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Trall, he hoped she didn’t ask how old he was. He was seventy-two, which, he was fairly sure, would have put a human in his dotage. How old was the average human male? He did a quick calculation. Twenty-four. No… twenty-eight.

Yeah, that seemed reasonable for a pilot. That would make him not a top-level pilot, but maybe a starting pilot gaining experience. The kind that would take a charter job like this. Any older, and that would cast him as a failed, down-on-his-luck-type pilot. Which, to be fair, is the impression he should have been given, but that had somehow completely flown out of his head as soon as he’d met and spoken to actual females.

She came to a stand right in front of him, her arms folded. Gods, she was so tiny. He still couldn’t get over how tiny human females were.

“Okay, you’ll do,” she said, then unfolded her arms to offer him her hand. “I’m Stevie. Stephanie Weston. I’m the expedition leader. You’ll take your orders from me, and I’ll sign your paycheck at the end of the charter.”

Her speech was blunt and no-nonsense, and he nodded. She reminded him of one of his old masters at arms in the training barracks when he was a kid. Tough, but fair.

“Obviously, you’ll get the same accommodation as we get on board. Yours is just behind the cockpit for obvious reasons,” she said over her shoulder as she led the way back up the ramp. The women were coming back the other way, and the blonde grinned widely.

“Ship’s small, and I’m assuming you’re familiar with piloting this class?” Stevie asked, moving to the side to let the other three women file past. He did the same, although with the width of him, he had to practically press himself up close and personal with the bulkhead.

He grinned, inclining his head. “Little lady, I can pilot anything anywhere. Don’t you worry about that.”

She snorted at his charm, eyeing him up and down again. “You’re a big bugger, aren’t you? Bit unusual in a pilot, that.”

He froze for half a second. Trall. Had he already given himself away? Then he shrugged, thinking quickly.

“Yeah, well, my ma always said that grandad was…” He shrugged. “Well. There’s definitely some weird stuff in our family tree, but we don’t look too closely at it. You know what I mean?”

To his surprise, Stevie’s face split into a wide grin. “Oh God, yeah. Please tell me about it. I had an uncle Arthur, who, yeah, well, that’s a story for a lot of alcohol.”

He grinned in response, “That’s a date.”

“Oh, get away with you,” Stevie snorted, amusement in her blue eyes as she slapped at his upper arm. “I’m way too old for the likes of you. Anyway, if you can help the girls with loading the supplies, I need to go and double-check our paperwork and log our departure with the dockmaster now.”

She rolled her eyes. “The joys of being in command: paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork.”

“Absolutely, boss. Will do,” he said with a smile. This had been far easier than he’d thought, which was right when Stevie hit him with it.

“Oh,” she said, turning round halfway up the corridor. “I’m gonna need your pilot’s license, your ratified hours logs, and your charter affiliation, please. I need them for the logs.”

He kept the smile in place. “Absolutely, boss. I’m waiting for my trunk to be delivered from my last berth, and then I will get them right over to you.”

She waved as she carried on up the corridor. “Make sure you do.”

Rann watched Stevie walk along the corridor until she disappeared around a corner. Then he turned and headed back for the ramp.

The three women were still there, the flirty blonde from before looking up and smiling as soon as she saw him.

He sauntered down the ramp towards them. “Hey, boss lady says I need to give you a hand here.”

“Yeah,” the blonde said, reaching into the crate they were emptying. “Just grab that roll of cabling, would you? We need to make sure it gets to engineering.”

He smiled and nodded as he reached in. It seemed to be some kind of electrical cabling, and he grunted with the effort as he lifted it. There was no way any of the women could have unloaded it themselves.

The two others had disappeared inside the ship with boxes, so he looked over at the blonde that was left and nodded towards the power-loaders. “Did you not think that it would be easier to use some kind of help?”

She snorted as she grabbed a couple of other boxes, loading herself up. “Yeah, you would think so, wouldn’t you? There was a problem with our payment line so we couldn’t use the power loaders. Stevie said she’s trying to get it sorted now, but to be honest, we’re almost done. This is the last box.”

Something about the way she said it made his eyes narrow. He’d have been a dead warrior a long time ago if he couldn’t tell when somebody was lying to him, but it didn’t make sense. Why would they lie about something so banal?

“I’m Layla, by the way,” she said as she passed him on the way up the ramp. He was hard-pressed not to stare at her ass as she walked in front of him. Tiny and curvy, she had a figure lush enough to make any male’s mouth water, and he’d never claimed to be any kind of saint. Every time the Lady’s Dream put into dock, he… availed himself of any extra-curricular activities that were on offer. For a fair price, of course.

“Rann,” he said.

“Yeah, I caught that. Randall James, right?” She flashed him a grin over her shoulder.