The shuttle's engines thrummed up her spine, a hum that almost lulled Kara back to sleep. But an irregular hitch in the rhythm pricked at her damn nerves, a shrill whine reminiscent of a teething wamu.

  Annoying as all Sam Hill...

  Her eyes reopened to dim overhead lights and the warmth of the air-controllers. Kara readjusted the coarse blanket with a groan, stretched out on a small fold-out bunk. A pair of sable pants hugged her legs. Tight. Sleek. Coupled with a red T-shirt both baggy and comfy.

  Jakobs was sat across the cramped common area, studying his infopad. Bored with a slightly constipated look to him. Then Starey—Adrax or whatever—ambled through the rear door with an H-Ration in hand. Mid-chew. A healthy coating of BBQ sauce glazing his lips.

  He froze with a goofy stare when their eyes met, true to his moniker. Rugged auburn strands ruffled over his ears, at odds with his umber complexion. Without a doubt he was a descendant of the Ngāti Toa bloodline. Te Whetū and his kin had more bastards than there were planets. Stars, even.

  Kara turned onto her shoulder, expression neither cold nor warm. Normally she’d crush this juvenile infatuation under her heel. It was so glaringly obvious that it almost hurt. But he seemed to be a nice enough kid. It'd be like kicking a puppy in the nuts for wagging its tail.

  She wasn't a complete and total dick.

  “Take a picture kid,” she said, voice like cake cut with a combat knife. “It’ll last ya longer.”

  Adrax blinked, then swallowed a mouthful of the ration. “Oh? If you want. Sure, okay.”

  He fumbled eagerly to retrieve an intangidisk from his belt.

  “It’s an old expression." Jakobs sighed without looking up. "She's basically telling you to stop gawking and sit your ass down."

  A frown creased Adrax's face, somewhat embarrassed as he folded into the seat next to Jakobs. Partially swallowed by the loose, and unsecured crash-webbing.

  Kara grinned, amusement lazy and slow. She rolled onto her stomach, chin resting in her palms.

  “Sorry about the confrontation at my place, Mr. Clean. Been alone a decent stint. More in spirit than body, but still. Not as sociable as I used to be.”

  “It's Jakobs dammit. Want me to spell it out?"

  "No, I know how. It's just no fun."

  He looked up finally, expression blank aside from a pinch of annoyance. Not even half as wary as he was before.

  "And I gathered as much about your sociability. Never had anyone sociable threaten to rip my cock off. Unless that's how you say hello on Casposis? Wouldn't live there if I owned the whole planet.”

  Kara laughed quietly. “You must be the funny guy.”

  Her gaze shifted back to Adrax, who stiffened slightly, like a deer in a hunter’s scope.

  “And you?” she playfully purred. “What’s your angle?”

  He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then cleared his throat and tried again.

  “I, I mean, I try to keep crew cohesion. Uh, morale. Protocol. With combat. And stuff kind of like that, that I maybe didn’t, you know?”

  Jakobs rubbed tiredly at the bridge of his nose, and Kara’s little smile only widened. In complete and utter disbelief.

  Almost adorable.

  The cockpit doors hissed open.

  James stepped out, wearing a gray thermal with even grayer sweats, hung loose on his muscular frame. Gait slow and heavy. Like he'd been in search of a good night's rest for a long while.

  He raised an eyebrow at Kara's deliberate pose, then Adrax’s obvious fluster, but said nothing. They locked eyes as he sluggishly passed. Flat. Unreadable. Then Rorik gripped the frame—snapped the bunk upright with a clean thunk.

  “Pissguzzler!” came her muffled protest from inside the wall.

  “Jakobs take the helm in five, auto-pilot’s on. We hit Azrhar in an hour. And Adrax? Don’t let her get to you, she's always played with her food.”

  “Roger,” came an in sync reply, though with very different inflections.

  The bunk flopped down with a hiss.

  Hair wild with one boot missing, Kara glowered at James’ departing back. Though as he vanished into his quarters, so too did her curt scowl. Agitation usurped by a forgotten sensation—rising from her gut like warm smoke. From the grave-like maw of loneliness.

  Living on Casposis had felt like a vacation at first, free of all responsibility and worry. But it had quickly devolved into a cushy, well-decorated prison of her own design.

  And humans made boring, and rather fragile company after a while.

  She waited a few moments before following after him.

  “Gotta hit the john,” she muttered to no one in particular.

  James was already in the chemshower when she stepped into the spartan space. Nothing but a viewport, some monitors, and a simple bed built into the floor. The Clans had been flying QRS-D5 shuttles for a long time, she was impressed this one was in such good condition.

  Kara kicked off her last boot, stepped over the guard rail into the sunken bed, then sprawled out as if making snow-angel. As the door hissed shut behind her, she yanked the blanket over herself in one greedy tug, cocooning with a soft, indulgent sigh.

  The bathroom door cycled open a minute or two later.

  “Something wrong with the bunk?”

  James stepped out, toweling off the last traces of hygienic spray. His chiseled chest glistened faintly. Damp blonde hair half stuck to his forehead.

  Kara peeked over the blanket, her voice caught in a performative yawn. “Besides smelling like a spread asshole? Yeah. Was afraid I might drown.”

  James tossed the towel aside, then dropped on the other side of the bed—reclaiming half the blanket with barely a glance.

  “How’s that?”

  She didn’t answer right away. Just sank deeper into the marshmallow pillow, eyes half-lidded while they traced the back of his broad shoulders.

  “Your little buddy was drooling all over the place. Matter of time before it pooled up to the bunk.”

  “He’s just a kid,” James muttered, clearing his throat. “Can’t expect him to recognize a walking landmine when he sees one.”

  Kara giggled, far softer than intended. Almost girlish.

  “Couldn’t sleep anyhow.” She shifted to her side, breath turning shallow. “Was thinking maybe you could help me out?”

  “Help how? With an uppercut? Say when.”

  “Not...quite.”

  His head lifted slightly at her tone. Sultry. Certain. Unmistakable.

  “I’d, forgotten that’s how we left things. All the back and forth, you know?”

  “Me too.” Her fingers delicately ran across his arm. “Then you threw on those sweatpants and very quickly reminded me.”

  He laughed quietly and leisurely rolled over, their faces mere centimeters apart.

  “Your timing is shit as always.”

  His amber eyes held a firm glow, not hard, but not as eager as she wanted.

  “At least I’m consistent.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Kinda working on something back home," he paused. "Getting pretty serious, I'd say. What the hell do you even want this time? And be straightforward, not in the mood for a runaround.”

  Kara rolled onto his lap, the blanket slinking from her shoulders. His hands found her hips—loose, the ghost of a touch that sent a shiver up her back. A hardening bulge pressed against her with a mind of its own. A primal, human hunger.

  “Oh, I just want to cuddle, eat some cookie dough, and talk about our feelings.”

  James huffed in disappointment, then started upright, but she leaned in, voice low and electric.

  “...I wanna get clapped so hard that it sounds like a round of applause. What the hell else?”

  James paused, then chortled as he sat up, steadying her with a hand at the small of her back.

  “Yeah, I think I gathered that part Kara. But, uh, I can’t right now. Maybe if things don't work out the way I'm hoping. But not here, not now.”

  Her arousal faltered, slightly, beaten back by a flicker of irritation. Admittedly, hearing the word "no" in any form was a bona fide rarity.

  “I need more than something just physical right now. And besides brief brushes with intimacy, we both know you don’t do more anymore. Couldn't even if you wanted.”

  "Well that's not true, I can totally, maybe—"

  Years of love and resentment passed in a quiet, knowing stare. The result of a friendship filled to the brim with fights, fucks, and farewells. It conjured memories of pleasure and pain both, that flashed by in a damnable blur, the unforgiving passage of time.

  Finally, slowly, she gently kissed his forehead. Then rolled over to study the riveted ceiling with a sigh, counting its many square tiles.

  And the longer that she did, Kara found herself getting angrier—knuckles balled to loose fists at her sides. Not at all mad at James, but the fact that he was right on the money.

  She really couldn't do more, anymore, could she?

  Kara remembered excruciating details of every place she'd ever set foot. Miras IV. Faraday. Taladran. Her family's New England estate with its winding halls, and elegant décor. People too. Everyone she'd ever known, loved, or killed face-to-face were locked in her memory. And the latter was no small number. No. Nothing to scoff at.

  But that was the past.

  For some starsdamn reason, she couldn't imagine the future. With anyone. Not even all on her lonesome. No matter how hard she tried her mind went frustratingly blank. Empty. Devoid of any and all possibilities. Good or bad.

  Perhaps she'd been right a few days ago, perched at the top of her apartment complex. Half-drunk with the burnt orange sun in her eyes, and sorrow as her only companion.

  Maybe, just maybe, she really was...better off dead?

  ...

  ...

  "Hey."

  James' gruff voice tore Kara from her thoughts. Eyes drawn to his handsome, bearded face—her brow creased with confusion as the anger subsided. Replaced by an undercurrent of mild annoyance.

  "I know that look," he said. "Been seeing it in the mirror lately."

  She blinked away her introspection, already fed up with feeling vulnerable.

  "Look? You're imagining things, kid. Thinking about grabbing an H-Ration or maybe rubbing one out. That's all."

  "You're one of the best liars I know. But I can recognize them. Easy. You're not as good as you might think."

  "Will you be able to recognize my boot after I pull it out of your ass?"

  "Put it on and we'll find out together." James' expression gradually softened with tender concern. "I want tell you something."

  "Who's stopping ya?"

  He shifted onto his elbow, the whirring waves of ceespace at his back. Crimson and alive. A blinding fluidic light show of reality muted by the dim viewport.

  "I saw you, in a dream, a vision actually."

  "Clothes on or off?"

  "On."

  "Boooo."

  "You were wearing those ridiculous pajamas actually." He smiled, though there wasn't much humor in it. "Can't be totally certain where you were, but it reminded me of Casposis. You were on the roof with a fifth. Lost a slipper in the breeze."

  Kara's gaze slid away and refocused on the ceiling. Feeling empty. Cold. That was literally the last thing she'd ever want him to see. Afraid to show weakness, or a strange form of embarrassment she couldn't quite say.

  But they were bonded. Kinthreaded. Tied to each other by the liminal threads of The Veil. Kara saw flashes of him too. Random, and incoherent often enough. The most recent with him torn in half, on a dark, dusty planet.

  "You were about to jump, Kara. Of that I'm certain."

  "So? You my daddy now?" Kara grumbled and crossed her arms, a tad more venom in her tone than intended. "I do what the fuck I want. That includes suicide. Or haven't you figured that out by now?"

  "Oh, I know. Figured it out a thousand times over by now."

  James laid back to the sound of the crinkling mattress, staring at the same riveted tile as her. The smell of eucalyptus wonderfully wafted from every inch of him. Pleasant and oddly grounding.

  "But hey, if you've decided that you're ready to go—go. Won’t stand in your way. Eight hundred and forty years has been a long road, I'm sure. I just want you to be certain before you punch out. I love you, and there's no take-backs, ya know?"

  A rising sense of gratitude dissolved her stubborn agitation. No matter how low she could ever go, there was always one person in the galaxy that gave a damn. Kara almost said something sappy, but either her mouth or pride wouldn't let her.

  The best kind of love was understood rather than said anyhow.

  She allowed him to tenderly pull her over, and plant her head on his chest. Warm. Strong. A loving gesture that made Kara feel young again. Alive. His heart calmly thrummed in her ear, singing the song of life, while she brushed his stomach with a gentle hand.

  “Whatever you decide, we've got just under an hour to catch some zees," James continued, with the hushed echo of a chuckle. "And I don't know about you, but I need every wamu-rotten second I can grab...”

  "...so lay there, shut up, and go the fuck to sleep."

  “You’re running this tighter than a battle drill,” came a voice from behind her, rough and familiar. “Thought he was taking command of this mission?”

  Cassandra didn’t turn, too busy tracking the crew chief signing off on diagnostics.

  “I’m making sure he has less to worry about when he gets here. About twenty minutes out, right?"

  "Fifteen. Can almost hear him being a smart-ass from here."

  First Commander MacDuff stopped beside her, hands clasped at his back, ginger coif and mustache neatly combed. His gaze traced the Gizotso’s wedge-like bulk with heavy purpose. A rugged light-cruiser that loomed over them, a massive hulk of steel-blue durtanium that hummed with quiet menace.

  “Tough old beast. Loud as hell in atmosphere. But she’ll take a hit and give two or three back.” He paused. "Try not to break it.”

  "Wasn't planning on it, sir." Cassandra adjusted her ponytail with a flick. “And yeah, BioMech builds them rough and tough. That’s for sure.”

  The bay was alive with overlapping shouting, hydraulic lifts, and the faint static of comms. Steel-gray, wide, and tall. Pale light as blinding as a Class 4 star.

  “Figured you’d be up in command? Reviewing documentation?”

  “Done and done. I came down to chit-chat.”

  Her brow raised a hair. “Chit-chat? We’ve never chatted. Debriefed, argued, and reviewed, sure. Is there an issue or something? I know I lack deep-space command experience, but—”

  “It’s not that. You’re sharp. Ready. Made it farther, faster than most.”

  “Be careful, sir. That sounded dangerously close to a compliment.”

  "If you want it to be."

  MacDuff's face and tone gradually shifted, undercut with a serious, but strangely soft edge.

  “Wanted to talk about Rorik actually. On a more...personal level?”

  She laughed quietly. “Not quite sure what you mean. But it's also none of your damn business. If you're worried I’ll get hurt? I already have a father. He worries plenty for me already.”

  “Not exactly what I meant. James is a good man. One of my better friends. Reckless? Sure. But not careless. Not with anyone but himself.”

  “Sensing another but loaded in the chamber?”

  “But, he's not the problem. Not directly at least."

  "Ah, so you really mean Daffern then?"

  "Sure do. What she has with Rorik? Strongest kinthread I’ve ever seen. They're inseparable. He tends to gets a little more reckless when she’s around.”

  Her jaw tightened with a twinge of jealousy. A strange sensation that bordered irrational. Kara's reputation preceded her. And while Cassandra wasn't intimidated, her throat had tensed a little when she heard the news. Daffern was an unfortunate complication.

  And I despise complications...

  “He—and the crew—need someone to keep his head on straight in the worst case scenario. You being aboard means I can rest easier. Just...wanted you to know that, give you a heads-up.”

  Her gaze drifted left and right, in search of something to focus on. A domed synthenoid cargo-lift hissed as it lifted supplies into the Gizotso's holds. Sparks flared as a technicians soldered plates beneath its tripartite-triangular engines.

  “I appreciate it. But James will get the job done right. Have a little more faith. And Kara? Never had the displeasure. But I can handle her. It’s not if she acts up. It’s when.”

  “I do so hope so you're right, for yours and the mission’s sake,” he scanned the embarking the crew. “I feel like a broken record, but we need Te Whetū back. It might not look like it now, but there’s pressure building beneath the calm. Worse than I've ever seen. Fly safely, Lieutenant.”

  “...understood, sir. Be back with the Primum before you know it.”

  He nodded twice, turned, then threw one last glance over his shoulder.

  “He likes you,” he said gently. “Probably more than he’s said. You’re a good match. We need more stable relationships around here. Unchecked hedonism affects discipline more than you'd think.”

  Cassandra folded her arms, letting the corner of her mouth curl just a bit.

  “I know how he feels. He doesn’t grin quite as goofy at anyone else.”