Bert picked up the black rectangle that served as his smart phone when it started buzzing. It was the Captain’s face on the screen. It had great resolution, and its sound was a little too clear for his pleasure.

“A stowaway!” Bert hollered, “First you tell me this spy is a girl you know, then you go sayin’ she’s a part of the crew. You can barely afford to pay me, how’re you gonna pay for her?”

“She’s working for almost nothing,” Fade said, “and she’s the only person who’s ever hit it off with Horace like that. We might gain something from this.”

Bert pulled a cigarette from a retractable container, twisted the filter, and placed it in the side of his mouth, “you might gain something from this…..” Bert mumbled.

“What was that?”

“I quit,” Bert said, “just make sure I get my battle pay. I hope your squeeze knows the ship’s layout, I hope she can fix a decalcified, tri-carbonated fusion ring-filter and have the thrusters burning like new in only a day.”

“You’ll teach her a thing or two,” Fade said, completely ignoring Bert’s resignation, “You’re the expert, and her boss.”

“I’ll teach her a thing or two,” Bert grumbled.

“Miss Payson’s part of the crew,” Fade said. “If you want her to leave, make her life miserable; otherwise, deal with it. No funny business and don’t touch her.”

Bert grunted, “Send her down before she starts training. I wanna see what this broad looks like.”

-----

Destiny entered the control room with an uncanny confidence. She wore a clean, perfectly fit, flight uniform. A dark blue sash wrapped tightly around her waist. Grime from the hanger still covered Bert’s uniform; thick streaks ran down his back. His shirt, buttoned lopsidedly, hung outside his pants. Stubble covered his chin. Smoky breath escaped his peeling lips. He turned to greet her with remainder of a cigarette clamped inside his devious smile.

“You certainly are a kitten, no doubt about that. No good can come of it either.”

“Horace asked me to introduce myself.”

“You going to combat training in that pretty new uniform you fluffed up,”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t call me sir,” he growled, “So, you’re an expert on system coding?”

“I am.”

“I’m an expert on this cruiser, anything that breaks here; I fix it. That includes the - programing. You work under me, you do as I say, you don’t - with my work without my say. And from here on out your name is Kitten, got that, Kitten?”

“Excuse me, my name is Destiny, but you probably should refer to me as Sergeant Payson.”

“I’ll call you whatever I damn well please,” Bert said as he flicked ashes from his cigarette, “This isn’t the Imperial Interstellar, and there’s nothing you can do about it. I’m gonna call you Kitten, after a girl I once read about. You kind of remind me of her. Now stand still.”

He surveyed her, walking around her slowly, “Fade’s been holdin’ out on one fine piece of steak. What a body.”

“I don’t belong to anybody,” she blushed furiously.

Bert poked his finger toward her chest, then yanked it back before actually touching her.

“I don’t follow Fade around everywhere like a little kitten. I stay with the ship, so you’ve probably never seen me. And Fade doesn’t say much, so he probably never told you about me. I’m not a nice guy. The captain’s a wuss compared to me.”

She went to slap him, but Bert caught her hand; she tried to kick him, but he knocked her remaining leg out from under her before her foot could reach the target. She fell on her rear.

“A hundred years of training won’t be enough fend off these hands,” Bert laughed. “Don’t go cryin’ to the captain either; I know my limits as far as he’s concerned. If you can’t handle the rough and tumble, then keep in your room till we get back to Hakkut. That’s the best thing you can do anyway.”

“I can deal with you. I’ve met your kind before.”

“Congratulations on making crew, Kitten!” Bert yelled happily; giving her a push to the rear that sent her back out into the hall, “Now go get your combat training.”

-----

The training room began as an empty slate of bright green walls with no relief except for the barely visible outline of an exit hatch. Destiny walked to the middle of the room.

“Okay Horse radish, you gave me the tour and the safety overview,” Destiny said, “I need to learn how to kick some ass, and you’re going to help me. What we need is a solidified hologram, possibly a program that reflect his skills and battle style.”

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

A flexible tube of layered titanium lowered to greet her.

“Training to overcome him by skill may take a while. I’d recommend avoiding him as much as possible. While he may be one of the best mechanics I’ve ever known, his flaws certainly outweigh his virtues. When you have to deal with him, keep it short and to the point.”

“I need to defend myself. I’m not going to be talked down to like that. Let’s get this training started.”

A generic human form of solid peach tone formed beside her.

“Level one opponent. I’ll use this to evaluate your skills, begin.”

The form came at Destiny awkwardly. It sent a blow prematurely, missing her. Destiny approached, hesitated, and pulled out a slow punch with a loosely curled hand while clenching her eyes. She hit her target timidly. The form countered with a punch followed by an uppercut and knocked Destiny back. The figure lunged forward and punched her in the gut, which caused her to curl up on all fours.

“Why don’t we start with the basic exercises? This will require a significant time investment. I’m keeping you here for the next five hours, and assigning you five hours training daily. At the very least, it’ll keep you free from the Lieutenant Slemgut. The Lieutenant hasn’t trained in over three years.”

Two weights formed on the ground, each one had a weight of twenty-two newtons in present gravity. Destiny picked them up.

“Extend your arm outward level with your shoulder,” Horace instructed, “Now, place your palms so that they face the ceiling while holding a weight. Are you comfortable?”

“I can do it, no problem.”

“Maintain that position for half an hour, close your eyes, and meditate. If you lower the weights, I’ll be forced to punish you via electric shock to the back of your neck. When time is up we will move to another exercise.”

“What!” Destiny's arms quivered, “How long do I have to hold these?”

“Half an hour should do, close your eyes, meditate, or punishment. Now please conserve your energy. I have analyzed your muscle structure and have programed a way to maximize it without drastically altering your body shape. This program is centered on enhancing speed and agility, so that your body can keep up with your mind. If you wish to get stronger, I advise this training. Or would you rather take your chances with Lieutenant Slemgut?”

“I’ll do it.”

“Good. Because the captain has already mandated this training until you can fend for yourself. You don’t have much of a choice. Do your best!”

-----

An ice dispenser waited against the back wall. Row after row of empty shelving lined the side walls. There was one package labeled ham, twenty-two newtons worth. Bert rolled the package to discover it had expired a year ago and muttered something as he shoved it back in its spot. He rubbed the stubble on his chin without disturbing the cigarette dangling from his chapped lips as he approached the refrigerated food storage dispenser.

It took a few minutes of prying with a crowbar to pop open the door because the dispenser and the selection screen were both broken.

Jackpot.

A neatly stacked column of ration tubes, each containing synthesized algae paste with added nutritive supplements, proved an acceptable prize. This particular brand of ration tubes lasted almost indefinitely by design, but tasted like sweaty gym socks sprinkled with chalk.

Bert blew a smoke circle as he checked the condiment storage. They still had a liter of mustard, half a liter of ketchup, and some horseradish packets. Fourteen liters of beer strapped on a side rack served as his personal stash, so he ignored it. He considered the inventory.

The only other food items were in dry storage; including, two, twenty-newton, packets of beef jerky, forty newtons of sealed rolls, a five newton bag of pretzels, and two-hundred and fifty newtons of military coffee. Bert closed the machine with his foot and went back to the kitchen. A few quick puffs of his cigarette eased his posture, smoke flowed through his nose as he scratched his behind. While he was scratching Fade entered the kitchen followed by Ace.

“What do you want?” Fade asked Bert.

“You expect me to distribute the excess K-rations to those soldiers, don’t you?” Bert said, “Let Kitten do it, they probably won’t attack her.”

“Kitten?” Ace asked.

“The new girl, stupid,” Bert snapped.

“I was wondering what happened to that girl I saved from the storage room,” Ace said, “I don’t like to spend a half hour searching for somebody only to be left in the dark.”

“You can’t be trusted with the truth,” Fade turned to Bert, “What about the food situation?”

“Yeah, what about the food situation?” Ace interrupted, “I’m starving.”

“We got ration tubes,” Bert said, twisting his cigarette to the off position, “and we have more than enough, but there’s going to be hell to pay when they find out that’s the only thing we got.”

“It’ll have to make due.”

“Wait a second,” Ace said, “First of all, ration tubes are not going to work. I need real food. Second, I want to see that girl I saved. I want to make sure she’s okay.”

“Forget it Ace.”

“No,” Ace snapped, “I won’t forget it. You owe me. Do you think I haven’t noticed the extra stores. Selling supplies at a premium during war, pretty dicey stuff that. One wrong turn and the Imperial Justice Department could put a cold stop to your contraband trade. You should be nicer to your friends, Fade.”

Bert quietly backed away as the two soldiers confronted each other up close with cold stares. Fade had to look up because he was a full head shorter than Ace.

“You’re still an asshole, ehh,” Fade growled, raising his voice, “If your beloved empire would pay me what I’m worth, I wouldn’t have to sell supplies. I’d give them away.”

“Damn Mercenary. You don’t care about the Empire at all. You’re just working for money.”

“Damn right. Because, I didn’t sell out my home for an easier life.”

“You’re living in the past. Quell has integrated into the imperial government. Those who rebelled against the Empire got what they deserved. There was no saving anyone. How many people did you save? Tell me, Fade, how many?”

Silence.

“That’s what I thought. You threw everything away to save nobody. You could have gone places, you had a career, you had skills. You threw it all away for what? Oh wait, yeah, you found a ship in the desert. If it wasn’t for that, you’d be dead too. ”

Fade took a deep breath, regaining his composure, “Ten million people murdered, and I ran away. I won’t repeat the same mistakes.”

“How altruistic. But you can’t save everyone. Do I blame you? Not really. You did what I would do in the end, you and me, we’re…..”

Ace caught the punch and squeezed Fade’s fist until he grimaced.

“-squad mates until the end of time,” Ace finished, “Whether you like it or not.”

A fast punch aimed for Ace’s abdomen was knocked away by an open palm, which countered upward to Fade’s collar bone. The blow pushed Fade into the food dispenser, where he was force to scramble to his feet defensively.

“Still a weakling. You seem to forget who taught you how to fight for real. I want some of the real food you’re hiding away, or there’ll be hell to pay. Got it?”

Fade stood his ground while Ace left the kitchen. When the hatch closed, Fade slid to his knees. The punch had connected hard and had drained him. It was a move Fade had forgotten, Ace’s draining punch, a hit that temporarily prevented the proper flow of energy.

“Bastard,” Fade snarled after he left, “What the hell was Despair’s big idea sending me him?”

“Let it go,” Bert lent Fade a hand to stand up, “Being pissed won’t help ya, forget about him. Stay out of fights. I know there’s bad blood and all, but you’re on the same side, right?”

“I’ll have that discussion with Lieutenant Soel about the food situation.”

Fade straightened his posture, shaking off the hit.

“What about Kitten?” Bert asked.

“She’s being trained, right?”

“Yeah. We don’t have any workin’ escape capsules... so... yah... best she learn as much as she can.”