Ina entered the ship through the airlock between the command deck and common room. The whole crew had assembled in the common area to take a meal. Ina found a seat next to Bronco and watched him poke at a fried protein ration with a small fork. The yellow mass broke apart into a messy porridge that reminded her of Qeryh. Ina stole the remaining whole piece of protein from Bronco's plate, ignoring the sulking glare of the aging mercenary.

"I haven't been eating well," she offered in apology.

Colin broke the silence that followed. "You know, we need a name for this ship."

Rolf shouted from the command deck's open hatch. "It's just a shuttle. Shuttles don't get names."

Colin looked at Bronco and watched him open another pouch from the ration kit. Greasy noodles spilled onto the plate in a tight clump, and Ina started to pick at those as well. Bronco gently batted her away. Colin thought for a moment, and felt inspired.

"How about the Seashell of Destiny?"

Bronco grumbled. "This is pretty big for a shuttle. Pretty much a full frigate, by volume. Just light enough that it's down a class. Besides, we've been inside her for a while. Yeah, the Seashell of Destiny." Bronco turned his head towards the command deck. "Rolf, does that piss you off? The Seashell of Destiny?"

"Yes. Shut it. We're doing work up here! Have you ever even seen a seashell?"

Colin cackled. "Seashell it is."

Layla's face left an impression on the overhead monitor as the image dimmed and the Shore of Destiny broke away, setting a course for a distant location. Rolf watched the engines burn gently so the shuttle wouldn't be caught in the vacuum-wash; his brother was usually far less polite than this.

Rolf's credit chip flashed, confirming the remote deposit. Fifty thousand credits. He distributed five thousand credits each to the crew members and left the rest on the chip. He would explain the finances later; if the crew agreed, he had a plan to spend the money, and the conversation would be easier if he didn't have to ask for money back.

Liam studied Ina from across the room. He decided he would try and lighten the moment, and shouted a friendly jab at her. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

Ina ignored the comment. Liam continued, emboldened by her silence. "Come on. You went over there for thirty five kiloseconds. I've been stuck here. I'm going to have to live vicariously through you, or I'll shrivel up and die inside."

She shrugged. She had not cleaned herself before returning to the shuttle, and was aware that her hair was messy and her face was smudged with the tint of foreign lip balm. The effect wasn't excessive, but obvious enough. "I was not aware you were interested in my activities."

Rolf stumbled down from the command deck. His hair had been growing during the trip, leaving a short, black fuzz, and he seemed younger and more rested.

"Wondered if you were coming back."

"Yes."

Rolf raised his eyebrows, and rubbed his hands across the wrinkles of his scalp. "Did they offer you a job?"

Ina looked at Rolf. He hadn't expected her to return, but she saw no reason she shouldn't be welcome. "I'm here. Does it matter?"

Rolf shook his head. "No. Just curious - glad you're here. Well, where to next? Suggestions?"

Ina maintained her gaze on the captain. "The Library of Alexandria. A research facility on a Quorum ship that's changed trajectory as a result of the potential for war."

Rolf threw his hands up. "What?"

"Yeah. It's on a generation ship in this sector. It was on the network video earlier. It's a communications hub," Colin said. "Nirvana-2, right?"

"Generation ship, huh. Well, I've got credits to spend," Bronco said.

Liam scanned Bronco's face. "Oh-by-the-way. Welcome to Gorman space. No gambling, no sex, no drugs. Even on Quorum ships. In fact, what Ina's been doing for the last shift would get her shoved out an airlock if the wrong cleric finds out."

Bronco shoved his plate in front of Ina and put his head down on the table. "What? Ugh. Yeah. I remember."

Colin said, "Well, there's always the Osiris."

Rolf stared intently at Colin. "You wanna fix it? Get the ship back into the fight?"

Colin nodded with a finger in the air. "An option. Just an option. But we've got to be close with the money?"

Ross raised a hand. "The Osiris?"

Rolf slowly swept his eyes across the room, ending at Ross. "Regarding the money, not remotely. Ship's the Hand of Osiris. My war frigate. Smaller than the Destiny, but faster and better armed. From a previous life."

Ross asked, "So you want to take on mercenary work?"

Colin thought about it for a moment. "We're not that far, actually."

Liam gestured at Rolf. "I thought you just wanted to settle down, maybe smuggle some food."

Colin shouted at the ceiling. "Pathik!"

The navigator stumbled out from the command deck and joined the conversation. "Yeah?"

"Pathik. Can you run some courses?"

"Sure. Where?"

Colin looked at Ina. "Find out where the Nirvana-2 is."

Rolf said, "And what do you think about paying a visit to Arcturus? I think we're not going to find a whole lot of work on this Nirvana."

"Ok. The Arcturus is close - I've been tracking her for navigation. Less than a megasecond, if you're willing to stomach a short, short one-hundred-and-fifteen kilosecond pull through a gravity gate. The Nirvana, well, I don't know. If we go to Arcturus, we're headed in the right direction," Pathik said. "Someone want to do some reading?"

Ina shrugged and repeated Colin's earlier quip. "An option. Just an option."

Ross looked at Rolf. "More about this warship? Spaceworthy?"

Bronco said, "Sort of. Banged up and put into storage. But maybe we can salvage some parts? Probably easier to come up with the list of what worked when we shut it down, than the list of what was broken."

Ina grabbed a packet of food and headed out of the common area, returning to her quarters.

Rolf towards the crew area, hoping to get clean and have a bit of sleep. "Pathik, you're on point."

Colin looked at his captain. "Boss, you got a problem with Ina?"

"What do you mean?"

Bronco said, "You were drinking a dozen kiloseconds ago and bitching about how she was sleeping with your brother."

Rolf shook his head. "I shouldn't have said that. My brother's a good man."

Liam laughed. "No, not really. Besides, you're wrong."

Rolf looked at Liam, frustrated at the topic the young man seemed to find so amusing. "Wrong?"

"Yeah. Arius doesn't wear lipstick."

Rolf stomped back up the command deck stairs. Ross turned towards Liam and shook his head.

Liam asked, "You had your hopes up?"

Bronco coughed. "Gentlemen, this conversation seems inappropriate. Where were we heading again?"

***

Arcturus-16 welcomed the travelers and the credits they brought to the station. Rolf promised that the place would be relatively safe, but reminded the newer crew members that the free station had the normal share of poverty. There were reasons the station had been chosen to stash the Osiris, not all of them aligned with law and order.

The place drifted in free space near the Gorman-Embinguni border. The station had become a staging area for mercenaries and a refuge for Gormans with the wealth to travel for pleasure. Station security made themselves visible by wearing bright green uniforms with integrated body armor. The guards weren't clean-cut Benefactors that belonged on a Quorum station, but rather professional thugs who were mostly concerned with preventing theft or casual violence. They were quite effective.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Ina wandered into the station's hub after docking and was surprised at the plethora of stores and outlets. Not just commercial food and clothing, but weapons and components were sold openly in casual booths. Ammunition, of course, was strictly regulated; it would be delivered only to departing ships. Despite being positioned in free space, Arcturus was not an uncivilized station.

Bronco perused the weapons counters with Ross for two kiloseconds, handling every gun that could be found. The pair wondered how many of these weapons had been salvaged from the dead. Bronco finally decided the number large, judging by the remnants of flesh and blood hidden within the grip checking and various internal crevices. The weapons had not been cleaned or maintained. The arms were excellent, though: Quorum Personal Defensive Weapons, small pistols with a large ammunition capacity; over-powered hand-cannons; body armor; and high-end recoil-less rifles. Bronco made a note to talk with Rolf about outfitting the crew if they expected to enter combat. They had also left a small stash on the Osiris, locked in the cargo bay, and would need to recondition everything.

Satisfied that his ship had not rotted from age or abuse, Rolf spent his time scouting for repair technicians. Aside from Pathik and Colin, he ignored the rest of the crew and encouraged them to put their time towards their own ends. He was pleased that this happened.

Colin and Rolf discussed the languishing ship repairs and their inability to find skilled engineers who could fix the parts. Replacements were unavailable. Colin asked Rolf directly why he hadn't asked Ina for help; she had supported the shuttle effectively.

The captain gave in after two hundred kiloseconds had passed on the station, and asked the entire crew to meet for a meal in the hub. The seven sat around a table and discussed their future.

After ordering pitchers of wine for the table, Rolf launched into discussion. "We're having trouble finding engineers to work on the Osiris. I can't even get bids. When the Destiny paid us, I held a little back, hoping I could make this pan out, get the ship on the line at least. So we've got to start talking about whether the Osiris remains a lost cause. We're gonna burn through too much of the budget towing it somewhere, and I don't really feel comfortable taking her out as she sits."

Colin agreed. "Well, there was a reason we left it here in the first place. No navigation, no weapons, no communications. Fading life support. It's a floating engine. I have no problem buying into the war, but not like that. I thought we had the money, at least if we sold the shuttle, I thought we'd have the money to fix her up. There were techs all over the place here when we dropped her off. Strange to find the place so empty."

The wine arrived and Bronco poured the liquid into large, clear cups that were typical for cheap beer purchased from the various stalls. The wine was thin, transparent, and watered-down. Pathik shrugged, commenting that the liquid wasn't really wine, anyway, just a mix of water, synthesized ethanol, and a trivial amount of chemical flavoring. Ina sipped the fluid and found the assessment quite exact.

Ross decided to add his thoughts as he chewed on fritters made from recycled carbohydrates. There was a faint flavor reminiscent of whatever the fritters had been... before. "Well, Arcturus has good communications, right? And we're not in a rush. Besides, I looked at the damage, and it's all... I mean, the armor's in ok shape. Mostly you're dealing with lots of small, broken components. It's more neglect than outright damage that's keeping the Osiris from moving. Maybe we bring a pro in from off-station, but that's going to cost."

Liam asked, "Boss, I hate to be the one to ask hard questions, but have you been avoiding any of us?"

Rolf met Liam's eyes. "Liam, I've lost a few crew members in combat. So I want to be clear, if anyone here wants to find their own way, Arcturus-16 is as good a place as any in free space to set out."

Colin slapped the table. "I'm out. Gone. Done."

Pathik grinned and joined in the joke. "Me too. You need to find a new pilot."

Rolf punched Pathik on the shoulder, and droplets of wine flew onto the table and floor. "You two are exempt. Not allowed to quit."

Ross asked, "Well, how many does it take to crew your ship?"

Rolf thought. "Don't think about it that way, because every one at this table contributes. But since you asked, she's at full combat effectiveness with four. But then we end up like my brother, working long shifts and setting the controls to auto when we want to sleep. Not safe in a war. When the Osiris was a Quorum ship, it ran with a complement of twenty to forty. But we're not transporting cargo or personnel, and that was a big function of that crew. I don't know. I guess the reality is that it's always been five or six of us."

Ross nodded and gulped more of the wine. The drink didn't taste bad and was as effective as it was inelegant. Liam poked Ina's side under the table, and she stared at him until he explained. "Your turn."

"Rolf, why haven't you asked me to check on your ship?"

"What? You could have asked for the access code."

Liam's head bobbed in agreement. Ina continued. "I'm fulfilling the function of engineer on this crew. You placed a job order without ever talking with me. I didn't want to ask for your codes after that."

Rolf shook his head. "Ina..."

The girl locked eyes with him. "No, I do understand. You could have paid me to fix what I could and then left me here, but you wouldn't consider even that. What did I do wrong?"

Rolf rubbed his face roughly, frustrated. She was right. "Ina... nothing against you, really. I guess I just don't feel like you've got what it takes. It's not that you're a woman, or young, just that... well, you're inexperienced. Bronco told me that you were upset having to kill that monk on Qeryh. War's coming and people like you... kids who aren't committed get chewed up if you're in the wrong place. And even if you survive, guess what we do in war? Kill the other guy. And sometimes the other guy isn't a bad person like that shithead cleric. Usually it's some merc like you or me who just ended up on the wrong end of a hot cannon. Some of us can deal with that. You're a fantastic kid, but I'm not convinced you can."

Ina disagreed. "My safety is my own concern. My ethics are my own concern. And we're talking about repairing damaged systems. You don't make sense."

Rolf released a cloud of frustration from his lungs. "You don't get it. Your ethics are my concern when I need you to rig explosives. Your ethics affect me when I need you to dump poison gas into a life support system. Because when you don't follow through with the plan, the people I'm responsible for, my crew dies. And I don't want to ask you to repair the Osiris when I don't plan on taking you with us when we do go to war. You're missing an obvious and crucial piece of the puzzle, too. The Quorum doesn't hire mercenaries. We do this, we're not gonna be working for them."

Ina took a swallow from the glass in front of her. "I visited the Hand of Osiris even though you did not ask. I can repair the damage, at least those systems you are most concerned with. However, I have decided to travel to the Nirvana-2. I think this will result in our parting ways. The likelihood of that station having profitable work there for you or your crew is negligible."

Rolf relented. "Fine. I could use your help getting the Hand of Osiris space-worthy. And there's not much value for a stolen Quorum shuttle in Gorman space. Let's see what you can get done, and if that's worth a shuttle."

Ina shivered. "Thank you. I will help you with repairs to your ship, for a time."

Pathik glared at Rolf. "You're gonna give her the shuttle? We should have talked about this privately."

Bronco said, "Seashell of Destiny."

***

"The auto-repair system is now functional."

"What do you mean, now functional?"

"I'm lazy. I did not wish to manually repair the damage to the Osiris, so I have initiated the machine-repair systems instead."

"You can't fix auto-repair. That's Quorum black box tech."

"One can not access docking bays without access codes, either. Yet so I did. Walk with me and observe."

I'm a starship, Ina thought to herself. This is what I do.

Rolf followed Ina to the command deck, where she directed Pathik to activate the equipment. Tiny drones the size of a fingernail swarmed the dry-dock bay and began re-processing elastomer, repairing armor, and restoring damaged circuitry.

Rolf was stunned. In less than half a megasecond, the Hand of Osiris would be ready for space travel, and more, might survive combat. The auto-repair had never been active under Rolf's command. It couldn't keep up in a tactical situation, but in hit-and-run skirmish... Rolf's heart began to pound.

Ina glared. "You can't tell anyone. Ever. There was no other way."

***

Bronco saluted Rolf.

"Boss. I would like to go with Ina."

Bronco looked at Ina and his dark skin flushed. "Ma'am, if that is acceptable."

Ina frowned for a moment. "Yes. We should have talked about this before now."

Liam said, "Me too."

Rolf coughed. "Both of you?"

Ina said, "What? We will discuss this before making a decision. Outside. This was unexpected."

Colin shrugged and shook his head. "You were going to crew that shuttle all by yourself? I suppose you could, but you seem to sleep an awful lot."

Liam threw a mock salute towards Ross, and walked side-by-side with Bronco and Ina out of the dry-dock bay.

"You are welcome to join me. But you may find my journey does not interest you. I'm in the mood for a vacation and some research."

Liam shook his head. "Don't get me wrong, Ina, er, Captain, but it's more that I don't see myself enjoying getting blown up. Not for the Gormans, at least. I'm queer. They hate people like me. I ended up in the Quorum police because that's where they stuck me, not because I like banging heads together. You'll find I'm a gentle soul deep inside. And anyway, Rolf's crew isn't me, and I don't know that you are, either, but I trust you, and I'm not going into a war against the Quorum. So my choice was go to war, or go with you, and yeah, I'm with you."

Bronco said, "Yeah. It's not just Rolf, it's this whole place. Rolf always has to pick fights to try and prove himself. You don't, but when it happened, you pulled through. Whether it was carrying some kid you didn't even know onto our shuttle, or... You proved yourself on Qeryh, walking into that place ass-naked and defenseless, and then back out with everyone, swinging a damn sword. Rolf was busy gloating and pushing them away, meanwhile, we're all in awe with how you pulled that off. He couldn't do that. He couldn't fix the Osiris. Liam's got it. I'm getting older. Better to be on a Quorum ship when you're my age."

***

"What if the others find out too soon?" Meghan wondered aloud. The dim ambient light in the Destiny's rear common area shone on her meticulously tanned skin. "What's your plan for that?"

Grigory powered the terminal down. "Even if they do, so what? Once we're done, we're golden, and they're probably better off for it. A comfortable prison sentence is better than the short life we're all headed for."

Meghan shrugged and lifted her white A-shirt up, over her head, and off. She tossed the flimsy cloth to the side and grinned at Grigory. She was wearing a skirt and nothing else. "Yeah. This would have gotten us killed sooner or later. The Ura might know who we are now. Maybe we could find a nice little nook and let this blow over?"

Grigory stared. Meghan was perfect. "That's the plan."

Grigory wrapped his arms around Meghan and enjoyed the warmth of her skin against his own. She planted a slow kiss on his lips and pushed him onto the floor. Kissing down his chest and stomach, she stopped at a button, then tugged his pants open. She teased him out and touched him with her lips and tongue. Grigory's hands pulled her skirt-waist higher, up from around her hips and to her navel. She straddled Grigory and gently guided him with a practiced gasp.

Meghan placed both of her hands on Grigory's chest and worked his shirt upwards, exposing his delightful olive skin, manicured and chiseled. Satisfied with the view, she supported her body with her knees while she shifted her waist. Meghan moaned softly. She let her eyes focus when she saw something in the hallway outside the open door of the common room.

Her eyes widened and a look of pleasant surprise spread across her face. Grigory saw the expression and lifted his torso on an elbow and twisted his head around to see. Layla was standing there at the entrance to the lounge, arms crossed.

"Really? Don't you two have a stateroom? Can you not get the nasty on in my lounge?"

The surprise faded into a deep blush, and Meghan pressed her hips deep into Grigory's pelvis.

"Thanks, jackasses," Layla grunted.

Meghan put her arms behind her hair, straightened her back, and sighed contentedly. "If you don't want to watch, maybe you could go pilot the ship or something?"

Layla rolled her eyes and continued to the command deck.