Joy faced the cantina’s dirty restroom mirror, gripping a hunk of her curly brown hair in one hand and scissors in the other. Behind her, a wall-length screen flickered with an ad for inter-alien contraceptive products, haloing her with eerie green light. Just do it, she thought. Hair grows back, no big deal. Except that her Syndicorp CEO Mother was already less-than-thrilled about her taking up reporting, let alone going undercover. On the other hand, if Joy could blow open a pirate ring with a RealTime TV exposé, Mother might finally give her new career some credit.

Never one for tailored pirelux silk clothing or a closet full of shoes to match every outfit, Joy’d toned her wardrobe down even more than usual for this job. Her canvas cargo pants and mechanic shirt were boxy and genderless, and she’d even gone so far as to wrap her breasts to mask her curves. Her editor had hinted at how sensational the story would be from the perspective of a prostitute, but Joy had no desire to demean herself that way. Besides, she had tools other than her tits to secure this story.

Taking a deep breath, she squeezed the scissors. Her long tresses fell away with an oddly satisfying sensation. A lopsided reflection stared back at her with startled brown eyes. No going back now. Her square jaw wasn’t quite manly, but she was plain enough that with the right attitude, she could pass for a boy. And she’d already proven she had attitude doing a year of volunteer work for Syndicorp’s planetary emergency services division in their fleet mechanic shop. Joy’d loved the hands-on work and the smell of hydraulic fluid and hot metal before Mother learned she wasn’t handing out cookies and pulled her.

Satisfied with her hair, Joy pulled mascara out of her purse and dabbed it beneath her nails, rubbing it into her skin for good measure. No one trusted a mechanic with clean hands. When she was satisfied, she once again looked into the mirror, winking her left eye to engage her cybernetic camera. A recording of her reflection would make a decent, gritty opening scene for the exposé. One benefit of having a Syndicorp CEO for a mother was that Joy had access to technology other newbie reporters would die for.

“I’m at the edge of unclassified space, looking for information about pirate activity. These ruthless men and women have been plaguing the shipping lanes since Syndicorp sent its first colonization envoys outside the Alleigh system.” Joy spoke in a husky, conspiratorial tone, glancing over her shoulder at the restroom door. The chances of someone entering were slim to none with the hotel door grav-loc she’d placed against the door stop, but her pulse beat loudly in her ears even so. “Stay tuned as I go undercover into the swashbuckling world of black market trading and deep-space piracy—bleh.”

Sighing, she stopped the camera. She sounded like a game show host. Everything about this broadcast had to be perfect. Serious. Anchor-worthy.

She tried again. “My informant just sent word there’s a notorious pirate in this very bar. I’m going to try to join his crew. For the next few weeks, I’ll be broadcasting the RealTime stories of these men.”

The door rattled. Joy quickly cached the recordings on her polycom to edit later and removed the grav-loc, brushing past the annoyed Saluqan woman outside. “Watch it. Door sticks,” Joy mumbled and dove into the crowded cantina. She had a pirate captain to find.

* * *

Captain Kashatok pried Jhikik’s tail from around the bottle of Kantarellian rum and poured himself another tall serving. Onboard ship, he often drank straight from the bottle. For the purpose of interviewing new crew members, he was attempting to look civilized. He had enough rough edges on his crew, and attracting yet another discipline problem was not in his plan today.

The little netorpok chittered at him in reprimand and climbed up his arm to sit on his shoulder, his lavender fur tickling Kashatok’s ear. Jhikik had come into his possession as a pup, and, much like a real child, liked to nag him about his vice. “Keep it down.”

Too late. A woman who’d been perched on a stool at the bar was heading in his direction, her sizable cleavage jiggling above the low neckline of her tight blouse with every step. Happened every time. First she’d fawn over the netorpok, then turn her attention to the broad-shouldered owner. Women loved a man with a pet. And Jhikik loved the attention.

“There’s a reason I never leave the ship,” Kashatok muttered, glowering at the woman. Female company was never on his agenda and never would be.

Thankfully, the oncoming woman took the hint and veered toward the restrooms. Kashatok rose from his chair and scanned the dark interior of the cantina for his first mate’s shaggy head. Aleknagik was supposed to be escorting prospective shuttle mechanics to the table for interviews. Across the dimly lit floor, cantina patrons parted like an outgoing tide around the tall, copper-skinned Denaidan. About time he found someone. Settling back into his chair, Kashatok downed the rest of the rum in his glass. Aleknagik pulled up to the table and stopped.

Kashatok scanned the conspicuously empty space around to the big man. “Well?”

Aleknagik shook his head. “Word’s gotten around what happened to our last mechanic.”

The muscle in Kashatok’s jaw tightened. “And?”

“No one’s exactly excited to be the next one tossed out the airlock.”

“I have one hard rule. No women aboard my ship.” Not only that, but what the mechanic had been doing to that poor female deserved retribution. Kashatok grabbed the bottle and wrapped his lips around the mouth, taking a long pull of the burning liquid.

Sliding out a chair, Alek sat heavily and leaned forward, both elbows on the table. “Listen, I understand why you made that rule. But with those nanites Captain Qaiyaan found, we might be able to change that. Plus your non-Denaidan crew members might appreciate some leeway.”

Kashatok gritted his teeth. There’d never be a woman for him, nanites or not. He couldn’t be trusted, not after Kiana… He took a calming breath. Anyone who’d known her was dead and gone. And it was none of Aleknagik’s business, anyway. “No. My ship, my rules. If someone’s not okay with that, they can get the fuck off.”

The first mate frowned but kept silent. The Kinship operated with a core crew of Denaidans, none opposed to the no-females rule, but the big ship operated best with a few extra hands on board. And the galaxy wasn’t exactly swimming with Denaidans to fill the spots. Syndicorp had seen to that.

An olive-skinned human appeared just past Aleknagik’s shoulder, wide brown eyes darting between the back of the first mate’s head and Kashatok. The moment their eyes met, Kashatok felt a jolt, a desire to protect that was at odds with the hard-assed captain he tried to be. The kid reminded him of his own first insecure days off planet, seeking jobs in seedy cantinas just like this one. The visitor moved up beside the first mate, both hands shoved deep in the front pockets of his baggy cargo pants. “You’re looking for a shuttle mechanic?”

Aleknagik twisted in his seat, eyes nearly level with their visitor’s. “You know one?”

The young man stretched a hand forward. “Name’s Joey.”

“You?” Aleknagik laughed.

Jhikik leaped from Kashatok’s shoulder onto the tabletop. Kashatok snatched hold of the tip of the creature’s tail, drawing him up short. Not everyone appreciated the creature’s curiosity.

Turning to Kashatok, Aleknagik jerked a thumb toward Joey, eyes dancing with mirth. “What do you say, Captain? Think this qumli could hold his own among our crew?”

The kid was barely old enough to leave his mother’s teat, let alone stand up to a rowdy crew. Kashatok sent out a tightly-controlled ionic pulse. Alcohol dulled his sensitivity, but he could still assess the kid’s heartbeat, breathing, and skin temperature. Joey was nervous, for sure. But his hands were dirty, and the look in his eye was hungry. Would it hurt to let him have his say? Kashatok pushed the rum bottle forward without accepting the handshake. “Have a seat.”

Dropping his hand, Joey pulled out a chair and sat. He didn’t touch the rum. They locked gazes and Kashatok had to hand it to him, the kid didn’t look away. “You don’t seem old enough to be a mechanic.”

Joey shrugged one shoulder. “Only been at it a year, but I’m a fast learner.”

Kashatok retrieved the bottle and tilted back for a long swallow. May as well let the kid see the real him. “You familiar with the CrossX Spacer Elite?”

“Sure.” Joey tilted his head and squinted his eyes in thought. “I helped with a thruster rebuild. And adjusted the flux coil on one of the newer models.”

“Huh,” said Aleknagik, nodding. “Where’re you from?”

Joey scowled. “Why’s that matter?”

Aleknagik dropped his bearded chin to glower back. Jhikik crept forward, eyes on the stranger.

“What?” Joey crossed his arms. “Pirates don’t have pasts. Or they shouldn’t.”

Kashatok repressed a smile. This kid might just be capable of holding his own after all. He stroked his fingertips along Jhikik’s long tail until the little creature spun and batted at his hand. “You heard about our last mechanic?”

The young man’s left eye twitched. “Tell me.”

“Space-locked.” Kashatok paused a moment. Joey’s heart beat so rapidly, Kashatok barely had to engage his ionic senses to feel it.

“By you?”

Kashatok nodded slowly, keeping eye contact. “There’s only one unbreakable rule on the Kinship. No women on board. Think you can handle that?”

Joey took a long breath and let it out slowly. “That’s all? Sounds easy. What’s my cut?”

“Ha!” Aleknagik clapped the young man on the shoulder, rocking him forward. “I like him!”

Joey kept his gaze on the captain.

For some reason, Kashatok hadn’t expected the mercenary question, probably because the kid had seemed more interested in the adventure than the money. “Probation gets you one share. Things work out after the first score or two, we’ll talk more.”

Nodding, Joey once again thrust out his hand. “Deal.”

This time, Kashatok took it. The palm was softer than he’d expected, but maybe that was just a human thing. “We’re parked in slip A21P. I’ll be pulling out as soon as we’re restocked, so I suggest you get your ass aboard sooner rather than later.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

Alek laughed again. “We don’t say that, human.”

Joey licked his lips, and Kashatok found the move oddly disturbing. “Sorry,” said the kid. “I do call you captain though, right?”

“I don’t care what you call me, as long as you do your job.” Kashatok rose, grabbing the rum bottle and holding out an arm for Jhikik. The netorpok gave Joey a longing look, then skittered up to rest on Kashatok’s shoulder.

As Kashatok turned to leave, Joey called out, “I’ll keep your shuttle in top shape.”

Kashatok kept moving. Behind him, he heard Alek giving advice. “Young man like you’s got urges. Long as you take care of them off-ship, you’ll be fine. Oh, and stay away from the captain’s rum.”

Stopping at the crowded bar, Kashatok ordered one last bottle to go.

* * *