“What the hell’s going on?!” I yell.

“What’s going on is that that KEMA-X you just put a hole in is about to circle around and try to hit you from the front,” Kash’s voice answers over the line.

Byer looks at me, confused.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” I tell him with a nod. I’m realizing now how screwed I would’ve been if he hadn’t insisted on tagging along. I have no idea how he’s able to handle the Chrysanthemum so well, but frankly, I don’t care.

“Look alive, MASSA, I’ve got your six,” Kash’s voice says.

“We’ve got one at 11 o’clock,” Byer says.

Without hesitating, I hit the oncoming ship with a series of photon bursts. I keep firing as he starts to drop back, not letting up until he’s practically at our 8 o’clock. If Kash actually is here to help us, I don’t want him getting caught in the crossfire.

I wait, but our hull doesn’t take any more hits.

“They’re pulling back,” Byer calls over from nav, “All but one.”

Kash. I’d love to know what he’s doing out here, but I’m pretty sure if he had any sinister intentions, we’d know by now.

“Hey, that was pretty fun,” he says over the comms line. “We gotta do that again sometime.”

“Are you gonna tell me what you’re doing here?” I ask.

“You mean besides saving your ass?” he asks playfully.

Yeah, yeah. I roll my eyes. Though, he’s not wrong.

“You left something back on Pajorat,” he says. “I thought I’d bring it to you.”

My mind immediately races to C-CIL and Shae. Could he really have found them without knowing who he was looking for?

“Give me your transport codes, and I’ll send it over,” he says. Then it hits me—he’s talking about the rest of the fuel I left on the dock. Part of me is disappointed and the other part relieved. As glad as I’d be to see C-CIL and Shae, the point is to keep them out of danger, not throw them right into the middle of it.

“My demat remat is glitchy,” I answer.

“Your what?” Kash asks, with obvious confusion.

“My demat remat. What, you think I’m gonna say dematerializer-rematerializer every time?”

“J. Tell me you don’t seriously call it that,” he says. “You’re messing with me, right?”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Byer looks over his shoulder at me.

“He has a point.”

“Well, whatever you wanna call it, it doesn’t work,” I say, slightly annoyed.

“Good!” Kash says.

“Good?”

“Now I get to see you again.”

I wait in the hall outside the dock and chew my lip. It’s getting to be a bad habit these days.

I’m still not entirely sure what to make of Kash, but he’s proven to be pretty helpful thus far. I wonder how I’m going to explain my decision to bail on Gallus to him.

I check with Chrys to make sure we’re clear before releasing the door locks, and a moment later, Kash steps through.

“Long time no see,” he says with a grin.

I can’t help but return his smile. This is the second time he’s come to my aid without my even having to ask. Or is it the third? I want to trust him. I want to believe that he’s here to help. But I guess the question is whether I can trust my own judgement.

“So where do you want all this?” he asks, nodding at the pallets of fuel behind him.

I had Byer stay back on the bridge in case we get any more surprise visitors, so all the loading falls to me and Kash. It’s laborious, to be sure, but the work is made lighter by his presence.

Most of the fuel ends up in a cargo bay—the engine room annex is already pretty full—and we reward ourselves for a job well done by sprawling out across the cool floor of the bay to rest for a few minutes.

“Hey,” Kash says, rolling over and propping himself upon his elbows, “I’m glad you’re okay. You had me a little worried taking off like that.”

“Yeah, I just—” I try to think of something convincing, “panicked, I guess.” It’s far enough from the truth that I don’t feel like I’m giving anything away but close enough that I don’t feel guilty about lying to someone who’s risked his own ship for mine. I can feel him looking at me, but I keep my gaze fixed on the ceiling.

“At the risk of being overly familiar,” he says, “I’m kind of starving. How’s your synthesizer?”

I slide a plate across the table to Kash. He looks down at it and then back at me.

“What is this?” he asks uncertainly.

“You said you wanted to try my favorite thing we have onboard, right? This is it.”

He looks down at his plate again, possibly beginning to regret his decision to trust my taste in food. Synthesized pizza is admittedly not nearly as good as the stuff you get on-world, but even so, it’s my absolute favorite food on the ship.

I take a bite of my own pizza, demonstrating that it’s nothing to be afraid of. Kash picks up his slice, examining it briefly, and takes a bite. He chews thoughtfully, his face going through a variety of emotions, from confusion to interest to concern, but he continues to eat it, not speaking again until the entire thing is gone.

“Well?” I ask, curious to hear his reaction. I don’t know if I’m expecting him to like it, but if it was truly awful, he surely would’ve stopped eating at some point.

He dusts his hands off and thinks for a minute.

“That’s one of the worst things I’ve ever eaten in my life,” he says at last. “Why was there pineapple on it?”

I break into laughter and Kash follows suit. I guess when he said he was starving, he meant it.

“I don’t know,” I say, finishing the last of my own slice. “I guess you either love it or you hate it.”

“Well, I definitely hate it,” he says, picking up his glass and taking a large swig.

I shake my head, still laughing to myself.

“You know, you didn’t have to eat the whole thing.”

“Doesn’t that make it even more impressive that I did?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

I am impressed. Less so by the whole pizza thing, but I’m impressed by how easy it is to be around him.

Kash pushes his plate aside and rests his arms on the table. He leans across, staring intently at me for a long minute. I suddenly feel incredibly self-conscious, but meet his gaze nonetheless.

“Mind if I ask you something?” he says. Even without light pouring in through the glass, his eyes have a way of shining, dancing brightly with energy.

“Shoot,” I nod, hoping to come across as nonchalant, even though I don’t feel it.

“Be honest,” he says, looking at me seriously for a moment before a smile begins to tug at the corners of his mouth. “Did you miss me?”