The Twilight Princess was a retrofuturistic dream.The starship’s sleek exterior resembled what used to be called a “rocket” back on Earth One, with a conelike nose that resolved to a cylindrical aft, complete with guidance fins and tri-thrusters for propulsion. Instead of being painted a formal gray or white, the Princess was a deep green, with flecks of yellow, white, and orange decorating the undercarriage.

Sheila Cosmara, the Princess’s captain and owner, once read that those “rockets” had to point straight up to the sky to lift off, and some of them couldn’t even land in one piece. She mused on the idea of having to buy a new rocket after every completed transport, and flicked a wisp of dark brown hair from her face. She’d also dyed a stripe of hair at the front green. To match the ship, of course. Sheila Cosmara refused to compromise on aesthetics.

Skillfully, she guided the ship toward the landing platform. Her hands slid along the holographic control panel, small glowing dials and levers intuitively raising and falling as she moved over them. Finally, her right hand brushed the call-button for the ship’s AI copilot, Zara. The small holographic figure flickered to life in her usual spot in the cockpit, a small, six-inch metal dias to the right of the panel. She stretched her tiny arms, yawning dramatically.

“Oh stop,” Sheila scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You don’t even sleep.” Her alto voice betrayed amusement at the program’s personality. Though Zara was an artificial intelligence, Sheila had a fondness for it- as many had for their AI companions. 

Zara stomped her foot, creating a small - tak - sound on the dias. Zara, like the holographic control panel, was a “hard-holo”, a projection of light which freezes in place any air particles they touch, giving the impression of solidity. “I like stretching,” she replied in a sing-song soprano, which combined with the attire the AI generally chose to appear in, gave the program a feminine lean. Today, Zara was wearing a white flowered kimono, her glowing red hair tied back. “It looks interesting, and seems important.” Zara’s voice was generated not through speakers, but another trick of the hard-holo: moving air through holographic lungs and out a mouth, a mimic of how humans speak.

“Well I’ve got another important job for you,” Sheila said with a grin. “I’m going to greet a passenger. Land the ship for me, and get us flying again once they’re ready.”

“Just one?” asked Zara.

“Bought out the transport,” Sheila replied. It was uncommon, but not unheard of, for a wealthy client to hire her for themselves, or a small party. 

“Aye-aye,” Zara said, as a Zara-sized control panel appeared, glowing in front of her. The AI took control of the Princess seamlessly, and Sheila turned down the short hall which led to the main cabin. The space was the size of a large living quarter in someone’s groundhome, and was decorated to be similarly cozy, despite its clear purpose as a passenger area. Plush storage benches of red leather were built into the walls, and four rows of similar benches with backrests filled the middle-back of the cabin long-ways, with two of the rows facing the other two. Toward the aft was a serviceable, circular table for meals surrounded by stools with the same plush red leather. Thin, warm lights built into the ceiling ran the length of the space, giving the impression of movement even when the ship was stationary.

Finally, large panels on either side of the cabin gave a view outside of the ship, though they weren’t traditional windows. Currently, the sky above the sparse, mountainous region was a pale orange. Instead of a sun, Mela Sive was lit and warmed by a large, incandescent cloud nearby to the planet.

Sheila ran her hand over the back of the benches as she passed through the cabin, making her way to the next room. The Midroom was half the size of the main cabin, with space to hang any outerwear, access to storage, and the entry ramp. She felt the ship slow as it drifted the final few yards to the platform, then stop to hover as the landing gear lowered. Finally, the ship lurched down as the weight shifted from thrusters to wheels. Sheila adjusted herself expertly, compensating for the shift and staying on her feet easily. 

As the outer door opened and the entry ramp descended, a gust of cold wind filled the Midroom, sending a shiver down Sheila’s spine. Spending so much time in her climate-controlled ship, she sometimes forgot to expect weather when opening the door. After getting over her initial shock, Sheila started down the ramp to the dusty platform, glancing at the description of her passenger on a small holo built into her right sleeve.

NAME: MAXIS FINDA

SPECIES: HUMAN

GENDER: M

HEIGHT: 185cm

WEIGHT: 74kg

FEATURES: blk hr

DESTINATION: ELIN BRAK STATION 4

QUADRANT 399

SUBSET L-7

PLATFORM 27908

Looking up, Sheila saw a bulky figure standing alone several yards away. The species and height were correct, and the one defining feature of “blk hr”, his black hair. Oddly, he had almost no luggage, especially for such a long journey. A small metallic case hovered next to him, no larger than the seat of a chair. The case followed him automatically as the man walked to meet Sheila.

“Sheila Cosmara?” he asked as they came together, just beyond the shadow of the Princess. His voice was baritone, with a slight scratch. He held up a wrist holo, displaying his identification, and Sheila pressed a button on her own wrist. Fake names and rider fraud were common in Sheila’s line of work... but a moment later, her holo chirped and blinked green, indicating a positive match. Fake name or not, this was the guy.

Though he looked a similar age to Sheila, 26 standard, Maxis Finda had a weathered face, more rough than handsome. He was wearing an overshawl, a dark gray with an aesthetic trim of silvery lacework. Its shape told Sheila that the man had a muscular form, or at least a hefty one. Polished black leather boots covered his deep blue trousers to the ankle, and a strip of leather around his right leg hinted at a weapon holster beneath the shawl.

That wasn’t a problem. Sheila herself displayed a blaster openly as part of her transporter’s garb. It hung from a holster just below her right hip, the grip positioned for a quick pull if needed. Her light brown slacks, fit to Sheila’s slim but active form, and light green tunic with dark pocketed vest, completed her professional look. 

“Mr. Finda,” Sheila began, gesturing toward the ship and beginning to walk. Maxis Finda followed a few steps behind, the case following them both. It made no sound at all, which was unusual for hovertech. Sheila watched Maxis and the case peripherally. Years of experience had taught her that no matter how polite a passenger seems, trust is not included in her transport fee.

“Weapons stay in the Midroom,” Sheila stated with authority as soon as they boarded. Maxis Finda was already in the process of removing his overshawl, which he threw over his arm. In the same motion, he unholstered his weapon and spun it thrice around his trigger finger before extending it, grip first, to Sheila. Surprised by the abruptness, and the flourish, Sheila let out an involuntary laugh, causing Maxis to freeze in place.

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Quickly, Sheila took the weapon, a decent handheld blaster, and deposited it in a cabinet on the rear wall. The cabinet locked automatically, and Sheila bit her lip once before turning back toward her passenger. With his cloak off, Sheila saw she was correct about the man’s physique. His loose black tunic was draped over a muscular chest and shoulders, with a gray belt tied around his slim waist. The effect was impactful, and more than offset Finda’s weathered face. She had to refrain from biting her lip again.

“Cloaks go… here?” he asked, gesturing to a series of lockers. Sheila nodded, and he moved to them. “And my case, may I bring that with me?”

Sheila glanced at the thin, hovering case. “I’ll need to inspect it,” she replied, and approached. Maxis closed the locker and met her at the case. It had no handle or visible latch, but as Maxis ran a finger down one side, the top half separated and swung up and open.

The contents were at first underwhelming, and then slightly confusing. The case was empty of anything except clothes, and one datapad. Sheila reached in and pushed the clothing around, but found no hidden weapons or anything else dangerous. But that was all this man had packed? There weren’t even materials for hygiene, though he was by no means dirty. She looked at him.

“I travel light,” Maxis offered, reading her thoughts. “I have your permission then?” He began to close the case, then paused until Sheila nodded him on. He clicked it closed, Sheila gestured him into the main cabin, and Maxis soon found a comfortable spot halfway along the side wall, on the starboard side.

“Zara,” Sheila said into the air once Maxis was seated. The ship’s speakers chirped, indicating an open channel to the bridge. “We’re ready to fly.”

“Aye-aye,” came Zara’s voice from all around them. If this startled Maxis, he gave no indication aside from a slight darting of the eyes. The ship’s engines revved to life, vibrating the floor as the ship transitioned off the landing gear, which folded into the ship with a series of clanks.

“If you need anything, there’s a comm box over there,” Sheila gestured toward the front wall. “And the table has whatever food or drink you want, just order on the screen.”

“Thank you,” Maxis replied, then stretched to lay down on his back, the case hovering nearby. “I think I’m going to start with a nice rest.” Folding his hands behind his head, he closed his eyes. “Let’s see if I can sleep the whole time,” he added, grinning.

A flutter ran the length of Sheila’s torso that had nothing to do with the ship’s finally taking off. Passengers sleeping on the Princess was nothing new, and Maxis Finda hadn’t proven himself to be anything other than a particularly rugged passenger. Still, seeing him laying there she suddenly felt… protective of him. Sleep will leave anyone vulnerable, despite their muscles.

Not wanting to explore that feeling any further, Sheila turned to walk toward the bridge. As the door slid shut behind her, she let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Putting a hand to her forehead, she fell backward against the door and took another deep breath. She found a strand of green hair in her face and flipped it back, telling herself that’s why she put hand to head in the first place. But knowing that wasn’t why at all.

With a huff, Sheila let the annoyance and frustration in- just for a second. She was professional. She was strong. She was not some lovesick girl who drooled over dashing, muscular strangers.

And then- she let it go. Whoever Maxis Finda was, he would be on her ship for a few hours, no more, and then he’d be living the rest of his life somewhere very far away from Sheila. With that thought, Sheila steeled herself, and took the final few steps toward the bridge.

“Your heart rate is elevated,” Zara observed as Sheila entered the space.

She said it without inflection or accusation, but Sheila knew the AI had already accounted for all the reasons one’s heart rate may elevate on meeting a new person, so she simply replied, “Shut up, Zara.”

Zara didn’t respond, but turned her tiny head and raised an eyebrow at Sheila. “Aye-aye,” she answered. “Would you like the wheel, Captain?”

In answer, Sheila plopped down in the Captain’s chair and extended her hands over the holographic control panel. Levers and knobs extended up to meet her hands as she hovered over them, lighting up as she flicked and pressed the hard-holo buttons. Zara’s control panel sank back into the dias, and a small holographic map interface flickered to life just below the front viewing monitor. A deep blue translucent backdrop was punctuated by tiny stars, the larger of which were labeled. Their course, Mela Sive to Quadrant 399, was highlighted by a pale green, dotted line across the starfield, which marched like ants through the air.

“Long flight,” Zara noted, and Sheila nodded.

“I think we need some music.” Sheila grinned at Zara, who raised two tiny thumbs in approval. Sheila turned and flicked a small button on her left, chose something she hoped would be loud and fun, and flicked on the speakers.

The music began with a low rumble, making Sheila worry she may have picked a bad station… but soon the rhythm began to build, and a few notes of melody. By the time the bass came through, and the chorus, both Sheila and Zara were dancing in place. Only once did Sheila allow herself to imagine Maxis Finda knocking on the cabin door, and finding out that he’s an incredible dancer, and more…

*    *    *

The music lasted for more than an hour, but soon after, Sheila lowered the volume and settled into her Captain’s chair. They still had a few hours to go, and Sheila began to think it might be good to get some shut-eye herself. She let the thought linger for another hour or so of flight before taking action, giving control back to Zara and climbing up to her loft.

By initial design, the Captain’s loft would not have been luxurious: a functional, metal box with a bed, desk and chair, privy with shower and sink, and basic lighting. However, Sheila found ways, little by little over time, to make the space feel comfortable. Cloth tapestries covered the walls, and the plush bedding and pillows made rest look inviting and easy. She’d also filled the simple, built-in shelves with various odds and ends she’d collected through her travels. There were books, carvings, holos, and small plush versions of creatures from a dozen different planets, among other things. Sheila tried to find at least one item from each new place she visited. Something to say she’d been there, and walked that ground. In such a large galaxy, it was easy to feel small. But the Captain’s loft reminded Sheila of where she’s been, and the difference she’s made… even if that was just bringing passengers to and fro.

After all, some people never even leave their home planet.

Sheila removed her vest and boots, and placed her blaster in a small holder next to the bed. Then she flopped down on top of the covers, pulled a throw blanket overtop her, and began a practiced routine to fall asleep quickly. She tensed each muscle in turn, moving from her legs, to her midbody, her arms, her neck, jaw, and tongue. Taking one last inhale, she held her breath for a moment, then relaxed, exhaled deeply, letting go of her muscles and closing her eyes. 

Finally, she let go of her mind, the final stage before drifting off to sleep. On release, thoughts rose lazily, of the sound of landing gear, of black flowing cloaks against orange skies, of seeing the ground of Earth Eight get small beneath her…

“Captain?” Zara’s disembodied voice filled the loft, and Sheila bolted up with alarm. The room was dark, meaning Sheila had truly fallen asleep, as the ship had turned off the lights. They began to brighten automatically, and Sheila brushed hair out of her face.

“Are we almost there?” Sheila asked, trying to find her bearings. She moved to the edge of the bed and pulled on her boots.

“We are, but…” Zara trailed off. “The passenger you brought onboard is human, correct?”

“Yes, why?” Sheila asked. She swung the dark vest around her and pulled it over her shoulders.

“A normal human?” Zara continued. “Adult human size and shape?”

Sheila slowed in her preparations. This line of questioning was getting suspicious. “Zara, is something wrong?”

“Well,” Zara’s voice began, “We haven’t arrived, nor have we stopped, but…”

The hair on the back of Sheila’s neck began to prickle. “Zara?”

“The man is gone,” Zara said. “I’ve scanned the whole ship. He’s nowhere on board!”