Heath heaved himself upright with a groan. “Next time I have to go into a creepy secret closet for a job, remind me to just make the smart decision.”

  “Noted,” the Loon answered. “But you were successful. Our first fully completed contract, and a profitable one at that.”

  “Right. Wait. How’d you know we got the argo? When I left you said it was less than five percent likely they would pay up.”

  “A calculation I stand behind. However, your chaperone was waiving the crystals around, demanding a drink in compensation.”

  “Shit. Where are they?” Heath scrambled to his feet. He hadn’t necessarily forgotten they had company, but the fact he was still in one piece had taken some priority.

  “In the mess area, such as it is now. I felt the Stygian whiskey was an appropriate trade.”

  “What? You just…How do we still have… Whatever, I’ll go talk to them.”

  “If I may, I would instead suggest heading to the bridge.”

  His feet redirected almost of their own accord. Nothing good was going on if he needed command while in port.

  “Why?”

  “Because I suspect you might need to act as we exit the station.”

  “What?”

  “Another suggestion from your friend. One I felt compelled to listen to when the people chasing you – and I use people very loosely as I have encontered many more respectable animals – started to get the port authority involved.”

  As though the Loon timed it, and Heath had no doubt that was the case after the last couple months getting to know the new version of the AI, the main engine turned on, sending its gentle vibrations through the ship.

  “Start departure procedures!” Heath shouted as he strapped himself in on the bridge.

  “Departure underway. Standby.”

  The bridge was nestled behind too many layers to hear the docking equipment, but he still swore there was a clank accompanying the release of each clamp. In his mind they morphed into a countdown, a clock they were racing against.

  “Undocking complete. Entering station airlock.”

  Heath gripped his armrests and leaned forward, his foot tapped incessantly but he couldn’t spare the effort to stop it.

  “What’s wrong? Cycle the lock.”

  “It seems we are being asked to return to dock to answer some questions. The airlock is sealed.”

  “Fuckl! What can we do?”

  “If I may offer a suggestion?” The Loon was frustratingly calm for a being that had only been truly alive for less than a year. Heath himself was a mess, covered in sweat and regretting the loss of their major weapons systems.

  “Yes!”

  “The security on the station is lacking at best. It’s how I was able to track your movements by interfacing with their supposedly-closed monitoring system. Airlocks are a necessary safety feature and thus any inhibitions to their use will most likely be circumventable for any being with the computational resources.”

  “Less talking and do it!”

  “Already done. Lock cycling.”

  A few agonizing heartbeats later, Heath heard the sweetest sound of the day.

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  “Departure complete. Course set for gate seven at three quarters speed. Time estimated to jump, 3 days and 1 hour.”

  “Thank fuck. You’re the godsdamned best ship on the Rim, Loon, and don’t forget it.”

  “I do not intend to.”

  They were out, the argo was onboard, if not in his possession. Heath was sure his accidental passenger would hand it over. Not bad for his first contract. He slumped back in his seat and released the belt. That he had even stopped to put it on was a testament to his uncle’s teachings, as it was not necessary for a standard undocking.

  It hurt that they were flying empty, without a chance to refill the bay, but it should work. Their main plan to keep moving towards a bigger hub would put them along enough trade routes to make up for running one leg at a loss. Not like he had crew to pay.

  With a few days before he could make any plans, Heath turned to his favorite pastime of the last weeks: fantasizing how to spend the argo.

  Real weapons. They were sitting ducks if someone decided to make trouble. Or a sitting loon. He huffed in amusement at his own joke. He really needed a crew.

  A faster base speed, get more contracts finished to earn more crystal would be a good option. Or a basic quantum storage. More cargo, more argo.

  But he really hated the undamped jumps.

  While he was lost in thought, his new best friend joined him on the bridge and tossed themself into the telemetry station, then kicked their feet up onto the controls. Lucky for Heath everything was turned off right now, the Captain’s backups all he used when alone.

  “Hey.”

  No response.

  “Hey. Can you move your feet? Please? My [Ship Maintenance] skill isn’t that high level, so I try to keep it tidy.”

  The silence that met his explanation was not a pleasant one. Heath took a moment to survey his passenger. Grimy was his first impression in the job hall, and it held up in the brighter lighting of the bridge. Soot was caked into their baggy jumpsuit and hair, Heath wouldn’t stake a bet on the original color of either. Nor was he sure he wanted to know where one found soot on a space station.

  At least they didn’t smell. Close quarters and recycled air usually kept Spacers motivated enough to keep up with basic hygiene.

  Smooth amber skin would have pointed to someone young if he wasn’t already aware that this person was a much higher level than him. They could have been Heath’s age or centuries older and he wouldn’t know the difference. Something about them pointed towards the latter. Maybe the fact that the station standard coveralls they were wearing looked older, and probably higher-leveled, than Heath. Or maybe the fact that while Heath was lost in thought, they’d pulled out a bottle and taken a swig.

  “I’m Heath.” He tried again. They couldn’t sit in silence for the whole trip. Hells, Heath couldn’t sit in silence for a whole hour.

  “Emerald. They/them. Where we going?”

  Progress!

  “Sorry to interrupt Captain, but we’re receiving a message from the station.”

  “Can you summarize?”

  “With pleasure. They are informing us that we will no longer be welcome at the Haku station. Should we attempt to violate this ban, we will be met with force.”

  “Oh.”

  “Ha!” Heath nearly jumped at Emerald’s bark of laughter. “You aren’t a real Spacer til you get banned from a system.”

  “Right, yeah, for sure.” Heath was struck by inspiration. Emerald had experience and levels. Heath had a ship and drive to improve. It would be perfect.

  “So you asked where we’re going, yeah? The Atala system. Three weeks from here, so pretty short run. And there’s an actual planet along the way that’s close enough for an afternoon off, without losing too much time. I’m planning on picking up a mail contract. I know, I know. No one likes a mail contract. But we didn’t have time to pick up anything before leaving. Which you saw. Obviously. I didn’t think people would go crazy over argo but there it is.”

  Oh gods make it stop. It was like his mouth had saved up words since the last time he’d had another warm body in front of him, and they were all spewing out at once without his input.

  “Mail pays the bills, that’s what my uncle used to say. It’s creds and we need those. And argo. Which, yeah, about that. So anyway, Atala system. Local hub for this sector of the Rim. Fully colonized. Spaceport the size of a city, you’ll like it. Well more technically it is a city, just one officially under Imperial control for all the colony ships that go through.”

  “You really didn’t feel it?”

  “What?” Had something happened during his word vomit?

  “The skill. Back on the station. You didn’t feel it?”

  “What skill?”

  “Huh. The dickhead leading the charge. He used an enraging skill to form the mob. Easy to notice, harder to break.”

  “I knew it!”

  “How did you get a ship of your own with mana sense that underdeveloped? I can see you have an actual Captain class too. Not pirate or something else, no Temporary mod.”

  “I am a Captain. And this is the Wandering Loon.” Heath gestured around expansively.

  “Welcome aboard,” the Loon chimed in.

  Emerald indulged him by looking around. Heath’s plan was working. Any Spacer would want to crew a ship this good.

  “Not much, is it?”

  “Hey! The Loon’s great, we’re just not in a rough patch. And my mana senses are perfectly fine for my level and my age.”

  Emerald grunted. “Whatever you say kid, how old are ya then?”

  “I’m 21, almost 22, in Imperial standard.”

  Emerald stared. Heath thought he heard ‘fucking child’ but chose to believe that was his mind playing tricks.

  “Are you the luckiest bastard ever born?”

  That sent a lance straight through Heath’s heart. It was made worse when he realized he hadn’t thought about his uncle’s death at all with all of the excitement. Did that make him disloyal, or should he be glad he was able to take a break from the grief?

  “Ah, no. The Loon belonged to my uncle until a few months ago.”

  “Face like that, it wasn’t a voluntary split, so I won't make you spill. Gods know I have plenty of my own stories that aren’t suitable for young ears.”

  “Right, yeah.”

  Heath wasn’t quite sure how to pick the mood back up. Of course, the best ship on the Rim came in to save him.

  “Course is plotted and I am detecting no pursuit. All passengers and crew are at their leisure.”

  Emerald quirked an eyebrow at the announcement but didn’t say anything.

  Heath, however, took the hint. “So about the crystals?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  They tossed the box at Heath, who scrambled to catch it out of the air. He breathed the first truly unencumbered breath since getting to the station. Emerald was right, Spacers had mishaps in systems all the time. That’s why they all had so many stories to tell every time they sat still for more than a few minutes. He didn’t want to go back to Haku station anyway.