Once they were out of sight of the building, Grom and Sarah slowed to a more comfortable pace.

“Nice job in there,” Grom said.

“Yeah, well, thanks for not leaving me.”

The two swapped briefcase for broken communicator and kept walking.

“So, can I keep it?” Sarah eventually asked.

“Keep what?” Grom turned to look at Sarah who was holding up the gamma blaster and smiling. “No way! We agreed on a human gun.”

“Aw, c’mon! I got you that great new communicator!”

“You heard what he said; it’s broken!”

“Oh, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Sarah turned the “broken” communicator over and popped open the compartment on the bottom. She pulled a small but heavy battery out and inspected it. “Battery’s still good.”

“What use do we have for a new battery? Our communicator works just fine.”

“Sure, it works okay, but that’s not the point.” Sarah shoved the leftover bits of the communicator in a nearby trash bin as those parts really were broken, and continued explaining her ingenious plan. “The point is the battery you have currently in the Slipsteam has likely never been replaced, which means the thing is almost forty years old. If you install this one, which I’m guessing is less than five years old, not only will your communication signal be much stronger, but you can sell the old battery to a collector.”

“You’re telling me people actually collect parts from these crappy ships.” Grom put a loving hand on the side of their own crappy ship as they approached its main door.

“Well sure.” Sarah watched Grom punch numbers into the keypad at the ship’s entrance and wondered if this exterior keypad was hooked up to the same system as the interior ones. “There’s a collector for everything.”

“So how much do you think we could get for the old battery.” The airlock door opened slowly and Grom allowed Sarah to step through first.

“Enough to make up what we just lost in the deal.”

A genuine smile spread across Grom’s face, an expression Sarah couldn’t help but find slightly attractive. The Kylen suggested they finish their conversation over food; it had been a long day and they had earned a hot meal. Sarah agreed, and as the two walked side by side towards the kitchen, Sarah no longer tried to keep a safe distance from Grom. In fact, she was subconsciously trying to creep closer to him with each step.

“I can’t believe you took my gun away,” Sarah said in between bites. She had found some frozen vegetables in the freezer, which were likely Nickle’s, and figured he wouldn’t mind if she helped herself.

“It wasn’t your gun. You stole it.” Grom was eating a beef and potato dish that he claimed was very popular where he was from, although it didn’t seem all that special to Sarah. They were both nursing large glasses of Haraldie beer which Grom had only scored by promising to buy Reema a whole entire case of the stuff the next time they landed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you shaming me for stealing?” Sarah took a sip of her beer which tasted more bitter than a cup of Bernie’s terrible caffie-drink, then added, “Also, if I hadn’t nabbed the thing, you would be bleeding out from a sizzling hole in your gut right now, and I would be…well, I don’t even want to think about where I would be.”

“Probably chained to that dude’s bed,” said the pilot, who had put the ship on auto after their initial departure from Beffund. “Naked,” he added with a smirk.

There had been a few crew members in the kitchen when Sarah and Grom first arrived. The two had relayed the whole day’s story while they prepared their meals. Some of the crew members seemed more interested than others, and Wex only perked up when Sarah mentioned the new communicator battery, at which point he promptly asked her for the battery and immediately left to install it. The pilot on the other hand, whose real name Sarah had never heard and whom everyone just referred to as Slick, had apparently been listening quite intently, to the point where he even felt comfortable adding his own commentary.

Grom apparently did not appreciate Slick’s comment and shot him a mean look across the table. Instead of putting the alien in his place, however, Grom kept his cool and returned to his conversation with Sarah. “I wouldn’t have let that happen.”

Sarah paused, taken aback by Grom’s sudden sincerity. Unable to find a suitable response, she had a big swig of beer and took her time swallowing.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself quite the good luck charm,” the pilot chimed in again, seemingly trying to change the subject and get back into Grom’s good graces. “I mean, you should have seen the way this man negotiated before you came along.” He looked at Sarah, his eyes begging her to help him recover from his recent faux pas.

“I assume he let the dragon take care of most negotiations,” Sarah said, looking at Grom for confirmation.

“Hey,” Grom threw his hands up defensively, “I don’t let the dragon fight all my battles.”

“I don’t see why not.” Sarah put a steamed carrot in her mouth, chewed a bit, then spoke with her mouth. “He would surely win nine out ten times.”

“Try ten out of ten!” Grom corrected her.

“Whatever you say, bossman.” Sarah threw the nickname at Grom like a flirtatious weapon. “I still don’t think the dragon would have made it out alive from today’s showdown. But,” the young woman put her hand up to halt Grom’s imminent arguing, “we’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

The captain shook his head, but was smiling. “Something tells me we’ll have to agree to disagree a lot during our future negotiations.”

Sarah’s eyes fell heavily to her plate. Grom’s comment about future negotiations reminded her that she was doomed to this ship forever. Now that she had established herself as the captain’s “good luck charm”, there was no way he was giving her up without a fight. And even if a fight did ensue, she’d end up dead, ten out of ten times. Sarah pushed her food around her plate somberly, her appetite having vanished. Grom didn’t seem to notice her change in demeanor, however, and kept joyously discussing the details of their current mission as well as the potential missions to come. The remaining members of the crew had begun playing a drinking game, the rules to which none of them really knew, and therefore, most of their time was spent arguing, and they ended up drinking more out of frustration over the game than from the actual drinking game rules.

Sarah nodded every time Grom would ask her something, and sometimes she would mix her responses up by saying, “hmm,” or “sounds good,” but her mind was someplace else entirely. It was with her mother and father, watching TV on their old, patched up sofa. It was with Margaret and Braya, teasing each other over guys they had met in class. It was anywhere but in the smelly, depressing kitchen of this mangled Slipsteam F6.

“Are you even listening?” Grom’s voice aggressively broke through Sarah’s daydream.

Looking up and regaining her surroundings, Sarah said, “yes,” and then hurried to add, “I mean, no. Sorry. I got distracted.”

Grom appeared more hurt than angry, but he repeated himself without having to be prompted. “I was saying that everything has actually gone quite smoothly since you were brought aboard the ship.”

“Oh, right.” Sarah smiled softly. “Thanks.”

“No, thank you. Ever since you got here,” Grom looked around to make sure none of his crew was listening and lowered his voice, “ever since you got here, I’ve been feeling sort of hopeful. I’ve been feeling things that I haven’t felt since, well, since my wife died.” He fixed Sarah with a vulnerable look. “I know we haven’t known each other long, and I know our means of introduction were not exactly ideal, but I hope that you can one day find a place for yourself on this ship. That you could one day be happy to call this place home.”

Sarah’s throat became dry, and she reached for her beer. Whether it was for the wetting of her whistle, or the fact that the last gulp helped push her over the edge of sobriety into the overly-confident state of tipsiness, Sarah found herself unable to filter her thoughts.

“You think I could be happy here?” she began, keeping her eyes locked with Grom’s. “You think I could be happy as a slave?” Her voice began to grow louder, sparking the crews interest. “You took me from my life, from my family! You beat me, you threatened me, you threw the rest of the people to the dogs and promised that if I didn’t cooperate I would be next.” Sarah leaned over the table closer to Grom and remained calm even though she could hear a menacing growl emanating softly from the dragon within him. “You think just because you bring me with you on errands and don’t let your crew take turns on me that I’m going to forgive you for all the wrong you’ve done? As long as I am a slave, as long as you keep me here against my will, there is no chance of me ever finding happiness.”

“Enough!” Grom threw his glass against the wall, barely missing Slick’s head. It didn’t matter. Sarah had said all she needed to, and the crew had heard every word. His rage was building, and everyone in the room could sense the dragon beginning to take over. Some went to leave, but Grom stopped them. “No, you stay. And you,” he pointed to Sarah, “you come with me.” Still keeping eye contact, Sarah refused to move. “Fine.” Grom made his way around the table and grabbed her upper arm roughly. “If you won’t coming willingly, slave,” his emphasis on the word pierced Sarah’s heart in a way she wasn’t expecting, “I’ll just have to drag you.” And he did. He dragged her out of the kitchen, down the long hallway and into his chambers. She kicked and screamed the entire way, but nobody ventured to help her. Not even Wex, who had popped his head out of his room just in time to see Grom drag Sarah into his and slam the door behind them.