The three of us sat, huddled together on Penelope’s bed. Two guards flanked us with their comically large pulsar guns while a third turned on the TV and changed it over to a private link with a producer. The screen was just a vague mix of grey with the silhouette of a woman’s face that moved ever so slightly as she breathed.

“Good evening, Starpoint Guard,” the producer said. “I trust you find your accommodations acceptable.”

Penelope, being our captain, was the only one who was empowered to answer on our behalf. It was for the best, for sure.

“They are very nice. Thank you for your leniency,” Penelope said.

“I’m here to talk to you about your performance today,” the producer said, letting the statement hang in the air. “You fought quite well, despite some,” she paused to see if Penelope would fill in the gap. “Collateral damage, shall we say.”

I swallowed hard and leaned into Penelope’s shoulder.

“Under ordinary circumstances the loss of an entire starship would be a subject of great discussion,” she said, turning something over in her hand. “But today, rest assured that it is all forgotten.”

“Forgotten?” Penelope echoed.

“The Parataxis was old and weak. It was obviously getting to the point where your engineer could no longer keep up with the maintenance required,” the producer said simply, like they were actually talking about the tactical implications of an actual war, rather than a TV show. “We were considering decommissioning her sooner or later and, as luck would have it, you all decided sooner.”

“Your kindness is most appreciated,” Penelope said like a robot.

“Do keep in mind that you should consider this a single use of amnesty. If something were to happen with your new ship, there would be little that could be done for you.”

“We understand,” Penelope said.

Even so, I couldn’t help but feel like this was some kind of a trap. There should be some work to do, some punishment to bear. Something, anything, to pay back to Olympios Rex, but no such order came. And if no such order came, then they would come and get their payment when we weren’t looking for it.

“There is much more to discuss today, however,” the producer said. “We are going to hold a ball in your honor at the Ishtar Gallery in a month.”

“A ball?” Penelope asked. “Why?”

“It is a debut,” she said. “We will be introducing the newest cast member of the Starpoint Guard during the party. We will also be using it as a fundraising opportunity and an occasion for you all to promote the show.”

Silence followed. When Leda joined, a little over a year ago, we had heard of her little doctors’ uprising and expected the news. According to Pen, she had heard about General Martin’s murder before she met me. As far as I knew, however, nothing notable had happened recently. It was always possible that Olympios Rex had tightened down not the flow of information in the last year, but that didn’t really serve their purposes at all.

“You will be meeting your newest member next week,” the producer said, “And you will begin to train with with her and acclimate her to her new life. She will not, however, appear on any new episodes until her debut.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Penelope said. “Do you know what role she is meant to fulfill on the new ship?”

“She has many skills. I’m sure the three of you can figure out the best place to put her,” she answered.

All of us frowned. That was not the correct answer and the producer knew it, judging by the way she cocked her head.

“Very well,” Penelope said. “Is there any other information you can give us?”

“Your new ship will not be ready for another two days, so you will effectively be on shore leave until then,” she said. “You may use the time however you are able. However, if you wish to leave approved areas, then you must take a guard with you. A small amount of money has been deposited in each of your accounts for food and petty purchases.”

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She might as well have said she had provided each of us with one Old Earth gun with one bullet with which to shoot us in the brain.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Penelope said, a hitch in her voice “That is very generous of you, Ma’am.”

“Think nothing of it,” the producer said. “Consider it a thank you for three years of riveting television. We will see you back at the station in two days to continue with your typical schedule.”

With that, she logged off.

The guards turned to us. Their armor clanked as it rubbed together and made me think they were grabbing for their guns. I shoved Penelope down to the bed, but no shots came. The guards laughed as they turned off the TV and left.

There was silence until we head their footsteps disappear down the hall. The door guards would still be there, but they were always there. It didn’t really matter.

“So you’d just let me get shot, huh?” Leda said with a smirk.

“You were on the other side of the bed,” I grumbled.

More silence.

“I’m going to see if there’s been an incident recently,” Penelope said as she walked over to her bag. There were no messages on her pad, but still, she began to diligently comb the web.

“Unless it’s happened in the last few hours, someone would have sent us a note about it,” Leda said. “Or Olympios Rex would have been excited to tell us.”

Something cold and grim settled in the pit of my stomach. It should have been like a dream. We weren’t obviously getting punished for destroying the Parataxis and another member on the crew could really help lighten some of the work load. It was the lack of information and the lack of consistency that was terrifying. I had certainly never been given “shore leave” and I’m sure Penelope hadn’t either.

Hell, the navy barely gave shore leave to the people who were legally working for them. They certainly have never entertained actually giving us money.

“I think something’s wrong,” I said while the other two were doing their research.

Leda rolled her eyes, but Penelope took me seriously. “How do you mean?” She asked.

“They would never give us money they thought we’d actually be able to spend,” I said. It was something we all knew, of course. Even on Old Earth, the company that would eventually become Olympios Rex paid their workers like shit and had then working vast warehouses in even more miserable conditions than we encountered in space. Everything they gave to them, they gave because they were legally required too.

We were not employees. No laws protected us.

“They’re going to kill us in this hotel room,”I said.

Leda scoffed again.

“I don’t know if that’s right,” Penelope said, looking up from her research. “These events are inconsistent with what the end of a Starpoint season looks like. It would be a lot of time and effort wasted to kill us if it weren’t on camera.” She put down the pad and sat next to me on the edge of the bed. “They’ll probably do something horrible to us,” she said. “But I don’t think they’re going to kill us yet.”

Whether that was a comfort or a threat, I hadn’t yet decided.

“I suppose I also thought they were going to kill us when they introduced Leda,” I said.

“That would have worked out swimmingly,” Leda said, her placid voice returning to her. “Just a lone doctor aboard a starship. That would have been really exciting.”

“Ama Arhus did it for a few weeks,” I said. “It can be done.”

“Well, what I’m more concerned about is the lack of an incident,” Leda said, gesturing towards her pad. “Nothing has happened here, New Ilium, or Uruk within the past week or so. Even before then, there’s been nothing on the scale the sent any of us here.”

“Maybe they’re lowering their standards,” I suggested.

“Isn’t the point of all this that we’re high profile criminals?” Leda said. “There’s nothing to get excited about if no one knows who we are.”

“Maybe we’ll learn more when whoever she is gets put on trial?” Penelope said.

“It’s possible, but the trial was my debut,” Leda said, “Not a party.”

“Mine too,” I said.

“There was a parade when they captured me,” Penelope said, “So that’s not entirely out of the question.”

“I just don’t see what the point of keeping her a secret could possibly be,” I said, “Unless they’re trying to hurt us.”

“Maybe she’s a government plant and not a criminal at all,” Leda supplied.

“Maybe she’s a Xorosian,” Penelope said.

“And maybe,” I said, an inexplicable annoyance building in my chest, “And maybe she’s a Xorosian government plant who hasn’t actually done anything all that bad. Maybe Olympios Rex is just evil and none of this matters very much.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Leda flopped backwards onto the bed. “If it doesn’t matter, then it’s just… nothing. I’m not sure if I’m ready for it to be nothing.”

“There’s nothing we can do about it now, even if it is something or nothing,” Penelope said, always the pragmatist. I think—“ She was interrupted by plates of replicator food being brought through the door. It looked fine and smelled fine, but it certainly wasn’t the meal we had been promised by Laophante.

“Excuse me,” Leda said, sweetly, “Did my mother send this to us?”

The guard just gave her a blank look and slid the tray across the hotel desk. It didn’t look quite as bad as the food they fed us when we were truly in custody, but it was some sort of lukewarm sandwich with sad looking greens and an old smelling vinegar.