Being the first mate’s wife, by design rather than accident the second time round, proved more exciting than expected. For one, she got to see places Papa had previously forbidden. Damon tried to forbid her too; however, aboard the Gypsy Moth, she discovered a freedom she’d never had at home. She even acquired a job. Guest Event Coordinator. The captain had noticed her event planning on board for the Nexus and corralled her into expanding that work for alien clients and dignitaries.

“Another party?” Damon groaned as he entered their quarters to find swatches of colorful fabrics all over.

“We’re meeting with the Mor’omonan and his eighteen spouses. They’re thinking of hiring the ship on their celestial tour.”

“And that needs a party?” He held up something fluffy. “Whatever happened to a handshake in a bar?”

“That’s for short-term deals. The real money is in the longer contracts. And the captain agrees. He’s also talking about buying a second ship.” An armored fighter to guard the Moth, given they’d be carrying very important people.

“I know about the other ship. He asked me to captain it.”

“And?” she asked, knowing how he felt about being in command.

“I get to blow shit up. What do you think I said?”

She squealed and dove over the fabric cutouts to throw herself at him. “That’s amazing.” Her husband would be a captain.

And that was just the start. With a burgeoning life growing in her body, it was time to create a legacy they could pass on. A fleet of starships would make a nice start.

She had ideas for new uniforms. And…

“I can see your mind smoking with ideas.”

“Then why don’t you distract me,” she teased.

So he did. He distracted her with kisses and made love to her amongst the stars.

---

Crank eyed the second reactor, its feeble glow indicating they still had more to repair. Good thing they’d finally gotten a cargo that might actually work this time.

Bloody charlatans in the ports, promising one thing, delivering another. When that happened, Crank paid them a visit and reminded them why it wasn’t a good idea to screw him over.

“Chief!” One of the ensigns yelled for him. “We’ve got a problem with that last crate we ordered from La’zuun.”

Which contained silicia, an organic material that resembled a fluffy pile of leaves, purple ones with hair-like filaments that were valuable in the creation of holochips for a variety of items.

“What the hell is wrong now?” he muttered as he stomped over.

“There’s something alive in the crate.” The ensign indicated with a pointed finger. “Should we shoot it?”

Alive after weeks of being in space? Probably a rodent. Pesky buggers were hard to kill. “Don’t do anything.” Firing into the silicia would destroy them. Given their cost, and the need for them, they couldn’t afford to lose even a single one. “Is it a rat? A bacoon?” Which resembled the raccoons of earth but with spiked tails and much sharper teeth. Funny how the universe might be vast, but certain bottom feeders existed in every culture.

“If it’s a rat, then it’s a big one,” the ensign said.

“Get the inoculation kit ready.” They kept a few in engineering at all times because of the rodent problem. Being in space didn’t make the rats immune to disease, and humans were highly susceptible.

He stuck his head in the crate, metal hand flexing. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d caught a lively bugger. He’d have to make sure he crushed it without spilling any blood. Blood and the silicia didn’t mix well.

At first, he didn’t see anything, the fluffy leaves filling the space. He began to dig them out, handing them back to the ensigns crowding at his back. He kept pulling them out, wondering if the ensign had imagined movement.

Except there, at the very back in a space it had cleared. A shape. Huddled in a cloak.

A stowaway.

“You. Hiding in the crate. Get out here.”

The hood shook, and the body shrank.

“Don’t make me drag you out.”

Slowly, the hood turned, and he saw straight through the shadows hiding her face to the giant violet eyes inside.

Eyes that widened upon seeing him.

“Who are you?” he barked.

The figure in the cloak didn’t reply, and yet he could have sworn he heard someone whisper, Your destiny.

---

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