In the military, we had names for all types of people. Some racist, some sexist, mostly stereotypical. But this was scientific, not just a joke or insult. This had transcended race, culture, religion, or what was between someone's legs. We identified humans into two classes, legs and floaters. Now you are probably asking, "Nathan, what does an extremity have to do to be compared to fecal matter?" Well, it doesn't. I am talking about the ability to enter space or not. Typically, if you are not born in space, you have a hard time acclimating to it. And if you can't or simply feel no desire to leave whatever rock you were born on, we would call you a leg. But if you have left your rock and have adapted to space, or simply born on a space station or a ship. We would call you a floater. See, nothing to do with poop. Now with that out of the way, I am a floater. And I have learned not only to adapt, but to also embrace it.

The ship was no larger than a studio apartment, most of it was an engine. the cockpit had enough room for a small locker underneath the mattress that one would lift up to store clothes and gear. On the opposite side of the room was a closet, only it had a shower that one would have the ability to pull the toilet from the wall to relieve themselves. At the front sat a leather captain's chair, bearing various controls and computer systems. Nathan hated the chair. If he could afford it, Nathan would replace the damned thing and had thrown it out the airlock rather than torture another soul with it's existence. But instead, Nathan had spent most of his money on the H.O.T.A.S and Z-76 modular pistol. Can't work security without a viable method of stopping people from hurting others. Speaking of Airlock, the opposite side of the chair is where it stood. Allowing for access into and out of the small ship. On the sides of the sealed doors, folded chairs strapped to the wall, just in case Nathan ever had a guest over. Nathan was a loner, for the exception of James, his current partner in their minuscule security company.

Nathan Husband, a 26 year old Europan. A tired veteran, sleeping on the fringes of the Oort cloud with his transponder off and his engines running cold. It would be near to impossible to find his ship. Millions of floaters would sleep this way, instead of spending money on a hotel or an apartment, it was far simpler for someone to hit their parking brake and stay there for periods of time. Until it was time to move back into the system for business. Most people would place their ship on a gravitational spin, allowing for a more comfortable sleep in their beds. Not Nathan, he enjoyed the floating sensation on his back. The spinal implants he had installed resisted the effects that zero gravity would have on the normal human. Being on the float was therapeutic, as if all his worries and stress ran off of him into nothing.

An annoying chime rang through the cockpit, bouncing off the titanium walls. Nathan opened one eye to see who was attempting to communicate with him. The panel over the cockpit's glass read 'JAMES TAYLOR.' Nathan sighed, not remembering what time it was. It was almost impossible to keep track without the help of alarms. Ones that he had forgotten to set before he had went on the float and passed out. "Computer, answer." He said with his husky voice. Clearing his throat immediately afterwards.

The system spoke back in a robotic female voice, "Captain, be advised that you are still naked. Would you like me to answer audio only?"

"Yes," Nathan replied as he watched the communication panel light up and bring up a series of instruments. Transmission read, 'DELAY: 3 SECONDS' and 'CONNECTION: GREEN'. The rest was unimportant to Nathan at the moment. James' face came on screen. A Ganymedian, with slightly brown skin. The Filipino heritage still ran deep within his family. Most people today shared many aspects of their race and heritage. Very few still resembled their ancestors' genes. Nathan had forgotten his own family's heritage, American? Hispanic? Russian? It didn't matter to him, nothing more than a trivial curiosity. All that mattered to him was his Europan blood. "James."

"Did you miss your alarms? We were supposed to be warm and ready to go." James said with a light-heart tone in his voice.

Nathan waited three seconds to reply, "Which tells me that you woke up late too. What are we doing today?"

"And you're supposed to be the boss," James laughed. "We have a protection job, Sinatra Station."

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Nathan reached out, grabbing onto the roof, then pushing himself to the ground. Sinatra Station, a space station named after the famous singer from ages ago, on a gravitational rotation around the planet of Saturn. Known for its excessive casinos, hotels, bars, and nightclubs. He never had a reason to go there, fearing that he would shoot someone for annoying him. Nathan sighed, "Can we just deny the contract?"

James laughed once more, "I would, if it didn't pay one million credits. This would set us up for the rest of the decade."

"I'm tired of these stupid jobs. Probably someone wanting protection or wanting to look cool to impress people at a casino." Nathan regained his balance, then floating back to the chest underneath his bed. Pulling his clothes out.

"Hey, a few days of helping some pussy look like someone important. I'll take it."

"I'm tired of it," Nathan slipped on his shirt and jacket after his pants and Grav shoes.

"Well, I'm tired of sucking on protein packs every night for dinner."

"Fair," Nathan floated over to his cockpit, hovering over his chair rather than sitting in it. Tapping at a control panel by the right arm rest. The engine began turned on with a sharp pulse, then falling into a constant soft hum as the systems turned on, one by one. Nathan remembered his old fighter during his time in the Navy. Systems didn't have to power on once at a time. A fighter could be ready to fly at the press of a button. "Give me your heading."

"Standby." James paused as Nathan can tell he was manually flying up to Nathan's ship. The delay counting down to a 0.02 second time delay. "I'm right behind you."

"Give me a kilometer of space," Nathan didn't want to be too safe but not too careless either. Pirates existed, even in the Sol System. He liked having some space between the two so they could respond rather than being trapped. He tapped at a computer panel with a map on it. Selecting the hated space station. "When do we have to be there?"

"4 hours," James watched as Nathan's camera turned on and watched the course be charted on his map as well through the shared data. "You look tired."

"When do I not," Nathan replied snarky. "If we make a light year cruise to the Saturn trade port, and then traversed around the planet at 1.8 x 100,000"

"Nathan, I can read your calculations on the chart. You don't need to make it audible."

"Just making conversation. Trying to make myself feel smarter." Nathan looked around the cabin, ensuring everything was strapped down. It was. Pulling himself down into his chair, buckling himself in. Moving his hands to push the video of James into the upper right hand corner of his screen. "Computer, request cruise verification with Saturn Flight Operations." The computer chimed. It would be a few minutes before he would hear a reply back. Nathan began flipping switches on his H.O.T.A.S. and computer panel. The engines sparked, engaged, and began thrusting the ship forward into space. Correcting his path by entering numbers into a computer panel. James' ship followed a kilometer to Nathan's 4 o'clock.

"Captain, verification received. Request accepted. Please proceed to Saturn Station for transit."

"Thanks," Nathan said. "James ready for jump?"

"Ready, my ship is now paired to yours. Don't kill us." James laughed.

"I'll do my best." Nathan pushed his throttle to 75 percent. The speed that was needed to prime the Eden drive to prepare for a light year cruise. James' ship did the same, following everything that Nathan commanded. "Eden Drive ready. Hold tight." James did exactly that. It didn't matter who someone was, when the Eden Drive would engage, it would throw the body back into the chair and feel as if a stack of bricks were thrown at the pilot's chest. Especially in cheaper older ships. Luxury ships found ways to mitigate the effect but using gravity dampeners. The two ships were launched from going 1,000 Km per second to light speed. Approximately 299,792.458 Km per second. In 8 minutes they would arrive to their destination. After about 30 seconds, the gravitational stabilizers engaged. Allowing for Nathan and James to lean forward once more. The Eden Drive would create a sort of bubble around a ship, making it independent from the space around themselves. Creating it's own gravity inside the bubble, leaving a ship and it's crew no longer in danger from outside physics.

Nathan sat forward, tapping away at his keyboard, bringing up the contract for their job today. A name wasn't attached to the contract, only the agency. 'HEADHUNTERS.' Saying that they were well known was an understatement. Almost anyone could become contracted underneath the Headhunters company, it was almost a social media platform but for bounty hunting. Nathan made a profile and by technicality an employee. However, it wasn't Nathan's style. Regardless, being contracted by this company raised concern. "James," he called out.

"Nathan." James replied almost instantaneous.

"Why did we get a contract from Headhunters and not an individual from the company?"

"Not sure." James watched Nathan start rubbing his face. "You're overthinking again. No one wants to kill us, no one has any bounties on us or wants either of us dead."

"I could think of one or two." Nathan leaned back into his chair again. "Computer."

"Captain."

"Once we drop out of cruise. Connect to the Saturn communication array. Run a search on any mention of Nathan Husband, James Taylor, or Griffin Security Services.