said it made him feel like he shouldn’t trust her either, and he knew he’d make the same determination if he were more clear-headed than he currently was.

  Gazrael shrugged, seemingly oblivious to the real tension that hung in the air. He gave his own excuse. “I don’t really know how anything in there works.”

  Garrett’s face contorted, and he shook his head. Just as he was thinking how much of a deadbeat Gazrael was, the man confirmed it for himself. As soon as this contract was up, Garrett was getting a new security officer—that was for sure. “Fine. Be useless. It’ll come out of your pay. Not like we’re not walking into a life-threatening situation or anything.”

  Gazrael looked down at Leonia and started prying himself free of her grasp. She was not making it easy, insistently clinging to him. Gazrael didn’t understand why she was being so persistent in not letting Garrett separate them. He shook his head at her, a single final warning that he was done with this moment, and looked up at Garrett. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ll go talk to So-mi, but let the record show I already told you she’s gonna turn my help away.”

  “That’s fine. Just stop being a deadweight,” Garrett countered before turning and returning to the elevator. He knew Leonia would follow Gazrael; he hadn’t really separated them. But perhaps he had gotten the message through to her: she would not be permitted to continue pursuing that relationship while she was under his roof and in his employ. Her life was his right now, and he wasn’t about to let some deadbeat security officer take what was rightfully his.

  The elevator opened, and he stepped out across the recreation room, hitting the controls for the door to the bridge. It hissed open, and he saw the twins standing in front of a monitor, tracing it with their arms. They seemed not to notice he was later than expected, which suited him well. He didn’t want them prying, especially Blender. She needed to think he only had eyes for her. He asked quickly, “Is that the course?”

  “Yes, Captain,” Blender said, saluting as she spoke. He stepped past her. He liked her attitude and that she actually gave him the respect he was due as the captain of the vessel. But that feeling quickly subsided as he looked at the simple curved line streaking up the screen. His face looked unimpressed. “You two felt the need to get my approval to follow this?”

  “Aye aye, sir,” she said again, and Blitzer cut in. “Stop addressing him like that. It’s weird.”

  Her face dropped as she shot her brother a stink eye. Garrett, too, did not appreciate Blitzer’s comment, but he’d let it slide for now. Blender returned her attention to Garrett. “We just assumed you’d want to know what route we were taking, in case you had any last-minute adjustments or if you wanted us to hit the same point in space from an alternate direction to flank the position.”

  “Great, awesome. Get to it, then. Straight shot. I don’t see the point in any unnecessary detours. Not like we have a scenic route we can follow out here.” He responded before turning to return to the engineering bay. This felt like a waste of time; they could have just said their course was set over the PA. He paused, though. “Blitzer, don’t be scolding your sister for referring to me the proper way. I’m the captain, remember?”

  He began doubling back to the engineering bay. He was tempted to double-check that Leonia and Gazrael had actually gone to work, but then again, if they had, he’d likely pass them as he returned. Going down the elevator again to find an empty room would be a waste of time. Besides, he had more important things to focus on—like ensuring that Leonia understood her place on his ship. She was his, and he wasn’t about to let anyone, especially Gazrael, take that away from him.