Luci paced from one end of the long, narrow room to the other. Whenever she hit one wall, she did an about-face so quickly her boots squeaked on the dirty floor. She rotated sharply until she had aimed herself down the control booth's length, and then launched herself back the way she came. Her restless body fidgeted like she was strung out on a 48-hour caffeine bender.

She clapped her hands and rubbed her palms until the friction made them burn. She wasn't cold, but she had to do something to work all this nervous energy out of her system.

When she reached the halfway point, the console against the left-hand wall drew her eye like a gravity well. Every time her frentic marching took her past it, she just wanted to reach out …

… slam her finger into that little button …

No, no, no! she thought. I-I-I don't want to look desperate.

Steeling herself, denying her raging passion, she tore her eye away from the console and stared at the far wall as hard as she could.

When they arrive, we'll get an alert, she thought. I do not need to look. Not at all.

She marched right past the tempting button.

Not … gonna … push it …!

The nervous energy buzzing through her body built up and made her shake so bad …

What if the system's broken?! What if we don't get the alert?!

No, Luci, no! You're not … going to …

She twirled around and dove for the console. As soon as she jabbed the button, a metal shutter covering the long window behind it lifted with a pneumatic whine. She hunched over the console, gripping its edges for support, until the shutter had lifted to reveal the complex's hangar bay.

Still empty.

Luci sighed, both relieved and frustrated.

The massive bay door on the other side was open to the stars. A green force field shimmered over the opening, keeping the air from rushing out.

Grumbling, she hit the button to close the shutter and began to pace the long, narrow control booth once again.

After hitting the wall and starting back the other way, she passed the console again.

Not gonna press it. Not gonna look desperate.

She pushed it anyway.

But the hangar was still empty.

As she sealed the shutter again, she muttered, "Ay, caray!"

She ran her shaking hands through her hair—

My hair! she thought.

She furiously patted her shaggy pixie cut with both hands.

Is my hair okay?! I need to check!

She hurtled for the door. She'd already checked her hair three times in the past half-hour, but she decided to check it again. It beat just pacing back and forth.

Hurrying through the office complex to the bathroom, she thought wryly, Worried about your hair, Luci?

She dressed the same way she always had — cargo pants, white T-shirt with faint grease stains, hand-me-down flight jacket about five sizes too big for her with 'Ramirex Interstellar Scrap Traders' on the back — but ever since she had joined Kestrel Mining, it felt like her tomboy image had gone down in flames, like a crashing starship.

I-I just need to make sure I look casual, that's all. Like I didn't put any effort into my appearance.

Hustling up to the bathroom door, she hit the icon to open it on the touchscreen beside the doorway.

As soon as it slid open, she burst inside and—

"Now you listen up, partner."

—froze mid-lunge.

Inside the bathroom, Blaze Corvo sneered at his reflection in the mirror over the sink. He had his shirt off, for some reason. Even though he was in his mid-twenties, his scrawny chest made him look like a twelve-year-old. And he had a short, erratic mess of wavy brown hair sticking out of his scalp, which just piled on the 'oversized little boy' look.

And yet, he's almost a foot taller than me! Luci thought.

Truly, there was no justice in the universe.

"I reckon this here planetoid ain't big enough for the two of us," he drawled.

Scowling at his reflection, his hand went to his gunbelt. He gripped the blaster pistol handle sticking out of its holster with a borderline-pornographic lust. Pretending he was going to draw, he struck (what he must've thought was) an impressive, preening, swaggering pose. One meant to strike fear into the galaxy's criminal underworld.

The only fear it's going to strike them with is the fear they might piss themselves laughing.

Blaze Corvo looked like one of those tall, skinny flowers that flops around in the breeze and then droops under its own weight.

"So why don't you git before I have to …" His voice lowered by an octave. "… whip this out?"

He tightened his grip on the handle.

"Oh, you ain't gonna git? Well, I guess I'll just have to … cremate you and spread your ashes like stardust. Hee-yaaah!"

He 'quick'-drew the blaster in the clumsiest, most awkward way imaginable and leveled it — unevenly — at his own reflection.

Smirking at his imaginary opponent, he said in a low, yet forceful voice …

"Bang."

Luci couldn't help but snort laughter.

The guy in the bathroom twisted to face her. His body jolted and seized up like somebody had jabbed a live wire into his backside. He glowered at her like she'd caught him playing with a different kind of 'pistol'. But the fury in his stare was dulled by the way his eyelids spasmed open and shut erratically, like a machine right in front of his face was shining an intense light and spitting sparks.

"This … is … occupied!" he sputtered.

Luci chewed her lips and tried to swallow her smile.

"Get out, Ramirex!" He stomped towards her while waving his arms. "Out, out!"

She skipped backwards and out of the doorway before he could get to her. The intrapanel beside the door was double-sided and it went through the wall. He hit the touchscreen inside the bathroom, and the door slid shut. Then, a red border appeared around the outside intrapanel's screen to show he'd locked it from within.

Luci sighed.

But then …

The door slid open. Corvo stood in the doorway, still shirtless. His lanky body had a little more composure, a little more confidence. He planted his forearm on the doorway over his head, his fingers curled easily, and relaxed against the frame.

"Say, Luci …"

"Yeah?"

"For a woman who says she's a lesbian, you sure took your sweet time getting an eyeful of … the goods. Is there, um, something you want to tell me?"

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

She leaned back, her eyes widening, trying not to get sucked into the gravity well of his ego as it inflated out of control.

Then she put on a fake smile.

"Sorry, you're just so unmanly I got confused for a minute."

His relaxed expression vanished like her words had slapped it right off his face. Scowling, he hit the intrapanel and made the door snap shut in front of her.

"I was just kidding!" Luci shouted. "Can you hurry up?! They're gonna be back soon—!"

The intrapanel chimed. A notification from the hangar popped up on its screen.

"They're here!" Luci shouted.

She pelted back through the complex to the hangar control room.

Through the window, the starship pierced the shimmering airshield and eased into the hangar bay. It looked a bit like a gray duck, mid-flight. Its main body was about sixty feet long, and tall enough for two decks. Short-ish wings stuck out on either side, holding up the main engines. The outthrust neck at the front, sticking its head into the wind, added another forty feet to its length.

Luci used the console to open the airlock.

Although the hangar was pressurized, the airlock protected the rest of the space station in case the airshield failed.

As she stood in the airlock and waited for it to cycle, she faced the outer door and ran her hands through her messy hair in a last-ditch attempt to straighten it out.

The outer pressure door opened.

With a deep breath, she strolled through it and crossed the hangar bay. Her whole body buzzed, so she put a little extra strut into her step to try and burn the excess energy off.

The VM-84 had three landing legs. Two stuck out diagonally from the body, which had a keel so low it practically scraped the ground. The third supported the flight deck, which was suspended a dozen feet in the air, at the fore of the ship's outthrust neck. In flight, that landing leg tucked securely against the neck's underside. Lowered, it revealed the hatch allowing access to the flight deck. Rungs set into the leg's port side allowed somebody to climb up and down.

By the time Luci reached the ship's shadow, Philomena was halfway down the leg.

Oh, she's pissed about something, Luci thought.

Although Philomena was never the most patient woman, something about the way she stomped those rungs set off an alarm inside Luci.

Right before Philomena reached the bottom, Luci dove for a nearby crate and propped herself against it. She wrestled with whether she should strike a confident butch pose or a demure femme pose. Then she ran out of time, and when Philomena turned around Luci ended up in some awkward mix of the two, which was basically her life in a nutshell.

At least I'm not like Corvo, pretending to be a big shot all the time! she thought savagely, while a nagging sense of hypocrisy ate away at her.

Philomena's brow was furrowed. She snorted air through her nose with every breath. The corners of her mouth pulled down so much they were almost vertical.

Oh, yeah. She's definitely pissed.

She strode away from the ship so fast her shoulder-length copper hair flapped out behind her. It looked darker than usual, for some reason. As she got closer, Luci noticed it was damp and heavy and clung together in locks. Her skin had a soft, gentle shine. A towel hung around her shoulders.

Did she just get out of the shower …?

As Philomena passed the crate, Luci said, "H-Hey, Philomena."

But she didn't even slow down.

C-Come back …!

Philomena clomped towards the airlock, her upper body leaning forward like she was about to charge forth and tackle somebody.

As she sighed wistfully and nursed her broken heart, Luci heard another shuffle from the landing leg.

Rsh's hulking body was covered with a dun coat and topped by a golden mane. A red robe with golden trim was wrapped around it. He reached the bottom of the rungs and stepped heavily onto the floor of the hangar.

At five-foot-two, Luci felt uncomfortably short just being around other human beings. In the presence of the seven-foot Zantauran, she felt like an insect. His large golden eyes had a cold predator's stare. The sharp, gleaming teeth in his large leonine muzzle never failed to send an instinctive shiver down Luci's spine.

"What happened?" she asked.

"A wonderful memory," he growled. "For me, alone."

"Hey, hey. Don't hold out on me. I wanna hear about the wonderful memory!"

"I am sure you do," he said.

Not being human, Rsh couldn't smirk the way humans did. But she had learned how to recognize the twinkle in his eye when he teased her. There was still something predatory in it, a savage triumph, but … well, that was just evolution, wasn't it?

"Howdy, partner."

Blaze Corvo strolled into the hangar bay. Thankfully, he had his shirt on now, and that black leather jacket he always wore.

"I take it you didn't find anything interesting out there?"

"Of course not," Rsh growled. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah. You anxious to get back out there?"

"I have much work to do."

Although they used the starship for company business, it belonged to Corvo and Rsh.

It was a two-crew cargo hauler, and from personal experience they had learned that having more than two people aboard was a recipe for disaster. So they rotated shifts — two people headed out to the stars, the other two held down the fort. They'd all mutually agreed that it was the option least likely to result in murder and/or suicide.

Since it belonged to Corvo and Rsh, and only they knew how to fly it, in the end there were only five real combinations: Rsh/Luci, Rsh/Philomena, Blaze/Luci, Blaze/Philomena, and Rsh/Blaze.

Luci preferred the last one, because that meant …

Me and Philomena, alone in the office! she thought, swooning.

Blaze's eyes narrowed, and a defensive edge crept into his voice. "How much work do you have to do?"

"Much," Rsh replied.

"Well, you're not hogging the common room this time."

"My work earns money. I have greater need for it."

They sound like an old married couple, Luci thought, bickering about the same old thing for the fifteen-millionth time.

Stone-faced, Blaze raised his fist. After a second, Rsh raised his as well. They shook them, and then popped them open on the count of three.

"Hey, man," Blaze whined. "What is that?!"

Rsh held two fingers up. "Scissors."

"Why didn't you pick rock?!" Blaze said, his hand still flattened like paper.

"A Zantauran … must choose rock?" Rsh had that tease-y glimmer in his eye again. "How racist."

Blaze put his hands on his hips. "Don't you know how psychology works? You're supposed to think, 'He'll think I'll think it's racist to pick rock, so he won't be expecting me to actually pick it.'"

"Then you defeat me with paper."

"Well, yeah!"

"So I have outwitted you … and laid claim to the common room."

"Ah, whatever." Blaze raised his fist. "Best two out of three."

"No. Get in the ship."

Blaze's fist remained in the air, but Rsh ignored it and turned to Luci.

"You have our flight plan?" he asked.

"Yeah, I do," she said. "What I don't have … is the money to find and fix the ship if it breaks down."

"One thing at a time," Rsh growled.

"Mhmm," Luci said, nodding.

They fell silent, while next to them Corvo — his fist still in the air — smoldered with resentment at their decision to ignore him. Luci clapped her hands together, hoping the sudden slap would put a bit of hustle into them.

"So! Why don't you get this pathetic menso—"

She jerked her head sideways, at Corvo.

"—outta here and find us some money!"

Rsh's keen, scouring gaze tore through her flimsy pretenses like a nuclear warhead.

"She is in a foul mood," he said. "It would be unwise … to press your luck."

Corvo, looking between the two of them, finally dropped his fist. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Rsh replied.

Luci pointed at the big lug of a lion-man in front of her. "Rsh said he's got wonderful memories, and he's not sharing."

In the most obnoxiously-overconfident voice ever, Corvo said, "Well, you don't need to dwell on it. When you've got a stellar space cowboy like me around …" He struck the javelin pose, his hand stretching out towards the stars. "… there's going to be wonderful memories aplenty. Although, haha, unfortunately for you, most of them will be happening behind closed doors. If you know what I mean."

Each snort of laughter that escaped Luci chipped away at Corvo's facade. He stiffened. His eyes rolled around to look at her. His easy grin tightened as he bolted it in place to keep it from flying away.

"Oh, I know what you mean," she said, snickering. She turned to Rsh and swept her hand at the starship. "Now come on, get going already!"

The Zantauran narrowed his eyes at her. He looked like he wanted to gobble her up as a snack, even though she knew that he was just reminding her of what he'd said earlier.

Then, shaking his head, he went to the landing leg and climbed the rungs leading up to the flight deck. Corvo shot a dirty look at Luci, and then followed Rsh. He walked like a man whose pride had been shattered, and then painstakingly duct-taped back together, and now he had to carry the broken thing cradled in his arms without letting it drop again.

Luci crossed the hangar bay to the window and spent a bit of time fussing over her pixie cut.

The reflection of the VM-84 ignited its thrusters. They kicked off the ground and lifted the ship into the air.

She resigned herself to the fact that, no matter how much she toyed with it, her hair would never be straight.

Just like me, she thought.

As the starship pierced the airshield and soared into the stars, she ran her hand through her locks one last time. Then, she raised her hand and shot a fingergun at her reflection, capped off by a wink.

"Bang," she said coolly.

Wait, didn't I see somebody else do that a little while ago …?

Ah, whatever. Must've been an ad or something.

Thoughts of Philomena coursed through her brain and washed everything else away.

Just me and her now!