"If if did, I vote to rename it piece of shit..." Jinxy muttered under her breath, between bites of the mystery food. It wasn't the best, but it wasn't the worst.

"Also, thanks captain. I'll give you the grand tour once we're done with mystery meat," she added. She sighed a bit as they continued to eat. "So, have we figured out if there is anything useful on this ship yet? Because if we've found any mechanical parts, I'd like to call dibs... mostly to see if there is something I can use to fix this ship up a bit more," she said as an afterthought, also looking to keep the conversation going a bit.

Trish poked and prodded at her food, before finally taking a bite of the "meat". It wasn't great, but it wasn't bad either, certainly better than expected. And she was starving. So she began eating a bit more rapidly than one might assume, not rudely so, just a bit quicker. Pausing for a moment as the conversation moved along, "It's better than prison slop or the DA's protein rations."

Trish didn't know if the ship had a proper name, though she assumed it did. All ships had names. She hadn't taken the time to look at the hull nor the digital manifest at the door. As for giving anything they found to the mechanic, well, after Trish scoured for parts for her own work.

A small spike of pain dashed through her injured hand, and she dropped her fork, uttering a bit of a curse in a language she didn't know the name of, a habit from the days with her father. She flexed her hand painfully, inspecting to make sure it was still holding together. Satisfied enough, she resumed eating and listening to the conversation at hand, not really feeling the need to chime in more.

Victoria/Angel

Featuring: Trish

Starting to eat her food, Angel was impressed. It wasn’t a 5 star meal or anything, but certainly better than she’d expected. She ate as the conversation went along, feeling no need to get involved. Noticing Trish’s injured hand, concern flashed on her face briefly.

”Are you okay, Trish?” she asked.

Trish looked over at Angel, after finishing the bite she was on, smiling lightly, “I’ll be fine, I don’t think it cut too deep, and I scrubbed out what I could.”

Trish struggled to believe that anyone could have the contacts to truly delete the criminal records of her and the captain. Some things simply can’t be forgotten, only hidden for a time. Watching as the captain pushed his food out, she reached out and grabbed the plate. This was a habit from being on the run for so long, you take what you can get when you get it. Setting the plate down between her and Angel, she took half of what was left and put it on her own.

It seemed the captain’s previous orders of searching the ship had returned yet again. Trish assumed she’d actually have to be involved this time. And since she doubted a ship like this was hauling fuel or explosives, she decided that she’d rather try and find out the lesser known areas of the ship. And hey, if they found rats, that would actually be a bonus. Her father let her keep pet rats, until they used them to test out explosives, or deliver them. At least they had enough food to not have to eat them.

Since Angel had accompanied her on the escape, Trish decided to extend the offer of companionship once more. At least there was a small bit of trust therein, so looking over at the hooded woman, “Want to search the ship with me? Someone else can find the cargo.”

Angel nodded as she piled the extra food onto her plate, mildly surprised by the gesture. ”Sure, I don’t think there’s much else that needs doing at the moment that we can help with.” She had been nearly finished eating already, but now her plate was half full again. Trying not to eat like a pig while simultaneously not really caring isn’t the easiest of things. Shrugging, she continued eating.

Trish finished up her food, waiting as Angel did the same. She then stood, gathering up the empty plates, making her way over to the really, really unclean sink. In disgust, she dropped them in, making a note to come back and scrub this whole kitchen down later, cursing in her father’s language. She couldn’t stand slobs, it got people killed, accidentally. Turning back to Angel, she smiled, and nodded toward the door, before walking to and through it.

More talking to herself than Angel, “We should probably go nose to tail.” With that, she found herself leading the way toward the cockpit, noting that the pilot had not asked for an “off-limits” rule like the pesky mechanic. The ship wasn’t huge, and she was in need of some serious love and care. There were cobwebs, piles of dirt and grime, dented plates and rusted hinges everywhere. Trish knew that this would be taking up a lot of her spare time until she had the money and parts to get back into building explosives.

Pulling open the hatch to the cockpit, she just realized she’d been walking in silence despite her companion. Stepping aside as the door creaked open, she looked at Angel, “She’s a little beat up, but I think she’ll do just fine. Sort of like how the rest of us are. Right?”

Angel nodded. ”Sounds about right. A druggie, a… clean freak, I suspect?” she guessed, noticing the disgust she’d displayed upon seeing the state of the sink, and the way she looked at every imperfection. “Anyways, yeah, we could all use some work, I guess. Only fitting that we get an equally beat up ship to match,” she added with a small smile.

Entering the cockpit, it was obviously empty – the pilot was off doing who-knows-what, and no one else had much reason to be lounging around the cockpit at the moment. The room wasn’t as dirty as the hall had been, although it could still probably use some work (like everything else). It’s not a huge surprise; navigating through the universe is a precise business, if you find yourself off course by a fraction of a degree you can find yourself creating a crater in a planet, or melting inside a star. So pilots are typically a bit more perfectionist than other crewmembers might be, and the state of the cockpit was evidence of that.

Trish stepped in behind Angel, getting her first look at the cockpit, before stating what had kept her from searching earlier. “I don’t really know what we’re looking for exactly. Do you?”

”Nope. Not a clue,” Angel sighed. ”I was busy sleeping. Y’know, lifting you is pretty tiring,” she laughed.

Trish chuckled as well, moving away from the console toward the back of the cockpit, to a few of the smaller storage areas. She opened the first, finding replacement knobs and switches for the dash, and closed it back, though remembering that it was there. They could be useful one day. She continued opening and closing hatches, not finding much of interest; work gloves which she pocketed, a magazine of naked women that she left, and a pair of goggles. The rest was stuff that seemed somewhat essential to the cockpit. Goggles in hand, she turned to Angel, “Find any rats or stowaways? Or just junk like me?”

Angel shook her head. ”Just junk,” she agreed. ”Shall we continue on our tour? Hopefully some of the other rooms are more interesting. I wonder what the commons are like.” Opening the other door out of the cockpit, she stepped aside to let Trish take the lead again.

Trish could only assume the commons area was back behind the mess, where most were. It was pretty standard to separate dorms and the mess and common area either side by side or top and bottom. They hadn’t passed any hatches built into the walls on the way up, and didn’t now on the second path back. “It would be mighty embarrassing if some of these panels are smugglers’ holds. But we’ll leave those to the captain, that’s more up his alley.”

They continued past the opposite side of the mess from where they’d exited and came upon the hatch to the commons area. Trish noticed this one didn’t have an electric pad like the cockpit did, even though the pilot had left that opened. It had a manual turn handle. Trish strained against it to no avail, trying one more time before kicking the damn thing. She tried to peer in but the window was glazed over from grime.

”Here, let me, before you break something,” Angel offered. She didn’t even bother to attempt doing it by hand – if Trish couldn’t, she had no doubts that she would fail as well. Instead, she forced the handle to turn mentally. It struggled against her, but eventually surrendered to her, swinging open all at once. Screw the old-fashioned way.

“Hopefully that was easier than lifting my ass, can’t have you taking a nap all the time,” she said smirking at Angel. Pulling the door open, she stepped inside. Like most of the rest of the ship, it was a mess, but it had a few couches, a bar, and some sort of green felt table that Trish hadn’t seen before. There was also a bookshelf with various books and electronics on it, and a few cabinets and such strewn at random around the room. Trish moved herself over to the odd looking table, finding it had holes with baskets underneath in the sides and corners. In these baskets were multicolored balls. She plucked one out, feeling its weight, “What is this table?” more to herself than Angel.

Putting the ball down on the felt surface, she moved around the room slowly, finding several things her previous ships didn’t have and that she’d not seen, including some colorful box labeled Candyland. Realizing how much they had to go through, “So how does your Psyche thing work? I only know the rumors and stuff, but you’re the first I’ve met, that admitted it at least.”

”Aww, why not?” she mock pouted at the thought of not getting to nap as she plopped herself down onto a couch. ”Well, as you all have probably guessed – and I’ve admitted to, really – I have plenty of drugs in my system. Well, Psyche is no different from any other drug; load up a needle, inject it, and you’re good for a few years. Most people don’t ever use more than that, because it sure isn’t cheap, and there are… uh, consequences. But... “ she trailed off, sighing. ”So obviously my abilities are more… extreme, than most people’s are. But, as I said, there are consequences.” she finished grimly. ”So how about you? Where’d you learn your trade?” Angel asked, hardly hiding the change of subject.

Trish was rifling through a cabinet full of spare gun parts and clips, though no actual guns were inside. She was never really fond of guns, nor really good at using them, listening to Angel speak. So this drug not only got the user high, but also gave powers. Who would, or even could, make such a thing? “My… father taught me how to make explosives. He was part of the Defective Alliance before his injuries. That’s when he passed his trade onto me. Every day and night that’s what he taught me, up until the day he died. Been on my own most of the time since then.” Her eyes glazed over a bit as she remembered all the things she’d left out. This was a fairly pleasant time, and there was no need to be dredging up that shit right now, or ever really.

Rummaging through a cabinet filled with clothes, mostly men’s that were much larger than her, she had considered asking Angel about where she’d come from, and why she was on her own at such a seemingly young age, but knew that to be a silly endeavor. She wouldn’t talk about her own origins, and had been on her own at a younger time. Grabbing what appeared to be an old fashioned boombox from the shelves, and sat on the couch next to her, pulling out her multi-tool. But eventually curiosity got the best of her, “So what is your trade? Lifting women and knocking out guards?”

”Umm…” Angel could feel herself beginning to blushing, looking down. ”Just whatever I can, I guess. Protect some smugglers here, collect a payment there… plenty of jobs that I’m able to make short work of.” She felt bad for lying to Trish, since she seemed nice and was probably the only person on this crew close to being a friend. Still, there was no chance that she would reveal such things. Not yet, at least.

Trish caught sight of the blush, but didn’t push the matter. They all had secrets and they all had shame. She started fiddling with the boombox. Pulling out the battery pack, which had been rigged to work in this ancient device, she tested it to her tool. It still had plenty of juice, so she replaced it, pressing buttons but finding no sound coming out. In a matter of seconds she had the casing off and was inspecting the interior wiring. When she finally found the issue inside, simply a few disconnects, she got them reconnected and coated, when her mouth just started spewing once more, as it had done with the captain earlier. “Does it bother you when you kill people? I saw how you reacted to my plan in the bar before our escape.”

”Innocent lives, children, and so on… I do my best to keep them out of risk. That’s why I was against your plan. Even if it didn’t kill anyone immediately, it almost certainly wouldn’t have ended well for everyone. Corrupt guards and the like, however; I don’t have any particular qualms with them. I dunno, I’ve never thought about it." Realizing that the blushing had stopped, she looked back at Trish, glad that she hadn’t push the subject. ”Why do you ask? Got something on your mind?" she asked as she watched her work on the boombox with mild interest.

Trish continued her inspection, just ensuring nothing else was wrong. She couldn’t necessarily argue with Angel’s logic, though one could say that guards are innocent as well. But, “I wish I felt bad for it. I really find myself wanting to feel bad. It just doesn’t happen. I do my job right, people die. I do it wrong, more people, or myself, die.” She put the casing back on, pressed a few buttons, twisted a knob, and with one final press, music began blaring out of the box, watching the wheels turn on the cassette tape inside. She didn’t know the song, but it was Free Bird. She turned down the volume a bit, satisfied that she’d managed something useful with her hands.

“It will all catch up to me one day I suppose. Until then, I’ll just keep running until it does, or I finally throw in the towel.“ She looked over at Angel now, a bit sheepish, having shared that, voluntarily, unlike the previous conversation with the captain.

Angel nodded. ”You can’t really win, can you? With what you do. I guess, as they say, the only winning move is not to play. Or at least the lesser of two evils, whenever possible.” She resisted the urge to bob her head to the song, which she was surprised that she recognized, although her foot began tapping lightly in spite of herself.

“Not playing means death for me, or Deadlock, which is pretty much the same thing. Besides, I don’t really know anything else, this has been my life since shortly after I could walk. Just jumping from one level of hell to another, wondering when one will finally claim me.” Trish leaned back into the cushion of the couch, trying to relax a bit after this, smiling as she watched Angels body move lightly, feeling the tapping of her feet. “You know it? I don’t, but it sounds like what my neighbor would play from time to time.”

”Yeah, it’s old. Like, Earth old. I don’t know where I’ve heard it, but I do recognize it. Free Bird, by Lynyrd Skynyrd.” A moment later, she added, ”It’s a weird name, but a good song.”
Trish chuckled at a thought, “Maybe that’s what we should name our new ship then.” Trish had always wondered what Earth was like, she’d only heard stories of the old Earth days, but she didn’t even know what it was like now. Probably crap like the rest of the verse. Running through her mental checklist, since they were, in fact, on an assignment, all that was left were the personal dorms, which really, were to each their own, and cargo. Cargo could definitely wait. Satisfied that they were where they belonged, Trish stood up and made her way over to another cabinet that she hadn’t yet checked. “So what do you do when not working?” She didn’t want to be rude like the captain’s comment about Angel’s drug use, but she hoped to get an answer different from it.

”Well, probably pretty close to what you imagine, honestly. I don’t usually socialize very often.” Until now. Angel stretched her arms absentmindedly, looking out the small window into the deep vastness of space. All this space, in a giant universe, and here she was doing absolutely nothing with her life. Wasting it, really. She sighed, looking around the room at the various cabinets and shelves.

Trish couldn’t help but smile, it was nice talking to someone, outside of business. It had been quite a while since she had anything remotely this nice. This cabinet was filled with a bunch of seemingly useless figurines, creatures she didn’t recognize nor thought were real, as well as a bunch of spare sheets and pillows. Seeing no other cabinets, she moved over to Angel, slipping in just behind her, looking over her shoulder, “Hopefully you have something good here,” one of her hands resting on the woman’s shoulder, gently, to provide just that much more leverage to see.

The contact surprised Angel, but she didn’t move away. Looking up at Trish standing behind her. ”What do you mean?” she asked, curiously.

Trish peered into the back corner of the cabinet, almost certain at what she thought she saw, moving even closer, squinting for a better look, “Just something interesting. don’t know what half this junk is, and the other half is sundries and such.” She was almost certain of what she saw now. “I think that’s a grenade there in the corner.” Scooting her body closely, passing Angel, she reached in and grabbed it. It was far too heavy to be a grenade, but she held it up to the light, unaware of her extreme proximity to Angel. It was just a carving of one. She sighed, disappointed. More junk. “False alarm.”

Angel stood up, standing next to Trish to have a look herself. ”Why would someone want a carving of a grenade? It seems a bit odd, especially to just keep stashed in a cabinet,” she thought aloud. ”I wonder what other stupid things they have hidden around the ship. You’d think there would be some reason to have some of this stuff, but I can’t think of any reason.” She looked through the cabinet quickly, but the grenade carving was definitely the most random thing to be found inside. Everything else, although junk, had a fairly obvious purpose. The grenade, however, stumped her.

If Angel didn’t know, Trish sure as space shingles didn’t know. But she kind of liked the little thing. “I think I’ll keep it. No decorations in my room anyways.” She was a bit excited at the thought, and turned, finding her face uncomfortably close to Angel’s, which immediately elicited a deep blush from Trish. Stuttering but getting no words out, she quickly ducked past the woman, making way for the other hatch. And of course the bloody thing wouldn’t open. Embarrassment abound, Trish turned, knuckles white as she gripped the “grenade,” she wanted to say something, to apologize or something. But no words came out. And since her attempt to flee had failed, and trying for the other door would just look foolish, she just moved to the couch and plopped down. She tried to look as if she were focusing on the statue, as the cassette switched to Dream On, yet another song Trish didn’t know.

Angel had to show a good amount of restraint to prevent herself from reacting to Trish’s actions in any way. ”Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she apologized as she sat back down on the couch as well, making sure to not be too close. ”Oh, right…” she mumbled as she remembered that the other door was jammed like the first one, forcing it loose as she did with the first one. Unfortunately, she had no idea what this new song was, but it seemed decent enough.

Trish looked in Angel’s direction, face still flush, unable to meet her eyes, just as she hadn’t with the captain earlier. “You didn.. I di… It’s fine.” Trish wasn’t even sure why she’d acted like that, it wasn’t like her at all. Now it seemed she’d mucked up the pleasantness of the atmosphere, “Maybe we should check the unclaimed rooms, just in case. I can drop off a few of these things I’ve found.” She really wished she could meet Angel’s eyes as she spoke to her, but simply couldn’t. Like most bombers, she was a coward it seemed.

Angel nodded, which she noticed she’d been doing quite a bit throughout their conversation. She was a bit disappointed that the conversation had ended so abruptly, but it had to eventually. ”Right, the rooms are the last place we haven’t checked. Well, besides the cargo hold, but that can wait.” She stood up first, leading the way this time, so that Trish wouldn’t have to walk past her, clearly embarrassed by the sudden turn of events. Her thoughtfulness was rather surprising to her, but she stuck with it, waiting at the door for Trish to follow.

Trish nodded, watching as Angel led the way, rising to join her. She consciously kept her distance, letting Angel lead her down the corridor. Deciding to stop at her room first, not sure who belonged to which other rooms. She hummed the song that she remembered from her youth, that inspired her pin, 8-6-7-5-3-0-9, hearing the hiss of the door. Slipping inside, she deposited her new belongings on her bed before making her way back out.

“Uh… do you know who’s where?”

”No idea,” Angel replied. ”This one’s mine,” she pointed at the room in question, coincidentally opposite Trish’s, ”But I dunno where the others are, if any of them have even picked one yet.”

“The pin on mine had been reset when I claimed it, so I guess any with no pin are still open, and should be searched.” She moved to the one directly next to hers, hit the console and it opened immediately. Unlike her room, this one wasn’t spartan, but rather ornately decorated. Silks and fancy blankets and sheets and chairs and pillows were everywhere. If anyone else had found this room, they’d immediately recognize it as a courtesan’s room, but Trish did not. She was glad she didn’t pick this one, that would be a lot of crap to move out. With the work she did, she didn’t need a bunch of fire hazards. With a single ”Huh?" There was a single, darkwood cabinet that had a bunch of… things Trish didn’t really recognize. Perhaps climbing gear or something, straps and clips and such. She continued moving through the room, finding many unknown items, none of which interested her. Stepping out into the corridor, ”Clear.”

Angel nodded, opening the next one. It seemed pretty generic, like her own room. Probably just another lesser crew member’s sleeping quarters. The next one appeared to be similar at first glance, but a closer examination revealed that it wasn’t nearly as bland as the previous one, despite likely having started that way. Slightly nicer looking sheets and marginally fluffier looking pillows indicated that the room’s former resident held some degree of status on the ship, as did the few pieces of artwork that adorned the walls (although to her very untrained eye they seemed quite unremarkable). Whoever ended up with this room would probably be fairly comfortable, but nobody was hiding there currently. Besides the conversations, the search had overall been rather dull. Perhaps the cargo hold held more interesting secrets, though unless someone else took it upon themselves to check through there, it probably wouldn’t get done for now.

Moving to the final room, Trish found the entry pad not lit up and sighed. Just how much crap was broken on this ship? Pulling out her multi-tool yet again, she was going to unscrew the plate only to find the magnetic screws stripped along the threading, forever turning in place but never coming free. Annoyed she hit it with the tool, and the door just slid open. Sighing, she never understood why hitting stuff worked so often. Peering in, this room barely even looked to be a quarters. Sure there was a bed, but for the most part it was empty, as if no one had been in there for years. Maybe no one had gotten the door open, but Trish did a quick search and ducked out before the dust sent her into fits.

”All good in there as well."

She really didn’t want to lug around crates and other likely useless things, so she stood there awkwardly in the corridor with Angel. She had no suggestions for what was next, but she could feel the wear of the day starting to hit her. Not everyone had managed to sneak in a nap. “I think I’m going to get some shuteye, unless you can think of anywhere else to search?”

She partially wanted Angel to have an idea for elsewhere, just so they could continue talking, but at the same time just wanted to sleep and put the majority of this day behind her. Turning toward her own room, she glanced over her shoulder at Angel, meeting her eyes this time, “Goodnight Angel.” Humming as she punched her pin in, slipping inside, a sigh escaping through her teeth, leaning against her now closed door. A grin had snuck on her face, for reasons she didn’t realize. Perhaps she would like this crew as she had her last one. Or at least one member among it. She made her way into bed, hoping her nightmares didn’t come tonight, for she just wanted to rest, and not disturb the unlucky person that ended up as her neighbor.

”Night Trish,” Angel replied, smiling. Honestly she wasn’t too tired yet and wouldn’t mind hanging out a bit longer, but if Trish was tired then there was nothing for it. She began to open her mouth to say something, but Trish entered her room before she could get a word out, closing the door behind her. But it was probably for the best that she had; Angel might have regretted it. In fact, she was sure she would regret it, she tried to persuade herself. Yet, for some reason, she wasn’t quite convinced. Sighing, she turned and opened her own door, walking inside.

Call me Victoria.

Jinxy had gone back to the engine room after dinner, if one could call what they ate dinner. However, it was way better than prison food, so it had that going for it. She paused as she looked around the engine room and sighed. She picked back up her coveralls and put them on, tying the top part around her waist. It was a bit hot in the engine room, and she was already working up a sweat.

She got under the main engine, hoping to get some things worked out with a few parts before the captain walked into talk with her. She sighed to herself. Engines and machines she knew well, but people? People are hard.

“Knock knock,” said a voice from the doorway. Amir grimaced at the rust obvious on the protective railing. Tying his hair up with a rubber band and wiping away the trickle of sweat running down the back of his neck, he stepped down towards the engine and the boots he could see peeking out from underneath. “So – a tour, Jinxy?”

Jinxy pulled herself out from under the engine and looked at Amir and smirked. “Welcome to hell captain. Certainly is hot enough to be hell. And also all the work that needs done… well... “ She sighed. “As you heard earlier, I had to break one of the engines to get her to not lull, but that is only because I couldn’t find enough parts here to fix the broken one. Anyways, as for the tour, we’ll start here, with this... “ She paused. “Its a piece of shit. We managed to find one of the oldest ships in port I think, and whoever owned her before wasn’t keeping her up to date. Some of it was being held together by chewing gum!” She shivered a bit. It had not been fun trying to pull those awful things out of the parts they were holding together and just fix the ship.

“So beyond that, we now have both the left and right engine broken, and I do apologize for the wrench sticking out of one of them. That was all me,” she said, looking a bit sheepish at that.

Amir, to his credit, looked completely unperturbed by the knowledge they were in a junker in worse condition than they had imagined, inspecting the engines with an untrained eye. “So long as she gets us to Oberon and we don’t blow up entering her atmo.” He crouched down to get a better view of the remnants of the bubble gum, reaching out to scrape a bit off with a snort of laughter. “Is it worth keeping her, do you think? None of us are particularly attached at present, and if she ain’t good to fly...”

Jinxy had to smirk a bit. “If I get the right parts and a few days with her alone, I can get her in a better condition than she was when she was new. However, that is up to you. We can ditch her if you don’t think that’s worth the effort…” She trailed off a bit as she noticed his arm. “Is that a Hunter mechanical arm. However, it’s a bit out of date I would think. That was the free insurance model…” She walked over and looked at it, the best she could without getting in his personal space. “However, there are some very nice modifications made to it… “ She paused and looked at him and then blushed. “Sorry… uh… I have issues and sometimes those issues include remembering that people have personal space and the like…” She looked away, suddenly shy.

“S’all right. Nothing unusual to me,” Amir said with a shrug. He held out his arm, palm up. The strip of fake flesh, barcode included, stood out in stark contrast to the mess of metal and wires that made up the limb. “It’s must be fifteen years old by now, and it was outdated to begin with.” The captain smirked. “You look like you want to dissect it, or whatever the techie equivalent is. I’ll take it off, if you want, but usually it takes dinner and a date for that.”

She smirked. “Oh trust me captain, if we had dinner and a date, I’d want you to keep it on,” she said and looked at him, giving a wink. “However, if you ever want me to give it a bit of a tune up, I’d be more than happy to. Tinkering with mechanical limbs is a bit of a hobby, on top of fixing engines. Wouldn’t want it to give out on you in the middle of something… interesting,” she said.

She coughed and composed herself a bit. “Shall we get back to the engine tour I promised ya? Or have you seen enough of this mess to want to get out of here and just ditch this rust bucket once we get to Oberon?” She said, leaning against a wall and looking at him. She did look him over a bit, wondering what he was thinking. She realized the top of her chest tattoo was peeping up from under her tank, and she tugged it up a bit.

“It’ll take more than that to make me blush, Jinxy,” Amir said with a raised eyebrow, straightening up after one last glance at the hopeless engine. “And, it just so happens that I’ve got a thing for the underdog ships like this girl.” He hit one of the metal support beams in a gesture of camaraderie, only to wince when it creaked and groaned. “I’m guessing the worst is still to come?”

Jinxy smirked. “Trust me, I have yet to try to make you blush, Captain. But yes, the worst is still to come. However, I’ll do what I can to fix her up when we get some time and parts. However, if I do find something that is a bit more alarming than a few support beams groaning, I will let you know that we need to abandon ship, and hopefully before we leave Oberon,” she said, the smirk gone. She sighed. She hadn’t even thought about a few of the other systems the ship would need to operate, and had yet checked them.

“Make sure she’s in tip-top shape for leaving orbit, that’s all I ask. Everything from Life Support to – making sure there’s no weird noises when she moves.” Amir said. “I know a couple of guys – Waegu – who run shops on Oberon. Hopefully they’ll give us a discount for old times sake.”

She frowned a bit. “Waegu huh? I’ll pass on stopping by the shop,” she said. “Gotta ask… are you currently… y’know?” She asked, crossing her arms in front of herself.

Amir shook his head, a small smile born out of nervousness crossing his face. “Former. Former big-shot, I should add – if that’s a problem..?”

Jinxy let out a small sigh of relief. “No, no problem if its former. Anyways, I’ll make sure everything is in tip-top before we leave Oberon. We’ll get there fine, but nothing too much further than that,” she said looking at him.

“Right on,” Amir let out a breath he must have been holding and stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets. “Compile a list of the parts you definitely need – I’ll take… maybe, Angel out shopping instead. Girls like shopping, or so I’ve heard.” He turned to leave, hopping up the step that led up to the main body of the ship. “Unless there’s anything else..?”

“If you’re ever serious about that date, you know where to find me,” Jinxy added with a wink and waited to see what Amir’s response would be.

“There’s much, much better places than Oberon out there in the ‘Verse for a date. I’ll let you know if we stop on one of them.” The corner of his lip turned up into a smirk and with one waggled eyebrow he turned on his heel and left.

Jinxy chuckled to herself and smiled, and then realized she was actually blushing! “Augh, put those thoughts out of mind, we got work to do!” She said to herself and went back under the engine, humming to herself as she tried to scrape more gum off of it.

Beth with special guest Harper

Beth finished her meal in relative silence, mostly just enjoying the presence of people, that were neither related or trying to kill her, or even both. The ‘both’ was a bit too common for Beth’s tastes.

Beth had sent her cousin a wave shortly after the meeting with Amir. She expected he wouldn’t respond till morning. Walt wasn’t the most prompt of responders. She could only hope he’d respond before they landed. That’d be awkward, and probably would end up with her getting shot again. Something she had no desire to repeat.

She excused herself with a nod and made her way to where the barracks were. She found a room without a name tag that matched any of the people she knew the names of.

---

Harper lay stretched out on the single bed in the room he had claimed as his own on the old junker of a ship. He had been lucky enough to slip on almost immediately after the crew went station side for drinks and find an empty room to lock himself in until they got to the next planet or station. Currently, his VI was watching the door while running all of his lockdown programs to keep anyone out of the room.

In the midst of playing some old platformer game he had managed to upload onto his datapad, the face of his VI popped up onto the screen, causing him to die and lose a life.

“Aw… Higgins, you made me die,” Harper pouted.

“Terribly sorry sir, but it would appear the ship’s crew has come back and have just finished dinner. They are wandering the ship now.”

Harper stared at the projected face of his virtual friend for a moment, turning the information over in his head. He knew he was safe inside the room, as he had put multiple lockdown programs on the door, so unless they had a hacker onboard they wouldn’t be getting in. Then again, they could always slice the door open with tools.

“Right. Higgins, just to be safe have these programs ready to launch on the cargo bay doors,” Harper instructed the VI as he tapped away on his datapad and linked his friend into the designated doors. After Higgins was securely linked to the cargo bay doors, Harper used his datapad to hack into the ship’s security cams and linked them to his bionic eyes so that it was as if he was the ship’s eyes now. He flipped between the cams, looking into each room he could and spotting the crew members until he came to the hall outside his room and spotted the woman making her way toward him.

---

Beth reached out and tried the handle of the room door. Nothing happened. Then the door gave off an angry buzz as a small red smileyface appeared on the data screen with its tongue stuck out. She frowned and stuck out her own tongue at the face.

“What the hell; let me in. Your old tenant is gone jībā.” Beth tried the door again. The same noise and face occurred upon her second attempt. “Seriously I shoot open the lock.” Beth reached for the gun she had collected from the guards. As she reached for her gun, a small purple projection of a stereotypical British butler appeared on the screen.

“You may want to reconsider that course of action, Miss,” the VI spoke in its old British accent.

“You want to reconsider your face.” She glared.

“My face was programmed by my creator and can only be reconsidered by him,” the VI replied with just a hint of offense.

“Well your creator is left on station, so you might just want to reconsider -” Beth was cut off by another voice.

“Yeah. I put a lot of work into how Higgins looks.” Beth cocked an eyebrow at the projection.

“Right, great.” She sighed, “Of course there is someone on the ship, because nothing can go off without a hitch.”

“Well, you should have made your ship harder to hack into instead of galavanting off for drinks. All I had to do to get on was a simple system reset,” the new voice replied.

“If it had been harder I wouldn’t be here.” Beth scoffed. “Look... Oh, you have got to be kidding me. You’re a stowaway.”

“Are you saying you’re not part of the original crew then,” the voice came back puzzled now.

“Not for this ship. I’ve never been on it before today.” Beth crossed her arms and looked at the projection. “So, you’re not part of the original crew and I’m not part of the original crew. Did you miss all the guys scanning for the terrorist back at the station?”

“I scrambled their scanners long enough to sneak onto the first ship I saw. I figured it was best to get off station though before they eventually came down on me. What about you? What’s your story?”

“That’s a long story.” Beth shook her head. “But we stole the ship to escape the station, so good news I guess we aren’t at the station anymore. Bad news is I’ve got to tell the new captain that we’ve got a guest.”

“Right… I was afraid of that. Well, just to be safe, Higgins do your thing,” at his words the purple butler vanished from the screen and zipped away to carry out its creator’s orders.

Beth reached out for the nearest transmitter. “Hey Capt’n, got some news for ya. There’s a stowaway.” She released the button.

“I prefer refugee. Stowaway is an ugly word,” his voice broke out over the same comm channel.

“Seriously. I think you underestimate who you’re dealing with.”

“I have no clue who I’m dealing with, so that’s likely, but the same can be said for you,” he replied as the safety doors in the hall closed with a clang and a hiss of pressurising air.

“What are you doing?” Beth turned toward the sound of the doors.

“Making sure I’m not underestimated while securing my own safety.”

“You plan on flying this ship?” Beth put her hands on her hips.

“If this ship has an autopilot, I could replace it with Higgins and have him fly it maybe,” the voice trailed off.

“You plan on making all the necessary repairs the ship needs to keep in the air. Let me tell you, I bet you could hear the captain and Jinxy talking about all the issues the engine has.”

“I could, and I have no clue how to repair a ship, but at the moment I’m more concerned with not getting shot by your captain, so as soon as he guarantees my safety I’ll lift the safety doors no problem. You’re all criminals, you understand.”

“So are you.” Beth snapped back.

“I never said I wasn’t. I’m just an unorthodox criminal.”

Beth snorted again. “Yeah welcome to the club.” There was enough colorful entries in her record, and even more entries that had never made it - She bit back the though.

“Do I get a club jacket? No… never mind. I’m too fond of mine.”

“We have pins too.” Beth retorted sarcastically.

“I can fit a pin on my jacket.”

“Right, all right it seems like you’ve got some useful skills, probably ones we’re missing in our ragtag and very badly thrown together group. I can give you a reference to the captain.” Beth sighed, she did not want to die.

“Fair enough. I’ll lift the doors when he comes by and promises not to shoot me.”

“Fair enough.” Beth shrugged and pressed the com again. “Capt’n, you may want to interview our new refugee.”

The comm crackled and this time it was the captain’s voice. “Sure, I’ll be there soon.” His voice raised a bit at the end as if he was uncertain.

”There the captain is on his way.” Beth leaned against the rail.

Her eyes fluttered open, surprised to find herself alive. The last thing she remembered was the the crew quarters filling with water, and… and his eyes as the light left them, his final breaths forced from his lungs. She tried to sit up, finding herself restrained, and cold. Looking down her body, she saw that she was restrained to a table by magnetic straps, nothing but a thin, papery robe for clothing. Trish tried to speak, but found her throat incredibly sore and swollen.

“Ah, the terrorist awakes.”

Trish tried to look at the source of the deep, cold, male voice, but couldn’t find the source.

”We’ll fix that throat of yours up here in a bit. Drowning can really do a number on you. We’re lucky you lived. All that information you know would’ve died with you and your shipmates. Can’t have that now can we?”

She heard a hiss as a door formed in a wall, and a large man stepped through. He held something that looked similar to her own multi-tool, and a sinister grin upon his face.

“Now, since you can’t talk, let’s consider the next few hours a sort of… warm up. This is how we will get to know each other. Trust me, Katrishka, we will know each other very, very intimately.”

The use of her real name shocked her, and brought back memories of her father, and the mother that never existed. She’d never used that name. Only her father did, after he sobered up the next day and decided to apologize for his monstrousness. She hated that name, the one from her mother’s people. It was everything that made her weak. Already her body was shivering, her eyes shaking in fear as she looked at the new monster before her.

”Well now, that got quite the reaction out of you. Good, that means you know this is all quite serious.”

He walked over to her table, her eyes never leaving his, noting how looked at her like both a game and a meal. Holding up his tool, he adjusted a couple of settings, settling on one that ended in a very fine needle.

“Let’s start off easy.”

He loosed one of the straps restraining an arm, which he held in an iron grip. He brought it up in front of Trish’s face, so she could easily see what he was about to do. He stuck the needle in her wrist with the precision of a skilled surgeon, barely more than a pinch.

“This is a fun little thing. I’ve just inserted this needle directly into the nerve. With it, I can make you feel literally anything. Though, because of the area, it will be localized to your forearm. All the pain, none of the mess.”
He started turning a small dial, and Trish felt an odd… itchy, tingly sensation, moving in her arm. As he increased the dial, it began feeling as if something was crawling around within it, another turn, as if it were burrowing, eating its way through her. That’s when the muffled screams started, Trish ignoring the pain of her damaged throat.

Trish awoke, covered in sweat, screaming, awake for real this time. She pulled her knees to her chest, sobbing, rocking lightly, trying to focus her mind on something else, to calm herself. It took her a while, but she managed, and quickly realized that getting back to sleep would be damn near impossible. She’d been having this nightmare, this… memory for a while now, and finally decided to put a plan in place so she’d never experience that again. But for that, she needed to collect some parts. She tried to remember back to earlier in the evening, when her and Angel had explored the ship, thinking of what she’d need. Most of it could be found from fairly innocuous items, but two bits would need a bit of extra searching.

And one of those was in the off limits engine room. She needed fuel.

She got up and got dressed, and slipped out into the hallway. Considering knocking on Angel’s room passed through her mind, but decided this was best done alone. She was about to turn toward the engine room, when she realized there was a measurement she’d never taken. Pulling out her multi-tool, she set it to her digital calipers. She pulled her shirt up above her midriff, and sucked in her already too thin stomach, to make her lower ribs stand out that much more. She quickly began measuring the widths of the ribs on her right side, the distance between them, their curvatures, and everything else she’d need to know, paying no mind to the fact she was still in the middle of the quarters corridor.

“What the hell are you doing?” Came a voice from down the corridor. When Trish turned to look, it was Jinxy, who had her arms crossed over her chest. “Are you… seriously measuring yourself?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Trish started at the sudden, seemingly cross interruption. She looked up to see probably the one person that would make this endeavor of hers near impossible, though Amir and the pilot would likely be equally difficult. No point in lying, but that didn’t mean she had to tell everything, ”Yes, specifically my ribs. What brings you outta the ship’s death trap?” She hoped that this would dissuade her from asking more on the subject, acting as if this was normal and such.

“Heard we had a guest, and I wanted to make friends,” Jinxy said, and Trish couldn’t tell if she was serious or not. “Also, I got thirsty. The ‘death trap’ as you put it is quite hot. I’ve been sweating since I started work on it. So besides measuring your ribs, what are you doing here?” She said, leaning up against the wall, her eyes locking with Trish’s.

Trish cocked a curious eyebrow, ”A guest? Let me guess, in the cargo hold?” Jinxy shrugged. The one place me and Angel decided not to help look. Trish settled on a half truth, one that might get the mechanic off her back. “I’m scouring for parts, and was gonna check out the mess hall and kitchen first, if you need a drink, you can join me?” She hoped that she could get what she needed out of there, ditch the mechanic, and quickly cut back to the engine room and get some of the fuel while she was still out. It could work. Maybe.

“I was just planning on grabbing a drink and heading back… gotta make sure this heap doesn’t fall apart before we get to Oberon. Seriously, who uses gum,” Jinxy said, seemingly muttering to herself there at the end.

Shit. That means I need to ditch her before and I’m not sure that will be enough time. She wondered if telling her the truth would do any good. But all of her past experiences had always taught her that the truth always came back to hurt you worse. She’d just have to risk earning the ire of the mechanic then. She began leading the way toward the mess hall, “I never even bothered to see if they stocked anything in the kitchen, and Amir only checked the one cupboard before cooking. There could be a full Vicerian dinner hiding somewhere in there for all we know.”

Jinxy simply shrugged again. “Don’t care. Don’t usually store engine parts in the kitchen, so I don’t bother checking myself,” she said simply. “Also, anything is better than gorram prison food.”

Trish could only agree with that. Prison food could barely be called food. It was just protein mush, likely ground up bugs, rodents, and careless prisoners. They never said, and no one ever asked. Entering the mess hall, Trish decided to try something that had only worked one other time before, and that was with a particular stupid trigger merchant. “Sh-- Kao, rutting son of a whore.” She quickly turned on her heel, hoping that Jinx would just think her crazy or frustrated and keep on about her own business. She made her way back toward the junction, that led toward the quarters, as well as the engine room, depending which way you took. Slyly she turned back toward the quarters, glancing back to the mess hall, seeing if Jinxy went back in, or decided to follow.

The intercom buzzed to life. “Just so you know, if you steal anything from my engine room, you will crash the ship and we will all die, just a little info for you,” Jinxy’s voice said. “Also, we got no spare parts or fuel.”

Guess I’m not as good an actress as I think I am. She still made her way toward the engine room, knowing that if Jinxy was at the intercom, she’d been in the mess hall proper, at least for a moment. But she stopped right at the entrance, sighing to herself. She stared inside, but never crossed the threshold. Is this really how she wanted to make her way on this ship? Lies and distrust? She didn’t want to live the life she’d been living since she escaped from that prison hell any longer. Her and Angel had built some trust, and even some with Amir to an extent. Hell, that was half the crew. Well, a third now with the new stowaway. Trish heard the footsteps approaching from behind her, knowing they could only belong to the mechanic.

Jinxy soon appeared next to Trish, glass of water in hand. “I was joking about crashing us all. I can’t do that. But I was serious about the no spare parts or fuel. But, I’ll make you a deal. I already got the go ahead from Am… I mean the Captain to overhaul the engine when we get to Oberon. I’ll give you the used parts that arn’t broken for your, uh, whatever it is you do. However as for fuel, you’ll have to talk to him about that, if you want your own supply,” she said, taking a sip of water.

Well, that was a bit of good news, though she didn’t need any of the parts from the engine room, since she’d not been in there to see what was available. Reaching into her canister pouch, that held the various materials that her multitool used, she pulled out a tiny, metallic one, roughly the size of her pinky finger. Jinxy would be able to tell that it was used for storing fuels under high pressures, and would be rather volatile if full, at least, if she was as good of a mechanic as she seemed. Trish held it up, “I just need to fill this. And… I’m not sure if Amir would understand. It’s not for… a job or anything like that… just… personal.” She found herself glancing over at the mechanic, not sure how much truth and admittance she could handle for one day, after her spiel to the captain, and to Angel. Vulnerability was weakness, and that seemed to be coming in spades these last several hours.

Jinxy seemed to be thinking for a moment as she looked at the tiny tube. “Hmm… well at the moment as I said, we don’t have much fuel. We’ll make it to Oberon, but… I’ll ask him for a bit more fuel, like a just in case scenario, and I may be able to give you some. But, on your word, you will not use it on this ship, got it?” She said, looking at Trish.

Trish considered the request, which wasn’t unreasonable in the slightest. Once again, however, her mouth decided to say more than she wished, “Don’t need to worry about being taken prisoner on ship anyways. Or at least by that point it’s too late to matter.” Rather than acknowledging her slip of the tongue, Trish just stood there in awkward silence for a bit, before continuing, “You have my word.”

“Alright. I’ll take it. I’ll do what I can,” Jinxy said and offered Trish a smile.

Trish smiled lightly back, and handed over the tiny cannister. “Thank you.” She moved to leave, running through her checklist of the other parts she’d need. She’d have to dismantle that old boombox she’d found, probably steal a few wires from the appliances in the mess hall, and get a tiny dial from the cockpit. “Want me to meet you back here after I get the rest of the parts I need?”

Jinxy paused, seemingly in thought. “Probably after we land and stuff. I won’t have anything ready for you till after we land on Oberon,” she said.

Trish nodded and left, to gather up the rest of her parts. It didn’t take long, and she decided to end in the common room, since she didn’t have a workspace in her own quarters yet. She quickly set to work, turning the mess of wires, battery, and such into a trigger. She melted a few metal brackets that she’d snitched from a few signs that hung in the corridors, so that she could snap the cannister within them. Then she molded the other ends in a similar shape, in accordance with the measurements she took earlier. She was absentmindedly humming one of those songs from earlier, wishing she didn’t have to dismantle the boom box. Making a mental note to fix it after they landed, she held her odd contraption up to the light. She measured everything again, including her bottom rib one last time, tested the battery and wires again, and was seemingly satisfied by what she produced. Popping one last cannister into her multi-tool, she began spraying the entire thing with a saline based polymer, specifically designed solely for implants that were placed within the body. The saline prevented the body from recognizing the object as foreign, so there was very little fear of immunorejection. The only downside was the saline polymer made the entire room smell like wet dog, and would take a few minutes to subside.

Once the polymer had dried, and she checked it over to ensure it was fully coated, she made her way back to her own room. Now she just had to wait for Oberon. She just needed to make a little bit of money, and find a Pysche doctor. She didn’t know what everyone else’s plans were, but none of them had included her in them, so she’d be flying solo, it seemed. Slipping into bed, she was confident that she’d be able to sleep in peace now that she’d managed to busy herself, and had a half formed plan in place. Slipping beneath the scratchy blanket, she wondered if it was wise to be going off on her own. But if everyone else was busy with their own thing, there was no real choice in the matter, was there? She’d just have to be a bit extra careful, and hope that the GA didn’t have a large presence on this planet. And that the Waegu didn’t know who she was.

There was a knock on the metal sliding door, now locked, and a curse as the VI interface presumably popped up on the other side, startling the captain behind it.

“Hey! Open up!”

The tiny purple butler popped up on the door panel as the captain banged his fist on the metal.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Sir. Not until my creator’s safety is guaranteed.”

Amir sighed wearily. “Well, I’m not going to shoot him. It’s bad luck to do that on a new ship,” he informed the VI in a matter-of-fact tone, knocking again – this time through the holographic butler’s shimmering form, just out of spite.

The VI looked at the captain and looked as though he were actually annoyed, but the door hissed open nonetheless, permitting the captain to pass through to where the pilot stood outside the room Harper had himself secured in. He watched the two through his bionic eyes still linked into the security cams. The captain was an imposing man with a dangerous-looking bionic arm.

“Hey cap’n.” The pilot waved at Amir. “He’s tech savvy.” She gave a shrug that was part “you’re in charge” and “god I just don’t want to die”.

Amir raised an eyebrow and stepped forward, peering at the next locked door curiously. “Yeah, I gathered. He holding us – well, you – hostage?”

“I’m not holding anyone hostage really. Just the cargo,” a new voice broke over the door panel in front of the pilot and captain.

“Yeah, well, it’s not your cargo now, pal.” Amir stuffed his hands in his pockets rather than trying to knock again, but he did look towards the pilot as if asking her what he should do about the situation – tilting his head towards the door.

”Technically it never was his cargo. He’s a stowaway for even the old crew.”

“So he’s no different from any of us. Care to open the door?” Amir took a few steps back in case of any shenanigans, and he could think of a few – a door exploding in his face, a gun aimed at his head and so on. “I wasn’t going to kill you anyway. I tend not to do that to stowaways.”

”Sure. If you do kill me, you’ll never know what’s in the cargo,” the voice came back as the door clicked, indicating it had been unlocked. Harper disconnected his eyes from the security cams and readjusted them to his surroundings. Staring at the door, he finally stood from his resting position on the bed and walked toward the captain and pilot, holding his handheld datapad tightly. The door hissed open as he approached, revealing the youth with wild hair and bright green eyes in his leather jacket.

Amir cocked his head to the side in interest. Before he asked the stowaway’s name, or what he was doing there, or why he’d decided to barricade himself in a room, he wanted to know: “What even is the cargo?”

”If I told you that now, my safety wouldn’t be guaranteed.”

“We’re on a ship hurtling through the ‘Verse. I’m not going to throw you out the airlock or anything – I don’t do that sort of thing,” Amir said, rolling his eyes. His crew, however, on the last ship he had been a captain of, was more than happy to do something like that for him. Still, holding on to his authority by fear wasn’t an effective way of doing things, not on a fledgeling vessel with new ‘friends’.

Besides, he did have a soft spot for stowaways.

“In fact, I’d be even less likely to do something like that if you proved your worth and just told me.”

Harper eyed the man for a long moment, weighing his options. The man could easily be lying; he wouldn’t be surprised if he was. Lots of people lied to get ahead anymore. What was really keeping the man from shooting him as soon as he said what was in the cargo? His word? That meant almost nothing.

”I’ll you what, captain. I’ll let you know what some of the cargo is, but I’ll keep the hold under lock and key for now,” he said, indicating his data pad.

Amir sighed again. He was doing that a lot in the last few hours. “I’ll take what I can get,” he said, offering his real hand out for a handshake after a moment’s hesitation. “I give my word I won’t try and kill you, by the way. Or do any grievous bodily harm, or find a way to break your VI there. And my word’s the only thing I’ve got. It’s Amir.”

Harper looked at the captain’s hand a moment before extending his own, ”I hope you keep to it. Very few do anymore. You couldn’t break Higgins if you tried. I designed and coded him myself. And, you can call me Occulus for now. Also… I was promised a pin?”

“A pin?” He looked towards the pilot.

“I’ll get those made then I guess.” The pilot said grinning.

After a moment of complete confusion on Amir’s part, he simply shook his head, a small smile crossing his face. “S’pose it would look dashing. I’d be disappointed if you don’t.”

“Well it’s on the top of my to-do list then.”

Amir clapped his hands, rapidly changing the subject. “Occulus! Let’s head to the hold – I’m getting a bit claustrophobic standing in hallways.”

Harper raised his eyebrow at the captain, ”I said I’d tell you. Never said I’d open it up right away. There’s pretty basic stuff in the hold. Some supplies like rations and a few spare parts I think. A couple weapons too.”

The captain nodded. “Rations can be sold on Oberon to pay for better stuff – eh, I’ll get Jinxy to take a look at the spare parts when we land and… Weapons. Hm, weapons.” Amir chewed on his lip for a moment before releasing it. “Yeah. Tempted to keep those too.”

Deciding that if he didn’t ask, he probably wouldn’t get, he continued, “You’re not going to tell me what’s in the rest, I get that. But how illegal is it on a scale of one to blowing up a space station?”

”Well, you won’t be blowing any stations up with this stuff, but it’s definitely up there.”

“I was hoping it wasn’t something like that, but I shouldn’t have expected anything less.” Amir rubbed at his forehead. As if his crew wasn’t endangered enough by their own criminal records, they had be hauling this mysterious, illegal cargo along with them. “Feel free to move around the ship, just – don’t spook the others, if you see them. And I need the cargo bay doors open in the morning, so we can disembark; don’t rightly care about what the goods are so much as what they’re worth, so you can keep it secret for leverage.”

He was giving orders like Occulus was a part of the crew, though Amir supposed he was as good as.

”I’ll open the hold when we reach… Did you say Oberon?”

“’Biggest Scrapyard in the ‘Verse, yes,” Amir confirmed.

”Sounds good to me, cap. I’ll be in the lounge if anyone needs me ‘til then,” Harper replied, beginning to walk off. He pulled his datapad up and tapped a few commands in, and the door to his new room sealed itself back with a hiss.

Jinxy listened to the announcements that Amir made and had to chuckle a bit. He sounded like a cheezy tour guide that was selling them this packaged tour of Oberon. Not that she was getting off. No way in hell. There was still a ton of systems to check on this rust bucket, and she had to make sure they were all still running before they left the planet. Hopefully, if she gave Amir enough of a heads up, they could get the parts to fix those systems before they left.

She buttoned up her coveralls and stepped out of the engine room. There wasn’t too much else to look over there. She had given Amir a basic list of parts she needed to fix the engines, for now. Sure, some of it would be difficult to find, but if they could get the parts, this baby was going to fly better than new.

What she didn’t tell Amir was the request for extra fuel wasn’t for her, and that some of the parts on the list were for his arm. If she could do him a small kindness and help make his arm work a bit better, she’d feel a lot better. Amir had taken a huge risk with all of them, and for that Jinxy was thankful. She blushed a bit as she thought about this and then waved her hand in midair.

”Now is not the time to get all moony over some guy you barely know Melissa. You have a job to do. He’s also former Waegu. That means trouble. However, we did always like trouble. Luckily, we shouldn’t find any. We’re well established as Jinxy. No one is going to find us out.” Jinxy wandered around and found a med bay and went to check their first. She was hoping to find some records for the ship. She picked up a journal and started flipping through it. It was the doctor’s journal.

“October 15,
Boarding that ship was a mistake – they were goddamn savages, GA bastards. Tore up Caleb's arm real good, bit me when I stopped my TK for a breather.

We all thought Caleb was going to lose an arm, especially Caelum. Can't imagine what it was like, her seeing us all bloodied up in the cargo bay and having to do her job as my assistant. Held it together though – best goddamn surgery I've ever done, even if it took two consecutive shots. Never been able to do telekinetic stitches before.”

”So their doc was using Psyche. Damn, sounds like they didn’t have it easy at all. Maybe mercenaries? Dunno why you’d have to board a ship otherwise.” As she flipped through the next couple of pages she started to get more concerned. There was a strange substance, probably Psyche staining the next few pages, and the writing was starting to get illegible in parts. What was legible was written in haste, and not the most grammatically correct.

“October 17,
Feeling a bit ill a bit antsy. Not myself. Sure it's just the long mission taking a toll
have cooking duties since Caleb in recovery
bite healing up nicely”

Jinxy had to frown. This was sounding terrible. She continued to read on.

“October 19
follow up surgery for Caleb
cant concentrate without Psyche
prescribed anti-depressants to Captain, feeling not himself”

“October 20
its space sickness
saw too late
sorry
so sorry”

”SHIT.” She slammed the journal shut and rubbed her brow. She tucked the journal into her pocket and went to see if she could find the captain's log and access it. She needed to know more, and right now.

Beth, once the ship was safely docked, stood and stretched. The flight into Oberon had brought back a couple memories, a few good ones, and a couple not so great. She had decided she'd think about the good ones. Of course even those were tinted with melancholy. Walt was waiting though, and he did not care overly much to wait too long.

"I'm going to visit my cousin." She told the captain, before exiting the ship. Walt's shop was busy, that wasn't surprising the man knew what he was doing. He stood behind the counter haggling over the price of some large shaped oil covered piece of metal. Beth couldn't guess what it was and cursed herself yet again for not having spent more time with her father in the engine. That had been for a good reason though, the pilot's seat called to her more than the engine ever had. Once the price had been agreed upon the customer paid and left leaving Walt alone at the counter. "'Ello." Beth said with a bright smile.

The large, grease stained overall wearing man, looked up from the register and gave Beth a toothy grin. "I didn't think you'd actually show up. After last time." He winked and Beth laughed just enough.

"Blood is blood." Beth shrugged. Walt squeezed through the opening of the counter and pulled Beth into a heavily scented hug.

"What brings you to Oberon anyway? You were mighty vague on the wave." Walt asked once he released his cousin from the hug.

"It's a long story cuz, but I got awful close to payin' my dues." Beth frowned looking down at her boot covered feet. Walt harumphed and then called one of his shop hands to care for the register. He led Beth back into his office, a small room overstuffed with papers. He opened a drawer that had a couple folders in it.

"Don't know if ya saw this." He passed a bright blue piece of paper over to Beth. The edges were a little bent and the ribbon, a soft blue one, that had been tied around it now slipped off. Beth read the paper a smile and a tear appearing on her face. She used the collar of her shirt to take care of the tear.

"I hadn't. Bet she's pissed." She handed the paper back to her cousin.

"If you get a chance you should visit her." Beth shook her head. "I know." Walt sighed, knowing exactly why Beth couldn't visit that particular family member. "I'm glad you're here for now though. If ya need parts, family discount. Also you're invited to dinner tonight." Beth nodded, the smile gone now.

"Thanks Walt. I'll let the captain know, and see about making it for dinner. For now I think I'm going back to the ship." They clasped hands.

"That's our Beth, never one to be off a ship for more than a few hours." Walt chuckled and walked with her back to the outside of the shop. Beth, as she walked back to the ship, pulled from her pocket an old worn red ribbon. For a moment she contemplated the ribbon before shoving it back into the pocket.

An old, digital alarm clock shattered against the wall of the common room, followed by a frustrated, feral snarl from the explosives expert. She had many wires, chips, and other gadgets from nonessential electronics littered atop the pool table. Trish had been toiling for a few hours now, since the wee hours of the morning, at developing a proper trigger for her personal device. No matter which direction she led her creation, she ran into either of two problems. Either the trigger was too big to not be discovered should she be captured, or it was too small to program with her limited abilities. Her, and her father, preferred hard wired bombs and not anything with programming involved. Old school he called it.

Even now she could hear his taunting laugh, felt the phantom bruises that were no longer there when his laughing turned to frustration toward her. She slumped down to the floor, trying to calm down, to vent, relax. Recalling an old supplier of hers, she sat with legs crossed, knees raised, wrists resting atop them. Slowly she breathed through her nose, out through her mouth, trying to push the memories away, to bring her focus to the here and now. However, this led her mind to recall every time she'd been captured, held against her will. Every single time, her arms had been restrained, and often all of her possessions confiscated. She would need an internal trigger. Exhaling once more, that left a single type of trigger. And it was going to hurt.

Moving quickly to the kitchen, she searched and searched until she found some powdered milk, hoping it would do. Mixing it with water, she put it in a shallow dish, and returned to the common room. Fetching a pair of pliers, she steeled herself for the pain soon to come. Opening her mouth as wide as she could, she reached the pliers in, and gripped them around one of her back molars. She began pulling, both down, and to the side, feeling spikes of pain shooting up her jaw. Eventually it ripped free, a single drop of blood staining the pool table's felt. Quickly she set it in the milk, ensuring the roots were submerged, as she quickly began taking measurements.

Gathering up the various bits and pieces, she quickly assembled a tiny little device, consisting of a battery, a tracking chip, and a wireless chip. These all came to roughly twice the size of a grain of race. She knew it was already running, and could tested the matching wireless chip to see that it was receiving the signal. Finding that it was, she drilled into her tooth, and inserted the trigger. She then score a small fault in the tooth, not enough to break it, but enough to weaken it should she bite down really hard. She then sprayed a single layer of a weak signal blocking polymer. Testing the other chip once more, she found that it was no longer receiving a signal. She then went to a panel nearby, and checked to see if the ship could detect her tracking chip. It did, giving it a long serial number, that she renamed 'Trish'. Satisfied that this would work, she grabbed the tooth, jammed it back into her gums, and sealed it with some rather hot adhesive. She hoped the root would take and the tooth would continue to live, she'd only heard of this working. But she now had everything she needed, save the spare fuel. And, of course, the doctor to insert the device.

Just as she finished, the captain's voice came over the intercoms. She definitely wasn't interested in being his enforcer, but had no reason to leave until she had the fuel. So now she just needed to occupy herself until then. Trish made her way to the cargo hold, plopping her rear on a crate of unknown, to her, contents. She eyeballed the captain nearby, and watched the pilot leave quickly. Sitting there, she found herself quickly growing bored and fidgeting, wanting to continue with her plan, seeing as it was already in motion. She had very few credits to her name, certainly not enough to get her a job, let alone anymore parts or fuel. Trish needed to move forward, and soon.

Jinxy was in a bad mood. Finding the doctor’s journal and then reading it had been a mistake. Or had it? She now knew why the ship was abandoned. Space sickness was never good. However, she did want to go through the Captain’s log as well. She just wanted to double check on a few things. The doctor had mentioned some cargo… was it still on the ship?

She sighed and passed the open cargo bay and paused. She walked inside and raised an eyebrow. “Trish? What are you doing in here?” She asked curiously, leaning up against one the walls.

Trish looked up from her mindless fidgeting as Jinxy entered the cargo bay, in what seemed to be a bit of a hurry. The explosives expert could sympathize, as she was already frustrated with how long she was to wait, and the captain hadn’t even left yet. Her impatience was certainly controlling her temperament, and for the briefest of moments, she thought Jinxy was bringing her the fuel. But as soon as she realized that was impossible, her face formed a rather deep, annoyed frown. “Waiting. Not sure I should leave yet, haven’t quite gotten my supplies together yet.”

She assumed Jinxy would know what she spoke of, and hoped that she wasn’t unintentionally blaming the mechanic. After all, the woman was helping her out with her rather delicate situation. Trish hopped off her crate and approached Jinxy, scrutinizing the look on her face. Something was… off. Trish had never been especially good at reading people, probably due to a lack of trying. Arms crossed, “And yourself?”

Jinxy looked at Trish and sighed, holding up the very faded doctor’s journal. “I might have found out some of this ship’s past and well, it ain’t good. I was gonna go see if I could find the captains logs as well. Also I was going to check the cargo while I was here. They made some mention of canisters that I wanna check out,” she said and groaned. “I have no idea on the supplies by the way. I know Cap’n and Angel were going to go get the parts, but I don’t even know if they’ve left yet,” she added.

She walked into the cargo hold and started looking around. “Wanna help me?” She asked, turning to look at Trish.

Trish mulled the thought over. It certainly would keep her busy while she waited for the blasted captain to move his ass along. Canisters rarely held anything good. Her father used many canisters in the war, filled with many nasty things, designed to kill more people than a simple explosion could. Trish tended to shy away from those sort of bombs, however, for they were far too difficult to control.

Shrugging lightly, “Why not?” before she turned, deciding to fiddle with the crate her but had been plopped on moments before. It had a simple digital keypad lock, and from the looks of it, wasn’t an atomized seal. A simple airtight, lockbar setup. Amateur level at best. Trish pulled out her multitool, setting it to the magnetic screwdriver. It made short work of the face panel which she lifted off. She then turned up the magnetism, and pressed it to the dense plastic casing of the crate. Trish pressed her ear to the crate, and began slowly edging her tool upwards. She heard no scrapes as expected, and began pulling it to the right. There it was. A slight metallic scrape. She continued this, changing directions as needed for results, until with a click, it was open.

Trish raised the lid, looking at Jinxy, before peering inside, not sure what to expect.

Jinxy looked at the canisters, and frowned a bit. “We might wanna leave those alone for now till we see the Captain’s log. We might find out what they are in there,” she said. She saw the numbers, and her brain froze. These weren't normal canisters for water or benign liquids or gasses. This was worse. What in hell were these people doing?

“Wanna come with me? I’m guessing the captain’s log would be at the bridge. I believe our pilot went on-world to meet someone,” Jinxy said, tucking the journal back in her pocket.

Trish looked down curiously at the canisters. She then reached down and tapped on one, hearing a surprisingly hollow echo rebound. Definitely not liquid. The nozzle suggested a gas, yet… not quite. Perhaps an aerosol? Trish moved to grab one and take it with her, before remembering she was with others. They might not like her experimenting with whatever was in here, especially on the ship. She sighed and retracted her hand. She glanced over at the not yet departed captain once more, then back to the mechanic, “Lead on.”

“I’d rather know what the hell is in there before you start taking it apart… given that seems to be your m.o.,” Jinxy said with a smirk and lead the way out of the cargo hold and up to the bridge. Once there she scrunched up her nose. It was a mess in there. Whomever had this ship before was not one for picking up, or had they just left in a rush? Well, only one way of figuring it out.

“Alright, holographic display… hmm oh ew, more freaking gum! Glad I added extra wires to that list. Let us see… hmm password protected… bah. Let’s see…” Jinxy cracked her fingers, and then set to work, typing over the keyboard with a dizzying speed. Soon, the holographic display started up.

A man with a beard and feather earring appeared. He was also wearing sunglasses which he seemed to adjust before speaking.

“Captain’s Log, October 12: Left Ajax on orders for a quick hit on a GA-allied border moon – to pick up their good stuff before it's loaded onto their fighters. Should be simple and easy and all that, and I have a wedding to go to on the thirtieth so– Hey, what do you mean it's a tangent?” There was some noise in the background of the recording, along with a tinkling girlish laugh.” “Caelum's just mad since it isn't her own wedding, know what I mean? Anyway. Log out.” There were some rather disgusting sounding smoochy noises before the image cut out.

Jinxy paused. “Great… they were former mercenaries… I thought this was the case from the doctor’s journal. Who knows what else happened with them… let’s see, next entry. Want me to continue?” She looked at Trish, waiting to see what the explosives expert said.

Trish had been cringing since she’d come upon the messy bridge. Messy work areas had always been deadly in her line of work, and the need to clean was just below the surface of her skin. As the hologram came up, Trish listened intently. The lovey dovey nature of it seemed odd for a captain’s log. It wasn’t very professional. What was the point of acting like that towards others? People just use you, stab you in the back, and leave you to die. Pretending otherwise just got you dead.

She found disdain, she assumed, in Jinxy’s voice for mercenaries odd, considering that would essentially be their roles for a while. It was a bit disheartening, since Trish had always ever been a mercenary. A bomb for hire. She nodded, finding it better to hold her tongue for now.

“Trish? Want me to continue?” Jinxy asked, looking at her. She frowned a bit. “I got nothing against mercenaries, just… they don’t always leave their ships in the best condition. No steady income does that… been there, done that, and well doing that at the moment,” she said with a laugh.

“Yes, continue,” Trish said, trying to smile lightly. This whole bit was off putting. The mess, the hologram, her impatience. She could feel it all welling up inside of her, threatening to burst forth in what would only be a spectacular outburst or meltdown. She tried to focus on her breathing, through her nose, out her mouth, waiting for the message to move along.

Jinxy nodded, and started typing again, and the hologram picked up again.

“Captain’s log,October 15: Got to the planet, they'd already packed the ships up with what we were told to collect. We made the decision as a team to do a heist whilst the GA ships were in transit between the moon and Murphy Station. All roads lead to Murphy, yeah? So, it didn't go quite to plan.”

“We found the ship we were meant to collect from driftin' in the void, all lights off, all spooky, and we figure – hey, maybe a life support error, or something? Wasn't a civilian ship, it was military. The money was worth it, so I told the doc and Caleb to suit up and get in there.

Apparently there was still some freaks in the cockpit, having vented the whole cargo hold – clean air, oxygen, bodies – into space. Everything but the rest of the ship. Some of the cargo was all opened out, but we moved it onto our ship 'fore exploring any further. Anyway, said freaks attacked Caleb and the doc. They put him down, got their ID... just rookies. No idea what caused it. Injuries: both of ours, since they took them by surprise.”

Cargo – 19 x SJKS998 Canisters; DO NOT OPEN. One was damaged when we got there, so we left it behind.” The captain tapped his nose with a smile and it seemed to contrast the whole seriousness of what he was talking about. [The captain taps his nose, and with a boyish grin – almost in direct contrast to the seriousness of the subject matter, continues.] “Log out, aye?”

“Do not open eh? Well seems like a good plan for now,” Jinxy said, and started up the next log.

“Captain’s Log, October 19: I think–” There was a squeak which made them flinch, and then the camera was much more focused on the captain, and his voice dropped to a horse whisper. “I think the guys have space sickness. I think that's what's in the canisters. I don't know for sure, but... yeah. Doc can barely string a sentence together, and his Psyche's all over the place. Caleb attacked his brother last night when he visited him in the clinic, and the others have been weird, just weird.

Me and Cae, me and Cae, we were born shipside. I think that's why we don't have it yet. I've taken pretty much everything from the pantry and brought it up here. We're holed up in the– A bang cuts out the recording for a moment, and the captain's sharp eyes turn back to the screen with a wry smile. –Cockpit, for now. If we're gonna survive this, it's gonna take drastic action. I'm going to take drastic action.

Ain't safe taking us to Murphy with all the GA. I'm taking us to Godwin instead.”

Jinxy’s eyes went wide. The canisters… had space sickness in them? “Fuck.”

“Captain’s Log, October 23: Can I just say, I called it?” The captain’s voice was tired, almost like he was dead exhausted, but he was pushing on. There were traces of a smile, like he had found something after looking for a long time. “Wish I hadn't, but I'm glad, so glad, that at least me and Cae survived. We had to – uh – vent the ship, the cargo hold. Good thing everything's strapped down proper like in the vacuum seals.

Our friends, our DA team, they're gone. It's a shame, really, and if they died in combat or anything I'd be avenging them. But I ain't taking the canisters to Ajax. I don't care about that. I refuse.

So I'm – we're – leaving the ship. And if you're watching this, 'cos you've stolen our ship or hijacked it or seized it lawfully–”

The screen twisted, and a new person appeared. The woman, who had short curly hair looked at the screen and promptly stuck up her middle finger at the camera.

“Please destroy the gas canisters.”

Jinxy hit the ESC button and turned to look at Trish. All the color was drained out of her face, and she looked like she was about to be sick. ”Well, you are not allowed to touch those canisters now, if you’re alright with that?” She said, and then rubbed her face. ”We’re going to also have to tell Amir about this, all of it. Fuck… fuckity fuck fuck.” Jinxy slammed her fist on the table. ”Of all the gorram ships to steal, we took the one with weaponized space sickness!”

Trish had watched the entirety of the logs, a curious look on her face. She found herself thinking that all captains, this one, Amir, and her previous captain, were very similar in mannerisms, a comforting thought. Mostly ignoring the warning, Trish was surprised at the dread she saw upon Jinxy’s face. This wasn’t to be feared. This was a golden opportunity. Weaponized space sickness would be highly sought after by the worst of the worst, and they would pay hand over fist for it. This could be quite good. And might give Trish something to do, should the captain take ages to get fuel.

“I won’t open them, I promise,” and she meant it. But only that. After all, wouldn’t it be better for the canisters to… not be here anymore? A single one could pay for the repairs. And while the log had shown 19 canisters inventoried, who was to say that one or two hadn’t actually gone missing. It happened all the time. Trish was now mulling over a bit of a tough decision. Why did all of her decisions lead to her having to choose over deceiving her crew-mates?

“I could tell Amir. Maybe you should stay here and see if you can find anything else useful? More logs, or something in that book?”

Jinxy nodded. “Yeah… I’ll see if I can dig up anything else… I was also going to check the secondary systems for the ship, make sure everything is working,” she added and frowned a bit. “Also, if you see Amir… nevermind. I’ll be here,” she said and turned back to the console in front of her. She had her work cut out for her. However, she considered this a challenge, even more so than the engine room. A small smile formed on her face. “Thanks for accompanying me Trish.”

Trish nodded curtly, knowing that if she spoke anymore, her deception might be revealed. Amir had already proven to see through her flimsy lies, Jinxy might be similar. She turned, a brief look of guilt on her face, before leaving, making her way back to the cargo hold. Before stopping in, she grabbed her bag from her quarters. She peered in, finding it deserted, much to her relief. She assumed that Amir went to fetch the gear or whatever it was he’d planned. That made this that much easier, she hoped.

She lifted a single canister out of the crate and stored it carefully at the bottom of her bag. A quick count showed that 18 canisters remained. She quickly refitted the lock and checked it, so that others wouldn’t stumble upon their treasure. Stepping down the ramp to disembark, Trish had that nagging feeling in the back of her mind. The same one from earlier, when she’d considered snitching fuel from Jinxy’s engine room. Sighing, she moved over to the intercoms, opening a line to the bridge, “Hey Jinxy, Amir’s not here. If you, uh, don’t need anything else right this moment, I think I’ll, uh, pop out for a bit. I’ll try not to be long, since I still need to get that thing from you.” She awaited a reply before deciding to head out or not.

Jinxy’s voice buzzed over the intercom. “Go ahead. I’m still figuring some things out. I’d be boring company. See you later,” she said, and then the line cut out.

Technically, Trish hadn’t lied to Jinxy. And yet, she still felt as if she had. Her finger hovered over the button once more but she decided against it. She’d be fine on her own, she always had been. Turning, she walked down the ramp into the scorching, dust filled planet. She pulled out her welding goggles and slipped a rag around her nose and mouth. She hated this type of planet. She’d probably find dust in her boots weeks from now. She saw Logan in the distance, and slowly fought her way through the buffeting winds to reach it.

Angel

Featuring: Amir

Angel finished getting dressed as she listened to the captain acting as a tour guide over the intercom; she had just woken up, having slept for much of the journey to Oberon, mostly because there hasn’t been much else to do. “Someone good at negotiation,” the captain had said. However, Angel had a funny feeling that he wasn’t looking for someone that could negotiate at all; rather, he wants someone to make his negotiations easier – and naturally, the ability to move things (or people) at will is rather intimidating.

Checking briefly to make sure her hood was up, she left her room, locking the door behind her. As she entered the cargo bay, the light temporarily blinded her. Her eyes adjusted, and she could start to make out that Amir was already there, sitting on the stairs.

”Expert negotiator reporting for duty,” she said, not bothering to greet the captain as she leaned against the wall next to him.

Amir looked up as she approached, scarf billowing around his neck from the dry, hot breeze ripping through the open bay. “Just what I was looking for.” The captain nodded and straightened up, no longer leaning against one of the massive supporting pillars that kept the ship, well, a ship in the vast emptiness of space. “You all good to attend a ‘business meeting’?”

Angel nodded. ”I have a bit of ‘business’ to take care of myself. I could do with some more Psyche…” she trailed off, looking outside. It was obviously going to be hot, and she wished for a moment that she didn’t need to wear a hood. But unfortunately, there is no chance of that happening. She’d rather wear a jacket in the desert than deal with what would happen if she went without.

The captain nodded in acceptance, if not understanding of her Psyche addiction. “There’s a couple of places you can find it, but they’re all off the beaten track. Coincidentally, they’re also where we’re going.” He looked down at the paper list in his hand, an inventory of what they wanted to ‘buy’. “And I’ve already got it down to get you some, for emergencies.”

Angel nodded. ”I guess we better get out there, then. I’m sure that list is fairly extensive,” she said, gesturing towards the paper that Amir held. He nodded, and without another word the captain led her out into the desert, adjusting his scarf as they descended.

---

By the time the meeting was finished and Amir was escorting the first of five shipments back to the ship, he felt like he had been doused in fine perfumes and coated with a layer of sand that stuck to him like glue. Light grey trousers were now a shade of angry brown, and his mechanical arm – even somewhat safe and half-covered by a sleeve – felt sluggish and unresponsive from the dust caking its inner wirings. The winds were picking up, and the captain even said to their mysterious benefactor (whose name was Red, so far as he knew), that he wasn't aware there was to be a storm on Oberon anytime soon.

Red frowned, and walked off in another direction. "Remember, Khan! You've got three days!"

Amir grimaced, and glanced at Angel before pinning his gaze back to the amber horizon. For all that he'd been worried about it, the meeting with his former associates had gone smoothly. As expected, his name didn't hold as much weight as it used to – it was worth less than nothing. If he had to namedrop another few warlords, ones he wasn't really friends with (but Red didn't know any better), then Amir hoped it didn't get back to the Waegu fleet.

Their known cargo, the few DA weapons and the rest of it, wasn't worth buttons. It was the promise to do business, to handle some off-the-books work – that was worth a damn. The list Jinxy had written up from him was now in the hands of Red, and in trade the businessman had given him information, and a simple command: "Deal with it."

It was almost like he was a mercenary again, following orders from suits.

The first crate peeked above the sharp hill the ship was parked on at just after noon, pushed and pulled by a squad of hired goons. Amir and Angel didn't even need to get their hands dirty after all. In there were the common parts, the items already in stock and easy to find around Logan, but they would need to spend a full five days on the junkyard planet anyway for the rarer parts. It appeared that Jinxy had expensive tastes.

Amir hopped up the ramp and into the cargo bay just ahead of the shipment, rapping on the metal frame (in such a gesture that made him nostalgic for the old days) and then – after shaking his head at his own eccentricity – slamming on the voice comms button.

"Who's all still on the ship? I got some of the stuff on the list,” he said. The crate was hauled up the ramp, and Amir gave a dismissive wave to the goons as they retreated back towards the town. “And something for us to do.”

As Jinxy went through the on-ship computer, she frowned heavily and ran her hand through her hair. What a ship to pick. Possible deadly cargo. Jinxy had not been born ship-side, so having a cargo of space sickness was the last thing she wanted anywhere near her. Things here were getting dangerous. On the plus side, more of the secondary systems still worked! There was that. She could focus on the damned engine, and patch up a few things, but they would have air.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Amir and the intercom. She jolted up and ran to the cargo bay, and almost right into the aforementioned captain. “Am… I mean Captain. There’s something I gotta tell you, about this damned ship the cargo,” she said, not even bothering to ask him how his trip had gone. Right now, there was a bit more of a pressing matter.

The captain’s ever-present smile slipped a bit in surprise. Amir rolled up his sleeves and, with his face set in a serious, stoic expression, asked, “What’s up with it?” A few seconds later, almost as an afterthought, he turned around – looking for Angel.
“Watch the shipment. Thieves aplenty on Logan,” he said, returning his full attention to Jinxy.

Jinxy fished the journal out of her pocket and handed it to Amir. “The last crew got space sickness, all except two. The previous captain is pretty sure that it was the cargo. We’re carrying canisters of the gorram shit.” She frowned. “Previous captain told us to destroy the canisters.”

“Amen to that idea,” Amir said. His right, human hand was fisted in the pocket of his trousers, leaving the journal to his infallible mechanical one to hold. Even so, the tremor that ran up his spine and the pale cast that had overtaken his cheeks were plain to see. “Hate the idea of it, star-sick, space-sick, whatever they call it... Show me the canisters?” He sounded almost reluctant.

“What’s wrong?” The pilot’s voice sounded from the edge of the cargo ramp.

“Space sickness in our cargo hold,” Amir answered promptly without even turning around. “Ie. We’re fucked and have a terrible choice in ships.”

“Most likely space-sickness. Was about to show Amir where the canisters are. You wanna join, oh nameless one?” Jinxy turned to look at the pilot and raised her eyebrow at the pilot. “And it was her idea to pick this one. I wanted a different one but oooh no, higher security was a risk, or something like that.”

“Well first the name is Beth. Second Space-sickness, that bad.” Beth frowned. They finally had a name for her, and man… was Beth common. “Right show away, I guess.”

“Well luckily it is right here in the gorram cargo hold, so just follow me or something like that.” Jinxy shrugged and sighed, turning around and leading them to the now relocked box. “That’s odd. Maybe Trish figured it was best to reseal it. But there should be nineteen canisters of the gorram stuff in this crate.”

Amir quirked his head, curiously, crouching down to try and unlock the box through conventional means. He pulled a bobby pin out of his hair from where it sat, tucked behind his ear. “Nineteen?”

“When they picked it up one was damaged. I figure that is how the original crew got into contact with it. They didn’t know what was it in when they picked it up. However, I didn’t get a count before. I wanted to know what it was before we started going through it. Captain’s log said they had nineteen, so I’m hoping that is how many is in there.” Jinxy watched Amir with interest. She’d have to remember that trick for later. She noticed his left arm was moving a bit sluggish. “Do you want me to take a look at your arm later?”

Amir paused, looking down at his gloved hand contemplatively. “If you promise not to break it,” he said, with a slightly weaker grin. After one hard shove, the container clicked open, and the captain tucked the pin back behind his ear in dusty curls.

“I’d probably leave it in better shape than when you got it,” she retorted and grinned, which quickly disappeared when the container clicked open.

“Okay… quick count, quick count…” The moment when Amir realised that there were only eighteen canisters in the chest was obvious. His fingertips nearly brushed them as he recounted more slowly, carefully. “Anyone else seeing this?”

“Shit. I didn’t get a count before, maybe one was missing before?” Jinxy frowned. She didn’t want to think about it, but Trish had seemed mighty curious in the canisters early. Would she really? No. No, of course not! She had given her word right? But… only not to open them. Jinxy felt her heart drop a bit.

“Really,” Amir intoned dryly, running an exhausted hand along the back of his neck. “Another one was missing, and nobody thought to write it in the logs.”

“Well how long was it docked?” Beth didn’t seem too disturbed by the whole thing.

“Ship’s logs says it’s been at least six months since it docked and was abandoned.” Jinxy frowned. “But… why only steal one? Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. She… augh! I told her not to!”

“Yes, because she seems like the type to follow orders.” If it were any less serious, Amir looked like he would have rolled his eyes there. “I do not want to catch star-sickness, please, because one of the down-and-outs I picked up on Godwin is a nutcase.”

Jinxy was feeling sick to her stomach at this point. She was starting to trust Trish, and then this? What the hell was the bomber thinking? Of course, it was a bit obvious Trish didn’t really seem to have regard for anyone but herself. “I don’t think she kept it here. She mentioned she was going off ship. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but now?”

“Wonderful, fucking wonderful.” Amir let the container fall closed and relocked it. “You two – are you in favour of jettisoning these canisters?”

“All for it. I know I’m sure as hell not immune, and the last thing I want is to lose who I am.” Jinxy frowned, biting her lip a bit.

“Well wouldn’t it be better to do more than just jettison the canisters? I mean open them in space so the sickness just goes out into space and isn’t collectable by some other crazy fool?”

Amir looked at Beth like she’d grown a second head, or maybe like she actually had star-sickness. “Who the hell would volunteer for that? Hint: not me. I’m not stupid, and I didn’t make it this long in the ‘Verse to die here.”

“Are you volunteering Beth, because I think only you’d be up to doing it.” Jinxy sighed. She had no intentions of dying. There was still plenty to do and honestly, last thing she wanted was to pretty much go insane.

“Well I was born ship side.” Beth paled a bit, maybe at the idea of opening the canisters. “Unless anyone else on the ship was it’d have to be me. The hard part would be cleaning my space suit before getting back on the ship so I don’t bring any of the sickness back with me. I don’t know how well just being out in space would kill it.”

“If only we had a doctor on board, some kind of biologist. Four criminals, and none of them’s a Black Market organ dealer?” Amir shook his head. “Maybe Trish’ll be willing to rig it to explode for us.”

“Given the fact she just stole one of them? She’s the last person I’d friggen trust with explosives right now,” Jinxy spat out venomously. She leaned against the wall and frowned. “Augh, I need to fix something, get my mind off of all this.” She looked at Amir. “Willing to let me look at your arm now?”

“Of course. We’ll have wait ‘til Trish’s back on the ship anyway,” Amir said, taking a seat on one of the other cargo containers – thankfully not the one with probable death inside. “Shirt on or off?” He was already peeling off his gloves.

“Well on that note, I’m going to go to the cockpit. Have fun.” Beth walked off. Amir waved.

“Well, let’s take this back to my place. Got all my tools and goodies there. As for the shirt, up to you. As long as it won’t get in the way, you can keep it on.” Jinxy was personally wishing a little for him to have to take it off, but she wouldn’t hold her breath.

Amir shrugged, and started up towards the engine room, unbuttoning his shirt halfway down and sticking his mechanical arm and metal shoulder joint out of it. So, there was a god. From his time out on the desert world, a steady stream of sand trickled down it, finally freed. “It’s a bit of a mess, word of warning. Sand gets everywhere.”

“Yeah, I figured. It’s probably gummed up the inside of your arm.” Jinxy sat down and pulled out her toolkit and opened it. All the tools were in exquisite shape for someone who was on the run from the law. She paused for a moment, and in that moment Amir could make out a faint etching of a name on the outside of the toolkit, Melissa. However, Jinxy clipped it closed and put it away. “Hold out your arm for me please?”

Amir did as asked, remarkably good at following orders. Some more fine sand slipped out as the wires and bolts crunched in new directions, leaving new spaces.

Jinxy pulled on a set of goggles and leaned in, and started gently taking apart the outer casing and looked inside. “Yeesh, sand really does get everywhere. You’re going to need a shower after I’m done with you.” She let out a giggle and got up and started digging around in her bag. Out came a small brush as well as some new bolts. “If I do anything you’re uncomfortable with, just let me know,” she said, and went to work.

Amir shrugged nonchalantly with only one shoulder. “I grew up in a brothel. I guarantee uncomfortable’s nothing new.”

“Really? No wonder you said it took more than minor flirting to make you blush. Guess I gotta up my game.” Jinxy smirked a bit as she continued to work on cleaning his arm. “How did getting the parts go?”

“I have about half of the stuff on the list – eh, left-hand side’s pocket. Scored out what we’ve got and the rest will come in the next few days.”

“Are you encouraging me to go through your pants? I’ll just look it over later, and get started with what you did get later. Right now gotta focus on this.” She looked at the bolts and frowned. “When was the last time someone looked at your arm? Like this I mean. I don’t wanna hear about any sexual encounters with your arm.”

Amir closed his mouth, which had already been half-forming some sexual reference. “Fifteen years? I had a tune-up when I was twenty, but I presume that doesn’t count because it was just a guy on the ship.”

“Are you saying you haven't let anyone look at it since you had it installed? No wonder it looks so sad.”

“No one offered,” Amir said uncomfortably. So much for being immune to that. Then, a little defensively: “I did some installing of the upgrades myself.”

“Well, I will say this. You’re a shit mechanic. Best leave it to someone who knows what they’re doing.” She set a handful of worn bolts off to the side, and went about replacing them. Amir half-sagged when the arm lost some of its supporting structure. “It’s not that bad, just, wear and tear y’know. Luckily, nothing needs replacing too badly, besides the bolts.” She looked up at him and paused. “Sorry. That comment was a little out of line.”

“I am a shit mechanic, it’s true,” he said easily, visibly relaxing a little. Relaxing enough to admit, “The barcode’s superglued on because I couldn’t get it to fit properly.”

“I see. Well not much I can do about that now. However, in the future, I hope you’ll count on me to keep your arm up to date, and not resort to glue. Got it?” She fastened back on the outer case and looked at him.

“Got it. Take it that means you’re sticking around?” He had a victorious grin plastered across his face.

That grin was going to be her death. She knew it. He could smile at her and she’d probably follow him to hell. Ugh. What was wrong with her!? She never got this moony over guys. She looked away from him, trying to hid her blush. “I got nothing better to do than to keep your arm in shape and fix this ship… so yeah, I guess so.”

“Grand,” he said. There was a pause, where he looked like he was about to say something else – maybe something profound and cheesy – but instead, he ended up with, “When we all inevitably catch space-sickness from Trish’s dastardly plan, you’re my favourite, so I’ll make sure to infect you first.”

Jinxy felt her face flush red and paused. “Well as long as you do it in a rather fun way, I’ll forgive you for getting me sick.” She turned to look at him, still a bit red.

If it were even possible, Amir grinned wider. “Naturally.” Yup, that grin was going to be her death. Just put it on her tombstone: ‘Killed by smarmy ass grin.’

“Good.”

Trish was already regretting her hasty decision to go to Logan alone. She was not good with people, and yet here she was trying to find a psyche doctor. Moving through the dirty streets, she tried to find a bar of some sort, her standard go to for information. She passed many dealers of various sins, be it snort, smoke, or injectible, and even a few more carnal sellers. But none of these interested the bomber. An hour passed until finally a man that was a lot cleaner than the rest she'd seen spouted his offer.

"Miss, you look rather healthy and lost, we can give you a good deal for one of your kidneys. If you've got the right blood type, you can walk away with two thousand credits within the hour. A chunk of your liver gets more than that, and those grow back, usually. Marrow is a thousand a vial. Interested?"

She looked him up and down, "You're not the doctor right, just his sales guy?" He nodded, a bit nervously at this nontypical response. "Take me to him, I'm both buying and selling." The man looked rather surprised by this, but nodded, and waved for her to follow him. He led her through a maze of alleys and doorways until she found herself in a surprisingly clean office area with a glass window to an operation room.

She sat down in one of the tacky maroon chairs when the door opened. A very dark skinned woman walked in, [color=f6989d]i]"My guy says you're selling, so I assume, off the menu?"[/i][/color] Trish nodded, and slipped her hand into her bag, pulling out the canister. "I'm fairly sure this is space sickness. You can test it if you'd like. I want to unload this, and possibly others if you can afford it, and soon."

The doctor's eyes widened as Trish handed over the canister, knowing better to not ask where or how she got this, despite really wanting to. "I can afford this one, but I can't really do more than that. I'm a small time doctor." The woman moved into the exam room and hooked the canister up to some machine, and spoke through an intercom, "He also said you were buying? Mind if I ask what while we wait?"

"I want to attach a bomb I made to one of my ribs." The calmness in which she said this somewhat disturbed the doctor. She spoke as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Again, the doctor knew better than to ask why, "Which is why you want a psyche doctor, right? Because no sane doctor would risk being in the room with a bomb." Trish nodded, then the computer beeped. "Definitely space sickness, though a bit different from the natural strain."

Walking back into the waiting room, she returned the canister to Trish, "If you come back tomorrow, same time, I can have ten thousand credits waiting, and do your procedure, we'll say the payment covers that too. You're on your own for whatever others you have." She stuck out her hand and Trish shook it. The sales guy led her back out of the maze and wished her well. The moment she was out of earshot, he opened a communicator and spoke to someone on the other end, "Sir, I got a way you can make a lot of money very quickly.... Tomorrow... One woman... Of course I'll take care of the body, I always do... I doubt she'll be missed.... Yes sir."

Trish made the slow trudge back to the ship, and up the ramp, finding the cargo hold surprisingly empty. Quickly, she made her way over to the crate of canisters, finding that it had been unlocked. She shrugged and slipped the canister in, making it appear in order with the rest, as if it had always been there. She closed it back, and began heading for her quarters. Ten thousand credits would go a long way for the ship and crew. And she'd get her own side project done tomorrow. She found herself quite pleased with how things seemed to be going as she strode down the quarters corridor.

With guests Trish and Amir

After Amir left, Jinxy was left alone to her thoughts for a moment while she cleaned up. There was now sand everywhere, but more importantly, had she really agreed to stick around for an undefined period of time? Yes, Amir’s grin could get her to agree to anything, but the rest of this crew?

She knew almost next to nothing about Beth and Angel and as for Trish…

”No… not now ‘Lissa….” She sighed, tucking away the last of her tools and stood up and stretched a bit. She walked out of the engine room and went to head up to the galley when she spotted Trish. Her eyes narrowed and she walked over to the bomber.

”What the HELL were you thinking?!” She yelled at Trish, shoving the other woman up against a wall. ”And don’t you dare play dumb with me right now. I know you took a container of that gorram shit! We counted!”

Trish could already taste blood from where her mouth smashed into the corridor wall, and instinctively swung an elbow around, facing the enraged mechanic. But rather than fight, for that really wasn’t Trish’s strong point, she just slumped back against the wall, smiling a bloody and smug grin, “And? I got a buyer set up for it too. You’re the one complaining about everything falling apart, you should be thankful.” The taste of blood was attempting to resurface memories, but Trish had more pressing matters at hand.

”Oh fuck you! Do you even know what space sickness does to people? Or do you even care? Oh wait, you probably don’t, considering you just sold a canister of that shit to some lunatic somewhere on this godforsaken planet! You don’t give a shit about anyone besides yourself, do you? Yeah, sure ‘money for the ship.’ Yeah right. I told you not to touch it, and of course you LIE to me!” Jinxy growled and looked at Trish. ”You disgust me.”

Trish rolled her eyes, “What does it matter? Everything kills. Sickness, bombs, guns, whatever. Stop thinking yourself so righteous because you can pick and choose exactly who dies and who doesn’t. The verse doesn’t work that way. And I’m here to work and earn my keep, not care about you, or the orders you give. Amir gives orders here, not you.”

”Space sickness is worse than death. You lose who you are before you turn into a brainless fucking killing machine. You don’t even get the fucking comfort of dying. You’re locked in your own damn body, not in control. That’s why the last captain had to send his last crew out of the goddamn ship. Because they don’t die.” Jinxy looked at Trish. “Yes, I know I don’t give the goddamn orders around here, but you… Augh!”

Trish growled through the tears forming and burning in her eyes, “Don’t you dare lecture me about control. I know much better than any of you what it’s like to lose that! Why do you think I came to you in the first place? Oh and as for lies, did you tell Amir about that? Stop being such a hypocrite, we all lie and we all kill, and money is the only way we survive.”

”No, but there is sure no way in fucking hell I’m giving you that fuel now you bitch. You’d just take us with you. And honestly, yeah, I’m a hypocrite, but only because it was the only way I had to live. I had to claw my way out of the hole I was in, probably just like you. But I have never taken a goddamn life, and I won’t have any on my hands because I chose to trust a terrorist!” Jinxy yelled, her own tears forming at that point. Trish had hit a sore point for her, but right now, she had to swallow it.

Trish shoved past Jinxy heading toward her quarters leaving with a muttered, “At least you got out.” She quickly punched in her code, failing the first few times in her distress. She finally got it to slide open, and she quickly stepped in, shutting it behind her and locking. The bomber fell to her knees as the tears flowed freely, striking her fist against the grimy floor. The memories, the truth in Jinxy’s words, her own guilt at what she’d done, was overwhelming

Jinxy dropped to her own knees and tried to hold back her tears. This is what trust did to you. Just, broke your heart.

A metal clang sounded as the door from Amir’s quarters opened, and the captain peeked his head out. Water dripped from towel-dried hair, thankfully no longer covered in sand. He’d missed the initial confrontation to wash up, which may or may not have been for the better. Heavy boots trudged down the corridor and stopped just in front of Jinxy as the captain crouched down.

“I’m guessing she’s here?” he asked, shooting a brief, scathing look towards the locked door before returning his attention to the mechanic.

“Yeah. She’s here,” Jinxy said, looking up at the captain, and rubbed her eyes, trying to fight off the tears more. “Dunno if you wanna talk to her or not, but… she doesn’t fucking care.”

“I’ll put on my best disappointed voice,” he replied, holding out a hand (the stronger, more metal one) to help her up to her feet. “And I probably won’t kill her?”

Jinxy took his hand and with his help stood up. Amir kept an arm on her shoulder after patting her on the back in a sympathetic gesture. “Amir… there’s something I should tell you. She wanted me to give her some fuel for some crazy bomb she’s making. I haven’t, yet, and now there’s no way in hell I am. I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner. But… goddamn I’m getting soft or some stupid shit like that. I should know better.”

“S’all right. I guess if she’d – asked, I probably wouldn’t have given her so…” Amir shrugged, only a small frown playing at the corners of his lips before he slammed on the door to the room with his mechanical arm.

Trish pulled herself off the floor, already assuming the worst, as always. She quickly gathered up the very few things she owned and stuffed them into her bag. The last thing was the small statuette of the grenade she’d found in the common room with Angel. When the knocking started at the door, she slipped that in her bag as well, and tried to steel herself. She opened it up with a glare coming forth, not expecting right away to see Amir. She stumbled over her tongue for a moment, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll get off your damn boat, no need to bother telling me so.” She moved to push past him, but found it a bit more difficult than expected.

Amir’s gaze was steely, positioned firmly in the middle of the hall. One hand was already on the hilt of his sword, resting. Jinxy was on the other side of him, who was still looking like she was seconds away from crying. “Not so fast, Trish,” he said, expression serious. “See, you’ve taken something that belongs to the ship and, you know, me – where’s that canister?”

Trish looked at him, surprised, but only momentarily so, as he was confirming her belief that money always came first. She tutted, “I already put it back, go sell it for your gorram self. I’m done.”

Amir frowned, almost as if he couldn’t expect her to say something like that about him. “Nobody’s selling them. They’re getting jettisoned. That’s what we, as a crew decided.”

Trish stared at him in complete disbelief, jaw hanging and all. Why would anyone destroy something so valuable? It made no sense to her. She straightened up a bit, “Do what you want. It’s your ship, captain.” She struggled to pull free of him, to get away from this insanity and off this blasted ship.

“Point two – I’m not finished.” Amir’s brows furrowed something fierce. “Deal was, I got some criminals off of Godwin, I get a crew for my efforts. It wasn’t cheap, getting in to save you all,” he said. “I didn’t have any requirements for how law-abiding you were, didn’t care if you blew people up for a living or not, only that you were loyal and didn’t go off and make deals over fatal viruses and plagues that could kill thousands without my knowledge. So you’re staying.”

Her disbelief was now mixed with fear. He’d just told her, without actually saying the words, that the entire crew was enslaved to him and his ship. The panic set in immediately, her breathing growing rapid, and her mind telling her to run. She shoved his chest as hard as she could, turning down the corridor, heading for the cargo bay, “You can keep your other slaves, but I don’t do that. You can fuck off.”

Amir stared dispassionately. “I guess the GA’s getting a call.”

“Wait, what!?” Jinxy, who had just been watching most of this happen in front of her, knew that calling the GA was the worst thing he could do. For any of them.

Trish froze in her footsteps at his threat. She couldn’t be caged up again, tortured again. She turned and found herself unable to meet his eyes, the fear finally taking over, regressing her back to the woman that she was when they’d found her.

“Here’s the thing – if it were you, Jinxy, or Beth, or hell, even Angel too, I would’ve let them go. But letting a terrorist out? That’s just asking for a lot of death on my conscience that I can’t take.” He was speaking more towards Jinxy at this point, half-turned to face her. Then he switched towards Trish. “If I hadn’t paid money for Sonny to gather a crew up, I would’ve left you on Godwin. But I didn’t, so it’s my responsibility.”

Trish’s shoulders slumped, knowing that she was defeated. She couldn’t leave, and now was forced to stay where she was feared and despised and useless, seemingly. In a mutter barely over a whisper, “Yes captain.” She started walking back toward them, toward the minuscule safety of her quarters. She glanced at Jinxy, and there was no hatred, no vengeance in her eyes. There was only pain and fear. She stopped, “Do you need anything else, captain? Or may I go to my quarters?”

“Don’t know where you’re getting that fucking robot-slave thing from for a start, considering I did promise a place on the crew on Godwin,” Amir grumbled at the grown woman’s over dramatic turn, but eventually said, “Do as you will, but don’t go selling space sickness. If you even stopped to consider whether it was good or evil, you’d still have full freedom.”

She flinched at his words, her mind continuing to relive her past, “Sorry captain.” She said no more to him, and moved forward. Amir moved out of the way.

Jinxy looked at Trish, and sighed, looking away. She looked betrayed mostly. “Trish… I’m sorry to say, but I can no longer give you what you need. Out of my hands.” She didn’t look back at the terrorist, just off in the distance.

After Jinxy spoke her piece, Trish just glanced over her shoulder, “It doesn’t matter now anyways.” And with that, she left them, moving into her quarters, not even bothering to lock the door. She crawled into the center of her bed pulled her knees to her chest, but found the tears wouldn’t run. So there she sat, a prisoner in an unlocked cage.

Jinxy let out a sound, and started crying. Why it hurt as much as it did, she wasn’t sure anymore. Was it because of her trust? Was it because she had allowed herself to even try to get comfortable?

Amir rested his arms on the metal railing, and stood stoically beside her – saying nothing but occasionally looking up in concern. After a moment, she started pulling herself together and wiped her eyes. “Sorry you had to see that. But… what you said. I just… is that all we are? Is that…” She paused and then shook her head. “Are we just something you paid for?”

“No!”

“Then what the hell am I huh!?”

Amir looked up, still just as serious as he was before. “I paid for – hired, hired – a crew. There was a time when what I just did would be considered lenient.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of how Waegu work. And to think for a damned moment I... “ Jinxy paused and looked away. “Doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not a Waegu.”

“You never really get away. You can lie to yourself and pretend you got away, but you and I both know, you never get away from them.” Jinxy was biting the inside of her cheek, trying hard not to start crying again.

Amir pushed himself up from the railing, jaw clenched and arms crossed, but he didn’t dare look at Jinxy. “Don’t presume, don’t assume, that you know anything about what I am. I’m not a monster.” Maybe he was, once.

“I just know Waegu.” Jinxy lifted her shirt, showing her own brand on her stomach. “I… don’t want you to be a monster. I honest to some higher power up there want you to prove me wrong. I really do. I want to believe in something again, but… I just… I’m sorry. I crossed a line. You know where to find me.” She tugged down her shirt and sighed.

Amir bit back several replies, tasting something acrid at the back of his throat. Another him, a younger him, might’ve broken bridges completely at that point – exploded, pulled trumps with his arm and his scars and disregarded anything she might’ve said, but now he was just tired. “Yeah, I do,” he said a little limply. “I’ll call a group meeting or something tonight and… Jinxy?”

“Look, I’m sorry… I won’t tell any…”

“I’m sorry, too.” But he didn’t say what for. Maybe he was sorry for what he had to do to make the crew function. Amir wasn’t entirely sure.

Jinxy paused. “I… am sorry. I just… honestly Amir. I’m tired. I want someplace I can feel safe and I was beginning to think it was here. But then this… and my comments were way out of line. I mean, I barely know you. What right do I have to judge. Besides, it’s not like you’re the only one with a past. But, I wanna know who you are now, not who you were. I just hope you feel the same. Ugh… what am I saying. Sorry. I’ll just, go now.” Jinxy sighed and rubbed her face.

Amir called after her – without moving from his position, “If you want to believe in anything, believe that I’ll go through hell and high water to keep my crew safe.”

“That, I can believe Amir. But I’m still sorry. Probably burning my bridges, like I always do.” She muttered the last part to herself as she turned again.

Amir disappeared, hopping down towards the cargo hold so swiftly that the word almost wasn’t. “Nonsense.”

Jinxy blinked for a moment, almost sure she had misheard, but she hadn’t. She smiled for a moment before heading back to the engine room.

Angel

Featuring: Trish

Angel nodded in response to the captain’s order to watch the shipment. There were bound to be plenty of thugs trying to find something valuable, and she was the most obvious candidate for guard duty. Still, she hardly jumped for joy at the thought of pacing the cargo hold for who-knows-how-long on the off chance that someone was able to break in, or even had the desire to do so. So it was no surprise when, after an hour of uneventful pacing, Angel yawned and decided that she could go ahead and sleep for a bit. What were the odds of a thief breaking into our ship, anyway?

---

Angel woke up with a start, as a loud yell erupted from the corridor. Grumbling to herself about noisy crewmates, she was unable to discern what the voices were saying, although she could make out who was doing the yelling – Jinxy and Trish. What could they possibly be arguing about? Angel wondered annoyedly, as the voices began to die down. Knowing there was no chance of getting back to sleep now, and curious (and worried) about what the argument may have been about, she sat up and strode to the door, poking her head out timidly to find the corridor deserted. Locking the door behind her, Angel walked across the hall and knocked on Trish’s door.

Trish hadn’t even heard the first few knocks on her door, she was to self absorbed, too busy remembering the days she’d spent with her father. She was a prisoner there too, not physically restrained, but was unable to survive without him. Being back in the same situation brought the taste of bile to her throat, and she was regretting ever having deciding to trust Jinxy with her plan. If she’d just taken the fuel, instead of asking, she’d already have the procedure done, probably wouldn’t have even known about the blasted canisters, wouldn’t have given into the temptation of selling them. But at least she now knew where she stood. She was just a useless pet of the captain’s, something he’d bought and was probably regretting.

When she finally did notice the knocking, she just assumed it was the captain again, coming to berate her further. Just loud enough to be heard, “Come in,” the defeat in her voice more than evident. She didn’t move from the center of her bed, didn’t stop hugging her legs to her chest, and didn’t even bother to look up to see who was entering. She just didn’t care any more, which was exactly what Jinxy had accused her of in the first place. Maybe the mechanic was right. After all, who did she care about other than herself?

Angel entered, closing the door behind her, and gently sat on the edge of the bed. ”What’s wrong, Trish? What was all that about?” she asked, the concern clear on her face.

And of course it was Angel. The one she actually did feel… something for, even if she couldn’t put words to it. She hadn’t even thought of the blonde during all the shit she’d just done and gone through, further confirming her own selfishness. She looked up, finding a bit of comical comfort in the hood that never left Angel’s head. Her eyes couldn’t meet Angel’s as her despair converted to shame in her presence. Would she end up lying to her as well? Putting her in danger too? Maybe that was why Trish was bad with people, because in the end, all of them were better off having never met her, and she knew it. She tried to speak, stumbling over her tongue a few times before finally, “I messed up Angel… You don’t even know it, but I put your life, and everyone else’s, in danger, for money. I..” thought I was doing right… “You shouldn’t be around me, especially with how the captain sees me now.”

”You really think I give a damn what Amir thinks of any of us? He’s no better than any of us, that’s why the only crew he can get is, well… us,” she responded softly, not having the slightest clue where this sudden compassion came from. Nevertheless, she was more concerned than she had been when she first entered the room. ”What happened?”

Trish really didn’t want to rehash this all, but Angel was completely in the dark, so she tried to keep it short and succinct, her voice wavering and soft during the entire explanation, “We found canisters in the cargo, and the previous captain’s diary stating them to be space sickness. It took most of his crew, a leaky one or something. I decided, on my own and without telling or asking anyone, to try and sell one of them. I didn’t even sell it, just got a price. When I got back, Jinxy and Amir jumped my shit, and when I tried to leave ship, Amir threatened to call the GA on me, for what I am. So I’m forced to stay, as his hostage.” Trish had even surprised herself in the fact that she spoke the truth. Which told her a lot about herself. Muttering very low now, “I’m a slave again.”

As Trish recounted what had happened, Angel wasn’t sure where she stood on the matter. If the canisters were very valuable, it would make sense to try to sell them… but at the same time, the thought of what the buyer might do with it was worrying, to say the least. Angel sighed; nothing in life is black and white, just a confusing gray. ”If it really is space sickness, it would make sense to offload it as soon as possible. However, although getting paid handsomely for it is… tempting, I must admit that I’d probably be opposed to it, for exactly the reason that I was opposed to your initial escape plan from the station,” she said, choosing her wording carefully to try to avoid upsetting Trish even more than she already was.

Everyone was so worried about space sickness. Before today, Trish hadn’t even thought it was real. Sure, she’d heard the stories, the tall tales, the flat out lies like everyone in the verse had, but she’d just shrugged them all off. But in the end, it always came back to the fact that Trish was fine with killing people, innocents or not, and the rest weren’t. She was a monster among thieves. Everything she’d think, everything she’d do, would be looked at with disgust and fear by the rest of the crew, because she wasn’t like them. Trish moved to get up, wanting to do something with her hands, while she tried to figure out what to say next. Everyone else was already done with her, for she assumed Beth had been informed by now, and whoever that other guy was, so Angel was the only person Trish even possibly had a chance at having a semblance of trust in.

She moved over to her bag, that had been unceremoniously dumped on the floor, pulling out her meager belongings, lastly the little statuette of the grenade they’d found. She gingerly put that on the desk in her room, and sat down, staring at the wall. “I… I’m not used to relying on others, to thinking about others, Angel. It’s always just been me versus the universe. I’m selfish, and I know it. If I had sold it, I would’ve turned over the money, because a better ship, parts for me to work with, would make life safer and easier for me. I thought I was doing it for everyone, but they’re right. It was only for me. As it always is.” She looked over at Angel, just a couple feet away on the bed, her eyes once more filling with tears at this rare admission. She didn’t enjoy being a monster, but as usual, it was all she knew.

Angel couldn’t help but give a solemn smile. ”Well, it isn’t just you anymore… it’s us against the universe now. So get used to it,” she said lightly, and then she reached over and hugged Trish for the briefest of moments, before realizing what she had done. Separating, she stared down at the floor, fighting to suppress a blush.

Trish was definitely surprised by the hug she found herself in, especially following the show of camaraderie that Angel had given her. But she didn’t flinch as she normally would’ve when someone, anyone, invaded her personal space like that. And for the briefest of moments, she embraced Angel in return. It was over as quickly as it had begun, not blushing but unable to look at Angel, for a different reason now. “I… I’ll try. And… I’m sorry that I may or may not have almost maybe gave you space sickness…. Is it really that bad?”

Angel laughed at the triple conditional apology, as the mood seemed to darken. ”Yeah, it’s… pretty bad,” she answered. ”I haven’t seen it myself, but as far as I know, all the stories are relatively accurate.” As the conversation resumed, Angel’s mind raced. Why had she done that? Why didn’t Trish stop her, when everything she knew about her suggested that she would? Why, why, why?

Trish nodded, wondering if this could be taken as truth, or just the furthering of the myth. She realized that she should’ve asked the doctor she’d met with. But it was a bit late for that, as she doubted she’d ever see the doctor again, per captain’s orders. Unknowns like that often made Trish obsessive, but she found her eyes being drawn over to the woman that had somehow calmed her down seemingly effortlessly. There was something, different about Angel right now, and Trish couldn’t peg it. She wasn’t sure if it was bad or not, or if it was anything at all. But Angel had shown her kindness, understanding even if it wasn’t accompanied by condonement. She scooted over closer, staying just out of what she assumed was Angel’s personal space, “I just want you to know… That I…,” before getting a bit quieter, stating simply, “Thank you Angel.”

Finally, Angel made eye contact with Trish. ”No problem,” she replied. ”You would have done the same for me.” But was that true? She barely knew her, really. If anything, it seemed more likely that she wouldn’t have. Yet for some reason, Angel was sure that she would. ”Well, I’ll see you at dinner, okay?”

Trish really hoped that she would’ve done the same for Angel, for she wasn’t entirely sure. But now, and from now on, she knew that she would. Her gaze softened a bit as Angel started to excuse herself, reminding her that dinner, and Amir’s ship meeting, were coming soon, bringing more dread to the woman. Without thinking, her hand reached out and grasped Angel’s, just a bit more tears stinging her eyes, “Thank you again, and, I look forward to it.” Trish decided one last thing needed done, and knew that Angel wouldn’t understand.

She stood up, letting go of the woman’s hand, and pulled the remaining item from her bag. It was the rig designed to attach the bomb to one of her ribs. She placed it on her desk, grabbed her statuette, and with three swift blows, left it in pieces. Sure, she could’ve disassembled it, used the parts for something else. But there was something about the symbolism that she felt she needed. She scooped the parts into a small pile atop her desk, and moved over toward Angel, to show her out, even if she didn’t really want her to leave.

Angel was just as surprised by Trish grabbing her hand as Trish had been by her hug, but this time she didn’t show it. She watched as Trish destroyed the device, assuming the action held some significance that she was not privy to, then nodded as Trish made to show her out. ”See you at dinner,” she said over her shoulder as she walked through the opened door, unlocking her own and crossing the threshold without looking back. Locking it behind her, she slid down onto the floor, pondering the events that had just unfolded.

Trish smiled at Angel’s departing words, and watched her leave. When the door slid shut, hissed lock, Trish found a hand pressed flat against the cool metal. Did Angel really have to leave? This had been one of the only moments since the crew had come together that Trish could’ve called pleasant, despite the circumstances. There had been a few of these moments, and all had been with Angel. Her hand hovered over the control panel, her fingers wanting to hit the unlock, to open the door, to ask the woman to come back. Moments passed, Trish’s mind trying to decide what she wanted versus what was smart. Her hand dropped, making Trish feel like a coward, once more kept helpless by her own mind.

Then her stubbornness took over, and she hit the open button, listening as the door hissed open, hoping Angel was still there. She saw an empty corridor, and her face fell into a frown. Peering her head out, she saw no one along the length of it and sighed. She turned and closed her door behind her, wondering what she could do now to keep her mind busy, so that she wouldn’t obsess about this ship wide meeting, where she would likely be the center of the attention and ire. At least Angel would be there.