Beya followed Kalan onto the ship. He headed to the bridge first and asked Em to assemble the appropriate data and recordings. That was pure theater since Kala would do the actual work, but he’d long ago agreed that Kala got to decide who knew she existed. After that, Kalan gave Beya a quick tour. They stopped by engineering, but Petronan wasn’t back from his shopping trip with Fresia. Without the engineer there to talk about things or pull up displays, the room was really just a collection of consoles.

Beya lifted an eyebrow at him and said, “Fascinating.”

“I thought the engineer would be here,” admitted Kalan. “If you stare at that bulkhead and imagine hard, you can see the engine.”

Beya snorted. “You’re right. You’re not that funny.”

“I did warn you.”

“How do you access the engine?” Beya asked, giving the wall a perplexed look.

“If you’re lucky, you never do. It’s cramped and dangerous. I try to leave it to port or station crews who know what they’re doing.”

“Smart,” said Beya, nodding in approval.

“In an emergency, there’s an access space. I’d have to be pretty desperate to send someone in there while the engine was active, though.”

“Radiation?” Asked Beya.

“If there was a catastrophic breach of some kind, sure, I suppose there could be. Mostly, it’s the heat. There’s shielding to protect the rest of the ship. Plus, the cold vacuum of space makes a pretty good heat sink. Inside the actual engine compartment, though, there’s nothing that can protect a person for long in those temperatures. The best suits that civilians can get for that kind of heat buy you twenty or thirty minutes. I’ve heard there are some military-grade suits that can get you maybe double that long. I have no idea if that’s true, not that we could get them.”

“Thirty minutes? That’s not very long to make repairs, is it?”

“On something as complicated as a ship’s engine, no, it’s not. Like I said, I’d need to be desperate to ask someone to do that. It’s not exactly ordering someone to their death, but it’s not very far off.”

Beya gave him a look that he couldn’t quite translate into any one emotion.

She hesitated, then finally said, “You weren’t ever a soldier, were you?”

He gave the question a moment of thought. He’d been asked variations of that question more than once over the years and never had a good answer. He knew that, in some ways, he’d been far, far better trained for combat than most soldiers. He suspected that his training had been more brutal as well. In other ways, though, he had only theoretical knowledge of what soldiers actually did. He possessed almost zero practical knowledge about operating as part of a group in large-scale combat. He also knew next to nothing about heavy weapons, let alone things like armored vehicles and combat aircraft. The biggest weapon he’d trained with was a blaster rifle. For that matter, his people rarely operated in groups larger than four, and then usually in two-person teams. He realized with a start that he knew a lot more about operating against larger, better-armed groups. His parents and instructors had called it asymmetrical combat. He shook his head.

“No, I wasn’t ever a soldier,” he confirmed.

Beya looked at him for a long time. “It’s something they try to prepare you for once you promote beyond a certain level. Giving those kinds of orders, I mean. I never thought about it before I joined. I knew that I might be in danger, might even get killed. That’s part of the job. I just never imagined myself having to give people orders that could get them killed. The burden of command, I guess, or part of it.”

“How did you come to terms with it?”

Beya laughed. “Me? I didn’t. I’m getting out. I’m pretty good at taking orders, but I have no interest in leading kids not much younger than me into combat. I’ve got about half a year left, then I’m done.”

Kalan groped for something to say. “What will you do then?”

“Avoid my mother. She had high hopes for my glorious military career,” said Beya with a shrug that seemed a little too practiced to be casual. “Beyond that, I have no idea. Maybe I’ll buy myself a freighter ship and become your competition.”

Kalan grunted, “You won’t be my competition. I don’t plan on spending any time in Kessellian space for the foreseeable future. I rarely worked there before, so it’s not like I’m giving up on anything.”

Beya laughed again and then trailed off. “Wait. You’re serious?”

“After that story the duke told everyone, can you blame me? I plan to steer well clear until that story dies down.”

Beya shook her head. “It won’t work.”

“What? Why not?”

“You don’t understand Kessellians very well. Lord Alland has a lot of friends and even more admirers. You saved his life. People will throw work at you just so they can say they met the man who saved Lord Allande. They’ll offer you more than the jobs are worth. The king may even summon you, just so can he give you some award he makes up on the spot.”

“I don’t have to take the work,” said Kalan, knowing how naïve that was even as he said the words.

Beya lifted an eyebrow. “You’d really turn down high-paying work from a bunch of nobles who take that kind of thing personally?”

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Kalan rubbed at his eyes for a second and muttered, “Damn you, Edmus.”

Beya gaped at him for a second at those words before her expression turned sympathetic. “You can probably dodge it for a while. You said that you don’t usually work there. You can make excuses about existing contracts. After that, though, you’ll have to just put up with it. For a year or two, they’ll run you ragged moving things from here to there and saying, ‘Oh, since you’re here, you should attend this completely impromptu party we’re throwing.’ Then, they’ll get bored and find something else to be excited about. You’ll make a fortune along the way, though.”

“Any idea how long I can avoid them?”

“Maybe a year, if you keep yourself very busy back wherever it is you come from.”

“I can be very busy,” said Kalan, before he did something that surprised even him. “Do you want a job?”

Beya opened her mouth, closed it, blinked a few times, and then said, “What?”

“When the time comes that I can’t keep putting them off, do you want a job? Like you said, I don’t understand Kessellians. I’ll need someone to help me navigate the waters.”

Beya looked around at the engineering cabin like she was really seeing it for the first time. There was a kind of deep longing in her face.

“I’m not a noble,” she said. “I don’t know how much help I could really be.”

Kalan smirked as he thought of a solution to that problem. “I think I know someone who can help with that. I’ll contact Lord Alland and ask him to tutor you on the subject. After you finish your stint in the Marines, of course.”

Beya went pale. “You can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“Because, because, because he’s Lord Alland!”

“I know. Who better to educate you on the subject of nobles than a noble? Besides, he wouldn’t want me to tarnish my reputation. The best way to do that is to make sure I’ve got someone on hand who can steer me in the right direction.”

“I,” said Beya.

“Excellent,” interrupted Kalan. “It’s settled then. I’m sure your mother will be happy to know that you’ll have gainful employment with a hero of Kessellian people.”

Beya glared at him. “You’re still bad at flirting.”

Kalan regarded her for a moment. “Let me ask you something, Sergeant. Would you want me to flirt with you, even if I did know how?”

She frowned at him, but there was a merry twinkle in her dark eyes. “Of course I want you to flirt with me. It’s fun, and I’m pretty. I just don’t want you to mean it, at least not too much. You’re not really my type.”

“How about we settle on me just saying you’re pretty from time to time and not flirting badly.”

“Way to suck the joy out of it. Fine. Tell me I’m pretty.”

“You’re very pretty,” Kalan said.

“Well, at least you sound like you mean it when you say it. That’ll have to be good enough.”

“So, we have a deal?”

Beya held up a finger, “I reserve the right to make you learn how to flirt properly at some point.”

“Why make that a condition?”

“I may get bored, and it would amuse me. Consider it the cost of strong-arming me into this.”

Kalan shook his head, but said, “Done. Alright, Em should have those files ready by now.”

Kalan led her back to the bridge. Em held out a crystal to Kalan. Kalan plucked the crystal from the robot’s metal fingers, glanced at it briefly, then handed it over to Beya.

“That should go straight to Berclin,” said Kalan. “Not that I don’t have utter faith in your ambassador’s good intentions, but I’d rather he never handled that crystal.”

“The ambassador isn’t worth a damn. I’ll make sure Captain Berclin gets this,” said Beya, pocketing the crystal.

“I’ll walk you out,” said Kalan.

Beya seemed lost in her own thoughts as they walked, so Kalan let his mind wander to Fresia and Petronan. Where were they? He’d expected them to be back by now. He hoped there wasn’t any trouble. Kalan had rarely been so eager to leave a place behind. When they reached the airlock, Beya looked over at him.

“Why offer me the job?” She asked.

“Why not offer you the job?”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

Kalan smiled a little. He might not be able to flirt, but he was very good, almost preternaturally good, at spotting someone who had bad intentions. “Is there something in particular that I should know?”

“Well, no.”

“Will you make me regret it?”

Beya stood up a little straighter. “No, I won’t.”

“Then, I don’t see a problem.”

“I could be lying to you.”

“You’re not.”

Beya cocked her head a little to one side and said. “You sound very sure of that.”

“It’s because I am very sure of that.”

Beya offered him a half-smile. “You’re an odd man, Captain Rinn. Okay, say it.”

“Say what?”

“You know what.”

“You’re very pretty.”

“Yes, I am,” said Beya.

With a laugh and a wave, she stepped through the airlock. Kalan watched her disappear back into the port complex. A little part of him wondered if he’d made the right decision offering her the job, but it was a very little part. He had an intuition about her. He didn’t think she’d spend more than a year or so on the ship before some better opportunity presented itself. Still, he did think that she’d work very hard to do right by him and the ship. As he went to close the airlock, he saw Fresia and Petronan making their way toward the ship. Fresia looked guilty. Petronan looked like he’d come out on the wrong side of a fight. He was leaning heavily on the girl as he limped toward the ship. One of his eyes was swollen and purple. There was also blood, most of it dried, all over one side of his face. Kalan rushed down to them. He took Fresia’s spot under Petronan’s arm.

Kalan looked at Fresia and asked, “What happened?”

“I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault,” she said. “It’s all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” slurred Petronan.

Kalan realized neither of them was in a state to tell him anything like a coherent story. He got everyone aboard and sealed the airlock behind them. He opened a comm channel to the bridge.

“Em, get us away from this gods forsaken port before a dragon appears and eats my ship.”

“A dragon, captain?” Em replied through the comm. “Are there extant dragons on this world?”

Kalan reminded himself that Em was an invaluable resource. “Just get us en route to the southern continent.”

“Yes, Captain. Right away.”

Kalan helped Petronan down to the medical suite while Fresia fretted around them. Once the ship finished the medical scan, Kalan felt his tension ratchet down several notches. Petronan’s injuries really did look worse than they were. He had some bruised ribs and had taken at least one serious blow to the head. That blow had opened a small cut that had bled a lot, the way even minor head wounds were prone to do. He’d strained some tendons and ligaments in his knee, but there was no permanent damage. There was also some bruising to the knuckles on both his hands. It seemed that Petronan had landed some solid blows. While the ship had run the scan, Fresia had stood next to the injured engineer, holding his hand in both of hers and periodically whispering that she was sorry.

“He’ll be alright,” Kalan told the girl.

She looked up at him. “He will?”

Kalan handed her the pad that showed the results of the scan. She frowned down at the pad. Kalan realized that she didn’t know how to interpret what she was seeing.

“He needs some rest, and he’ll be sore for a few days, but there’s nothing we can’t take care of. He’ll be fine.”

Fresia looked so relieved that Kalan worried she might fall over. He pulled a chair over and told her to sit. She all but collapsed into the chair.

“All right, can you tell me what happened?”

“I was stupid,” said Fresia.

“I know you feel responsible, but it’s not helpful right now. Just walk me through what happened. If it helps, I’ll yell at you later if I think you really screwed up.”

Fresia took a deep breath and started talking.