Victories were all well and good, but they always left a mess to clean up. Holding the entire freighter crew prisoner by herself took some doing, but the bridge crew were at her mercy, and with some patience their orders resulted in the rest of these wretches gathering in two places. Saketa then got to work confiscating every hand-held weapon she could find.

At one point a man got it in his head to rush her, which triggered a few of his comrades to go along with him. It didn’t work out for them, and there were no further attempts.

She simply broke many of the guns, but kept a few stashed in a locker she let no one else know about. Then she gave the order to start bringing the containers to the main airlock, one by one, and letting the villagers out.

What followed was an even bigger mess of complications. Saketa was a warrior; it was the sole group of skills she had designed herself around, and she felt out of her depth and unworthy in dealing with two thousand traumatised, furious people. Still, she persevered, and did what she could to prevent chaos and murderous retaliations.

The Ranger siblings docked against the freighter, bringing with them the occupants of the sole container that had been brought down to the surface. She was glad for their help, and the humanity they could project so much better than her.

Once things were relatively calm, discussions were held, and she distributed guns to a handful of villagers who seemed level-headed, and promised not to do anything crazy. The freighter did have a brig, but it was nowhere near big enough to hold all the surviving crew. So most of them instead got to stay inside the locked containers. Only those necessary for running the ship got to stay free, although under constant guard by armed villagers.

It seemed a sure thing that at least a few of them would get jumped at some point, possibly even killed. Saketa’s duties included preventing needless cruelty, but she had to accept that she had limits, and couldn’t watch everyone all the time. Besides, there really were better uses of her time.

As the villagers recovered, ate properly, cried into each other’s arms and generally pulled themselves together, they started arranging themselves back into the familiar hierarchies of home. Saketa and Zamm spoke to the village elders, and everyone arrived at an agreement to let the freigther’s engines recover from the hurried flight, then fly back home along the safest possible route. There was some concern over remaining stationary so close to Scorchspace, but Saketa’s presence, and her steely-eyed assurances, did much to allay fears.

Once home, the raiders would face trial. Saketa didn’t know the details of what that meant, nor did she particularly care. After some talk, the elders also agreed that the freighter would be torn up for parts, which would be sold off. Even with a ship this old, the village would prosper.

And so, with systems in place, and a plan in motion, Saketa could finally relax a little.

“Have you started badgering Lesi about the drop-shield again?” she asked.

Zamm grinned.

“Of course. I’m an older sibling. I have a duty to get on her nerves.”

Saketa smiled back at him.

They’d found themselves a little-used corridor for some peace and quiet. Saketa could be patrolling the decks of the ship. She could be meditating, or doing katas or callisthenics, or making little repairs to her suit. She could be spending this time when there was no immediate emergency on being a Warden. But she had learned hard lessons about what that actually meant. She was allowed small breaks. She was allowed to just be Saketa.

“Anyway, what is next for you?” Zamm asked.

“I have not decided just yet,” she replied, and refused to let that fact bother her. “I might just drift and see what I come across. Or I might make my way back to-”

The sound of someone coming shifted both their attention to one end of the corridor. A young woman emerged, holding a slightly unruly toddler in her arms, and muttering a soft song. She didn’t even notice the two of them until they were a few steps apart, and a small start went through her.

Saketa remembered the woman emerging from one of the containers, but felt that the child had come out of a different one.

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The village woman hesitated awkwardly, before clutching the toddler tightly to her with one arm. She then used the other one to touch Zamm on the arm. She muttered something quickly, but sincerely, in that language Saketa didn’t understand. She understood the tone perfectly well, though, as well as the look in her eyes.

The woman shifted to Saketa, and went through another awkward hesitation. Then, moving as if Saketa might suddenly lash out or explode or something, she repeated the gesture, but quickly. Then she continued on, and rocked the child gently, lovingly, as she vanished from sight.

“Do you want a translation?” Zamm asked.

“No need,” she told him.

He cleared his throat, looked at the floor, and she sensed he was about to say something from the heart.

“I’m really glad we pulled this off,” he told her. “These folks… men, women, children… they were going to suffer so terribly. They were going to live brutal lives of degradation and abuse. Two thousand of them. I’m… I don’t know how I would have managed a failure like that. And I’m glad I’ll never find out. And let’s face it: That’s mostly because of you.”

Saketa nodded in acknowledgement. Pride was a dangerous trap, but a Warden had to walk in truth. And Saketa could allow herself some satisfaction over a job well done.

“I know we had a similar conversation already,” he went on. “But now we know how things turned out. So… thanks for coming along. Thanks for all the work you did. The difference you made.”

“You are welcome,” she replied. “Thank you for doing your part.”

“It was a pleasure. Or rather, the result is. Although, uh…”

He looked in the direction of the woman and her child.

“I feel that did confirm some suspicions of mine.”

“And which are those?”

“That you don’t get touched much on your travels.”

He reached out and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. The contact felt nice. Because he was right.

“True,” she told him.

“I mean, I won’t deny that seeing you in action is scary and weird in ways I don’t really have words for. But it’s also clear enough that, well, you’re human. And humans get lonely.”

He shifted his hand to cup her cheek. The warmth of direct skin-to-skin…

She tilted her head a little, leaning into it.

“Mm. What are you thinking, Zamm?” she asked him, in what she hoped was a husky manner.

“That we’ll go our separate ways once this is over. Probably never see each other again. That we’ve been fighting and chasing for days now. That we did genuine good, in this messy little galaxy. So… why not enjoy ourselves? Just a little?”

He let his hand drift down the side of her neck, over the swell of her left breast, down her side, and came to rest on the ambiguous border between hip and ass. And there it rested.

Zamm flashed that boyish smile of his.

“Are you going to break my arm now?”

“Mm.”

She took his wrist and guided his grip further back, into full ass territory.

“Tighter,” she told him, and he obliged.

She felt his fingers through the suit, just harsh enough to be a little bit painful. Just the way she liked it. Then she pulled him into a kiss.

They stayed there for a while, up against each other, touching and tasting. Eventually Saketa decided the engines had been heated up enough, and started nudging him towards an empty bunk room.

“No no no,” he said. “You are the hero of the day. I insist.”

He swept her up in his arms. It was silly, and they both knew it. Which made it okay. So they both giggled like idiots as he carried her into the room. He turned around so she could close and seal the door, and then she undid the buckle on her belt. Her blades fell to the floor, and he carried her to the bed.

It felt nice to be taken care of. She’d have to do some caring in return.

Zamm deposited her on the bed, and she stuck her legs out for him to take her boots off. He dutifully did, fumbling the task just a little bit from excitement. He then did his own bit of preliminary stripping, and a wicked little idea occurred to Saketa. She relaxed where she lay, her head resting on her hands, and continued doing so as he straddled her.

“Sorry, am I boring you?” he said playfully.

“Oh no, I am not bored,” she replied in the same tone.

He got to work trying to open up her suit. And then he continued trying. And trying. His fingers found no purchase, no seam, and got just a little bit frantic until her grin clued him in that she was teasing him.

“Well, how patient are you?” he asked as he crossed his arms. “Shall we see which of us cracks first?”

“Hah.”

She had already waited all she cared to, and the joke had been played. Saketa lightly touched the nigh-invisible seam in that particular way, and opened it up down to her crotch.

“Ah, progress,” Zamm said, and wasted no time in slipping a hand through for direct contact.

But they did allow themselves time. And once they were done, they just enjoyed each other’s silent company. They both deserved it, after all.