A day after the incident with the cyborg, Max sat in his office sorting through piles of documents that demanded his urgent attention. For the most part, he couldn’t parse why his attention was so godsforsaken necessary, but he had a job to do and he would sign his name as many times as necessary to see it done. Especially since he’d promised himself he could pause to grab a quick lunch just as soon as the morning’s work was done.

The intercom alert buzzed and Max’s stomach soured. He knew that whatever this was, it couldn’t be good.

“Sir?” said Zi. “There’s an urgent vid call from the Commander. She requests your immediate attention on the confidential line.”

No, that couldn’t be good. The confidential connection was the most secure way of speaking with people planet-side without taking a shuttle and meeting in person. Normally it was reserved for speaking about war or espionage. As Max was not currently involved in either endeavor, he knew this could only be about one thing.

Him.

“Tell her that I’ll be right there,” he said. Max took one last look at the papers and knew that he wouldn’t get them finished today. And lunch was looking less and less likely.

He left his main office and walked through a small door that looked like it led to a storage closet. Instead, he walked down the narrow, hidden hallway to another small door locked with a palm print and retinal scanner.

Once he scanned through, the door opened to reveal a dark room with a single chair sitting opposite the screen on the wall next to the door. Max turned on the vid feed and remained standing, hands clasped behind his back.

The screen brightened, making the dark room as bright as day. After a moment, a vision of the commander’s office appeared and Max saw Commander Nina sitting behind her desk, one fist clenched as she stared into her own vid feed. Her eyes narrowed a fraction when she spied him, but otherwise, she kept her expression deathly neutral.

“Do you think that I’m a fool?” she asked dangerously.

Nina was not a beautiful woman, but she exuded power. In her thirties, she’d be nearly as tall as Max if she was standing. Her narrow eyes were blue and her hair a dirty blonde. She wore her crisp white jacket with braided green around the seams. Five years before she’d risen to power in Nina City, she’d renamed the territory and wiped all memory of the old name from the records.

She was harsh and just, and because of that, he knew she had one of the most stable holds on power in the entire Consortium. Given their positions, Max could not call her friend. But they came as close as two people could come to it when one held the power of life and death over the other.

Max didn’t answer her question. There wasn’t a right thing to say.

She held up a sheaf of paper and waved it around. “Do you know what this is?” she demanded.

Of course he didn’t. The screen resolution wasn’t that great. “No, ma’am,” he answered.

“This is the second corrupted medical records doc you’ve submitted for yourself in the last month,” she said, mouth tight.

Oh. That. He’d known this call was coming, but he hadn’t expected Nina to be the one making it. “Did Dr. Kostos send those to you?” he asked. “Something may have happened in the initial transmission.”

“Damn it, Max,” she said, slamming her fist down on her desk. “Don’t try to pull this shit with me.”

There was real emotion on her face, something that might have been fear. Max slid into the chair and let the steel in his spine soften as he slouched. “I’m sorry,” he said. It no longer felt like he was talking to his commander. “I knew they were corrupted when I sent them.”

She nodded and schooled her expression once more. “Is it that bad?”

Are you going to go crazy and kill everyone, was what she was really asking.

“I’m functional,” he said. “There’s no need to worry.”

She pointed to the reports. “This says otherwise.”

“I glitched,” he admitted. “The doctors would have wanted a deeper look. You know what that can lead to.”

She thought over what he said for a moment and then spoke with absolutely no emotion. “You’re fired and stripped of clearance to land in my territory. If you remain on Nina Station for more than seventy-five hours, you will be taken into custody and tried for insubordination and treason.”

Shock tore through him, and quickly on its heels a burning betrayal that left his guts a hollowed out mess of wire and blood. He gripped the arm of his chair in one hand and heard the wood crack as the control on his strength slipped just enough to warn him.

He forced himself into a state of calm, sublimating his emotions until he was nothing but the cold, logical machine everyone already thought he was.

“You’d lose me over one transgression?” he asked coolly. He straightened until he sat at his full height, a hulking giant made of coiled power and frozen rage.

“Did it ever occur to you to ask for my help?” she asked, her head shaking absently from side to side.

There must have been some hidden emotion left in him. It was the only place his words could have come from. But nothing was there to stop him from speaking anymore. No fear, no misplaced loyalty. Nothing.

“Why should I have turned to you?” he asked. “What single action have you ever taken that would make me think I could trust you not to strip me for parts or sell me to the highest bidder? You don’t see people, Nina. You see pawns in your little power game. That pilot that Droscus killed? A useful victim. The pilot’s widow? Someone for you to manipulate with a snap of your fingers.” He could name a hundred plots that she’d enacted or benefitted from. That was what he got for standing by her side. Knowledge that she would only ever help herself. “When Dorsey and her mate got trapped in your little games, you would have made her a prisoner and held her in your fortress rather than surrender her.”

“Careful now,” Nina warned. She leaned forward as if she now found him interesting after half a decade of reticence.

“You’ve already fired me and threatened execution. What more do I have to lose?” He never raised his voice. His heartbeat remained even. For all the passion he showed, he might have been speaking of the weather.

“Do you think the Oscavian ambassador would have agreed to the favor you asked him without my blessing?” she asked. “Would he have taken your friends to safety, out of my clutches and away from Droscus, without assurances that I would not hold it against him?” She blew out a breath, ruffling the strands of hair that had fallen out of the tight knot where she kept it tamed.

She should have been angry at him, Max distantly knew. No one on the planet was allowed to speak to her so frankly.

“You’re a registered cyborg, Max,” she said, as if she was trying to impart some bit of sanity into him. “If your scans aren’t clean, your case goes to the Consortium military council. I can’t…” She shook her head. “Get your things and get out. Find someone who can fix you. I hear the Oscavians have the best cyborg techs of any planet. Or get to Earth. They’re human and they love a project.”

Max stood and turned off the feed. He didn’t say goodbye to his commander and almost friend and he didn’t wait for any further dismissal. He made his way back down the narrow hall and to his office, where he found everything just as he’d left it.

Yet nothing was the same.

He emptied his safe of Galactic credits and a few precious Tarnian sapphires. The money could only stretch so far, and being on the station, he didn’t have access to his main accounts. But the gems were beyond rare, found only in one place in the inhabited galaxy. Outside of the Consortium, he could live for years off the sale of one sliver of the smallest stone.

With unfeeling care, he placed the credits and gems into his pack and left the paperwork behind for whatever poor soul was conscripted into his job next.

He knew exactly where to go to get off the ship. And in his mood, he would ace any job interview that involved violence.

***

Inrit put her bag on the single cot that had been let down from where it was normally secured against the wall of the ship she now called home. She had with her a few changes of clothes, some toiletries, and an entertainment pad filled with books, vids, and games from all across the galaxy. When she’d hefted the bag onto her shoulder back on the planet, the weight hadn’t been enough to make her strain.

A sad showing for a woman who’d made riches enough to make kings weep. But she’d never wanted the money and walking away had been the easiest decision that had ever been made for her.

“You’re the luckiest crewmember,” Captain Morvellan told her from where he stood in the doorway. She appreciated the gesture. There wasn’t a lot of space on any ship, so respecting a bit of distance was an extra courtesy. Besides, he was the captain of the ship, but the quarters were her own. Unless he had reason to suspect she was skimming or there was some sort of emergency, he should stay outside without express permission to enter.

“Why’s that?” Inrit asked. She didn’t take anything out of her bag. They had nearly a day before they would take off, and she’d have plenty of time to settle in a bit later.

“We had a bit of a mix up with our cyborg the other day. Now you’ve got the room to yourself.” He smiled and crossed his arms, but there was something in his gaze she didn’t like.

“So the crew has no cyborg?” They weren’t exactly necessary, but she didn’t like flying without at least one. A cyborg was worth an entire security squad.

“We’ll see abou—”

“Captain, we’ve got a message for you,” the intercom buzzed with the sound of Harper, the lieutenant.

Morvellan rolled his eyes up to look at the speaker and gave a little shake of his head. “I’m sorry, if she’s calling for me, it’s probably important. We’ll go over everything else at dinner. You do eat normal food, right?”

Normal food. Human food was what he meant. “Yes,” she said. There was no use arguing. The crew was more than half human, and Detyens were close enough that she didn’t foresee any conflict.

Inrit took stock of the room now that the captain was no longer hovering over her shoulder. He seemed alright as far as mercenary freighter captains went. The ship was a hybrid. They could pull cargo across the galaxy and guard precious loads, but the crew itself was made up of mercenaries and they made additional money by hiring themselves out to those in need.

It wasn’t that different from piracy. There was still loot, still violence. But this time it was all sanctioned and mostly legal.

But Inrit hadn’t hired on for the bloodshed. She was on the ship to keep it running. While she’d been given these quarters and the cot seemed nice enough, she knew that if anything went wrong, she’d be catching naps in the engine room while she wrangled with the complex machines that kept the ship alive.

Engineering and mechanics had been the focus of her apprenticeship when she’d first left the Temple of the Dead on Beothea. In the course of her studies, she’d also begun to study medicine and healing of humans. Most of her medical knowledge could be applied to Detyens, Oscavians, and Juntarians as well. There were a dozen or so species of aliens that were just close enough to humans that basic first aid procedures still applied.

For anyone else, she’d be forced to rely on a medical bot.

But that was why the ship had its own medics. She’d help out if the need arose, that was what crewmates did. For now, she’d keep the mechanics healthy and trust the docs to their own business.

The room was sparse. Either the cyborg hadn’t had many of his own belongings or they’d already been stripped from the quarters. Most crews doubled, tripled, or quadrupled up bunks due to the size of the ship. Morvellan’s vessel was on the larger side, and his crew was equally numerous.

She’d be working with a crew of seventy, including the captain. He’d also mentioned that this trip out to Honora Station had taken on passengers. Inrit didn’t care about them at the moment. Right now, most of the crew and all of the passengers were still on Nina Station, making their final preparations before coming aboard.

She left her bag where it was and exited the room, closing the door behind her. The hand scan lock would be keyed to her print at some point, but for now she left the door unlocked. She didn’t have much worth stealing.

All the crew quarters were in a narrow corridor at the heart of the ship. Though Inrit didn’t know the exact layout yet, she was sure that she was either directly above or directly below the guest quarters. Ships were highly compartmentalized, and the life support systems would be the most redundant here with failsafe on top of failsafe.

The only place less likely to lose the air supply was the bridge.

But Inrit headed in the opposite direction of the bridge, down the dark hallway and through a double door into the first of the cargo holds. This one was attached to the main ship, a Class 8XJ hauler that could easily handle faster than light travel. Class 8s sat on the line between heavy duty haulers and sleek and evasive speeders.

They wouldn’t be able to outfight or outrun any galactic army, but the 8XJ was built like a beast and could withstand most pirate or hijacking attacks. It was a favorite of mercenaries like Morvellan in this sector and had probably originally been produced on Thanatos in the Consortium.

The door to the cargo chamber opened to a catwalk that looked out over a huge, nearly empty room. They’d pick up cargo later on their journey, and some of it could still be delivered to the station. Anything placed in this hold was truly important. There wasn’t an automated process to jettison this cargo if something went wrong.

The 8XJ could attach and haul additional cargo modules, but those weren’t as easily accessible as walking through a door. They’d be coupled through an airlock, but for the most part remain undisturbed throughout the flight. The crew didn’t have much reason to go into the outer modules and there wouldn’t be any life support there to keep them alive.

She walked along the edge of the catwalk and down a narrow staircase that was about two meters tall. Following the path along the wall was simple, and an arrow on the ground led her to the engineering bay. This would be what she lived and breathed for the next two years.

Inrit placed her palm on the hand lock and waited for the scanner to let her in. When it gave an angry beep and flashed yellow, she saw that she hadn’t yet been given access to her engine.

She pulled her hand away and strained to look through the small porthole on the door. There wasn’t much to see from here, just a large metal arch that housed part of an auxiliary engine and one of the many control panels that was necessary to keep everything running smoothly.

A ship like this was designed to be run with as few as three people. The engine didn’t need round the clock monitoring, but any responsible captain kept at least one person on staff who could make necessary repairs in flight and keep an eye on the status of the equipment. Computerized diagnostics were good, but a person could really get into the machine and feel her way around. If she did her job right, she could fix any problem before the computer ever realized that there was an issue.

She stepped back and returned the way she came, intending to get settled into her room until the captain could scan her in.

“He told us we could put our stuff here, why do you want to wait?” The man’s voice echoed through the empty storage chamber.

But that wasn’t what stopped Inrit in her tracks and made sweat break out on the back of her neck.

They were speaking Detyen.

Inrit’s first instinct was to leave. She’d told Stoan there wasn’t a Detyen mate out there for her and she’d meant it, but the soft flicker of hope was always there, an annoying flame that didn’t know how to die. A more practical part of her was glad that she hadn’t lied about her species on her forged identity docs. It would have been awkward to try to explain that in the face of at least two Detyen passengers.

She walked quietly, her footsteps quieter than a cat’s whisper, and found a spiral staircase that went all the way down to the base of the cargo hold. The layout of the hold made it so she saw them before they saw her, and Inrit stayed shrouded in shadow for several moments as she studied them.

Other than Stoan, she hadn’t seen a Detyen in eight years. There simply weren’t that many of them left. A hundred years before, they’d lived on a beautiful planet called Detya. When an unidentified enemy attacked and destroyed the place in a matter of minutes, only those lucky enough to already be off planet and a few people with quick access to ships had survived.

Now they numbered in the tens of thousands when once there had been billions. Before the destruction of Detya, few had died from lack of a mate. There’d been complex systems in place, tests and rituals to ensure that every Detyen had a chance at a good and long life.

Inrit didn’t think she would have fit into that world. Detya had been too peaceful, too clean. In the surviving vids and footage, she saw a place that was too close to paradise to ever be a comfortable home for a woman who’d survived for so long on the edges of space.

There were two men in front of her, both greenish shades of teal. Detyens came in a host of colors, but the most common shades were in the blue family. Inrit’s own skin was ruby red, rare back in the days of Detya and almost unseen now.

Each man was tugging on large, heavy looking crates that could have fit two people inside with room to spare. Presumably these were two of the passengers and they were trying to stow their stuff without any assistance from the crew.

They both wore dark jumpsuits that even from a distance were clearly pristine. She could tell that these boys had never been in space before this trip, and they sure weren’t from the Consortium.

She stepped out of the stairs and took pity on them. As she stepped closer, she mentally added a few years to each of their ages. If she had to guess, they were roughly the same age as she was, and related. Brothers, definitely. Possibly twins.

“You’ll have a much easier time of it if you use the anti-grav pallet,” she said in Detyen. It felt good to speak her mother tongue. She was as fluent as a native speaker in Interstellar Common, but nothing beat Detyen. 

The brothers started, one of them jumping back several centimeters. He didn’t quite hide behind his companion, but it was a close thing.

Inrit met the bright red eyes of the man in front and a shock of rejection hurtled through her.

Not you.

She felt the exact same thing when she glanced over at his brother. It doesn’t matter, she told herself. You knew it would be like that.

“You’re Detyen!” the one in back said. “Like us.”

She was betting his silent brother was the smart one.

Inrit saw the moment that each of them realized that she wasn’t for them. The one who’d spoken’s smile slipped a bit and some of the brightness went out of his eyes. The other one’s spine stiffened, and his expression remained neutral.

“My name is Inrit,” she said. “I’m part of the crew.”

“Krayter,” said the one behind his brother’s back. “This is Kayleb.” He seemed to get over the disappointment with aplomb and his smile burst back to life. He stepped out from Kayleb’s shadow and offered a flourish of a bow. “I guess it would have been too ironic for us to mate.”

That startled a laugh out of her. “What?”

Kayleb narrowed his eyes at his brother and shot out his hip, making the other man stumble. “Our cousin recently brought home a human denya,” he explained. “She suggested that we try to find mates on Earth.”

“Dorsey Kwan?” she asked. That had been the name of Tyral’s mate and she was from Earth.

Both men shook their heads. “Her name’s Lis. She’s Ruwen’s denya.”

Ah, the other human. Reina had mentioned her when speaking of her friend Dorsey.

“You don’t sound surprised,” said Krayter. He leaned back against the crate, giving up any pretense of moving it.

“My friend recently found his own human denya,” she explained. She had no desire to stand here and talk about this all day. “I wish you the best, but I have duties to attend to.” She pulled out the anti-grav pallet and shoved it towards them before making her way back to the stairs.

Duties was a bit of a stretch. But the crew would be arriving soon and she had enough time to take a quick shower and get presentable before she met anyone else. The first day in space always made her skin feel irritable and dry.

She made it back to her room without meeting anyone else and pulled some supplies out of her bag. While her quarters came with a toilet and sink closed off for privacy in a small closet, the crew showers were in a separate room.

She made quick work of it. Every liter of water was precious in space, but by the time she had a towel wrapped around her and warm air from the dryers blew on her, she was starting to feel ages better.

Her hair was still damp as she made her way back to her room, and she paused outside the open door. She hadn’t locked it when she left, but long habit told her that it had been closed.

After a moment, her panic subsided as she heard Captain Morvellan speaking to someone within. Perhaps he’d found a cyborg for the ship and she wouldn’t have the room to herself after all. She was barely disappointed. One roommate was better than the crew all piled into one room with barely enough space to lay down straight. She’d done that before and hoped never to do it again.

She pushed open the door and noted that the captain’s back was to her. She looked over his shoulder and caught sight of a honey-skinned human, and all the air whooshed out of her as her blood rushed to her ears and a knowing so profound and immense that she could barely contain it within herself took her over.

Him, it demanded, it claimed. He’s mine.