Saying goodbye was harder than she thought. As Violet hugged her parents outside Air Lock 6K-13, she wondered if she'd ever see them again.

“Promise that you’ll call as soon as you get settled,” her mother said. She released her from the embrace and held her at arm’s length, as though inspecting her for defects, and then pulled her back into the hug. “You look exhausted, sweetie. Are you sure you’re all right?”

Violet felt a tear swelling in the corner of her eye and broke eye contact lest it become something more emotional. She wiped it with the edge of her finger and sniffled once. “I already told you I would call,” she said, purposely ignoring the “exhausted” comment. She was not in the mood to unpack everything she was dealing with with her parents. She’d barely had enough time to digest it, herself.

Her father had waited long enough on the outskirts. He pushed his wife aside and cut into the mother-daughter embrace like a jealous suitor at a high school formal.

Finally, Violet managed to wriggle her way free from their all-encompassing embraces. She picked up the travel bag at her feet and backed away toward the shuttle bay, promising once more to call them both when she arrived at her destination.

She turned and walked, forcing herself to not look back. Then she was through the air lock door and into the shuttle bay.

It was Violet’s first time. The whir of activity created bubbles of excitement in Violet’s blood. She was on the move. Finally about to do something with her life for once. No more endless cycles of waking up, going to work, coming home, sitting in a cramped apartment, going out to party, getting jacked up, doing something stupid or reckless, popping a Forget Me, and then passing out at some point, hopefully in her own bed.

She took a big breath of shuttle-bay air. Yes sir, that part of her life was over now. She was on to bigger and better things.

The weight of her bag sat awkwardly on her shoulders and she shimmied the strap further up her trap to better balance the load. The whole thing was bit last-minute and she hadn’t known what to pack. What does an eighteen-year-old party-girl who’s recently been murdered by a mutated psychopath, and then subsequently self-resurrected, pack to begin a new life with Galactic Republic Intelligence?

In the end, she hadn’t been able to decide. Some underwear, some snacks, something comfortable to sleep in, shoes, and a skimpy dress that wouldn’t wrinkle—just in case she got the chance to go out wherever she was headed. Speaking of which, where was the ship she was looking for?

A young man pushing a dolly walked by. He looked like he worked there—the coveralls were a dead giveaway.

“Excuse me, could you by any chance tell me how to find the…” She was embarrassed to say it, “the… Apricot?”

He stopped and checked her out head to toe. Whether he was about to hit on her or just wondering what someone like her was doing in the shuttle bay, Violet couldn’t say. When he’d finished, he pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “The sleek, rose-tinted ship on the far side of the bay. Can’t miss it.”

Violet squinted across the bay and just made out the ship he was talking about. It had to be nearly half a mile away. She turned to ask if there was a shuttle of some kind, but the guy was gone.

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Cinching the straps on her backpack tighter, Violet broke into a jog toward the far end of the hangar. She didn’t know how strict the Colonel was about departure times, but she didn’t want to find out if she could help it. Staying stuck on this rock-processor was not an option.

It felt good to stretch her legs, and she seemed to cover the distance in no time at all. Every few steps someone would stop what they were doing and turn to look at her running. It made her wonder if anything exciting or unusual ever happened around here that the sight of a woman jogging brought so much attention. Then again, maybe they were just watching her tits bounce up and down. She drew her arms in tighter, suddenly self-conscious.

As she neared the rose-colored ship, Violet saw what the man was talking about: with its name written in large letters on the tail section, the ship was hard to miss.

A small, miserly man stood at the bottom of the boarding ramp holding a clipboard. He wore a blue uniform, topped with a hat, and glasses that hung around his neck by a delicate-looking gold chain.

“Name?”

“Violet Weaver.”

The man placed his spectacles on his nose and diligently riffled through the papers attached to his clipboard. “Sorry. Not on the list. Move along, please.”

Violet blushed, embarrassed. “There must be some mistake. I was told by Colonel Webster to board this ship by eight.”

“Your name isn’t on the passenger list, Miss Weaver. I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about that. Now, please, move along.”

Her fists tightened and her jaw clenched. This was not happening to her. She couldn’t go back to her depressing life onboard the station. “If there’s nothing that you can do about it, then go get me someone who can.” She nearly hissed the words through her teeth down at the man.

The short man refused to budge. “I can’t just abandon my post anytime someone—who isn’t on the list—demands that I—”

His protest was cut shut by Violet’s sudden shouting. “Hello? Anyone in there in charge of this nimrod? Colonel Webster? Hello?”

She continued in this manner for several minutes, drowning out the complaints of the small man in the uniform with the glasses.

After a while, the pilot appeared at the top of the ramp along with Colonel Webster. Violet frowned when she saw the look on the colonel’s face. He was not happy.

“Mr. Greaves, it appears we’ve had a last minute addition to the passenger manifest,” the pilot explained to the uniformed man.

Greaves puffed up his chest and prepared a counter argument, holding up his clipboard, but the pilot raised a hand, warding off any further discussion. “Let her board and then prepare the ship for departure. We’ve got a schedule to keep.” With that he turned and left, returning to the cockpit.

Violet shot her best shit-eating grin at Greaves. His face flushed a deep beet-red, and he offered a small, but polite bow and wave of the hand. “Right this way, Miss Weaver. Would you like me to stash your bag in the ship’s hold for you?”

“That won’t be necessary, thanks.” Violet walked past him and gave the colonel a nod. “Sir, I just want to say how grateful I am for this opportunity.”

The colonel looked her up and down and gave a slight shake of his head. “Do you always behave this way?” He went to find his seat, not expecting an answer from her.

Violet stood alone at the top of the loading ramp dejected and wondering if she’d made the right decision after all. She took one last look at the massive shuttle bay as Greaves walked up behind her. The ramp retracted behind him and the doors began to close as he boarded the ship.

“Come, Miss Weaver, I’ll show you to your seat.”