While she packed up her bunk, one of her neighbors cast aknowing glance her way. His tone was scathing. “Perrosk finally kicked you out, huh?”
Torian stiffened. “She didn’t kick me out. I’m quitting.”
The man, a stiff, wiry fellow named Lent, rolled his eyes. The motion was so exaggerated she thought he might fall off his bunk. “Sure. And you smacking lips with the captain has nothing to do with it.”
“It happenedonce,” she hissed.
“Once is more than most. We’ve all seen your special treatment.” Lent waved a rough hand. “Good riddance.”
Torian scowled and packed the rest of her gear in silence.
She made one stop on the way out—the galley. Most of Amelia’s crew were crude and quiet, but she’d found exactly one friend on this starship, and it was the head chef, Bartlet. They were older, bearded and built, and had an edge like a knife. Except one night when Torian felt sick, they made her a small glass ofactualmilk, warm and cozy. “Captain’s stock,” they’d said gruffly, and slid it to her in an opaque cup. “Don’t tell her.”
Now, Torian closed the galley door behind her, waiting quietly until Bartlet noticed. They paused by the stove, casting an appraising glance at her. Loisa, their assistant, huffed at the intrusion, but Bartlet just told her, “Take a break,” and she wasn’t going to complain about that.
Alone, Bartlet said, “So, you’re leaving.”
“I bought my starship,” she replied. “Just… wanted to say goodbye. And thank you.”
Bartlet crossed thick arms, leaning against the counter. “Good. You can do better than this.”
They were the only one irritated when she’d been demoted. She’d tried to pretend it was a good thing, but they’d stirred a huge bowl of soup with far more anger than typical and said,Security’s more prestigious. She’s ensuring you can never leave this ship.
I’m saving to buy my own,Torian had replied, frowning.I don’t mind staying here until I can afford that.
Scraps don’t make much.
They make enough,Torian had said. She’d checked—and this demotion wasn’t a pay cut.My sister’s happy. This is safer.
Bartlet had grunted, and everyone had moved on.
Now, they sipped from a dented metal cup, one she knew was frequently flavored with cheap liquor. “Stay alert, Razner. Captain’s going to be covering for you, but that only lasts as long as her position does.”
That was ridiculous. Amelia had been a captain for five years. Everyone knew her by this point—the youngest, fiercest Fleet captain in the system. Her “position” wasn’t at risk; no one challenged her.
At least, not since she’d made examples of the few who tried.
“She doesn’t have to cover for me. I got a new ship. I’m allowed to exit a contract.”
“Are you?” Bartlet raised an eyebrow.
Torian suddenly felt apprehensive. But she’d checked the contract, and wouldn’t have signed without an exit clause. “Yes.”
Bartlet grunted. “You get food for the trip?”
“I placed a virtual order after I bought the ship. Should be getting to the hangar around the same time as the vessel.”
Bartlet jerked a thumb at the door. “Good. Get goin’, then. Don’t look back.” They paused, pushing off the counter and abandoning their cup to rifle through a cabinet. In a moment, they plucked out a small bag of chocolates—rare things imported from Rhymarra, expensive as anything. They tossed it to her. “From me. Thanks for the visits.”
Torian swallowed hard, pocketing them. No one refused a gift from Bartlet. She waved, they nodded, and that was that.
“Don’t look back,”they’d said.
Torian had meant to stop by the captain’s quarters before exiting, but now she felt unsettled. Amelia wouldn’tstopher, certainly, but—why risk it? Torian had places to be, and none of them involved this starship or the Fleet. Not anymore.
So, she left.
And she’d barely made it three steps to the cargo bay’s door when Opula intercepted her.
