When she’d first seen him, and when he noticed her.

  How deep her misery was without anyone else in her life.

  How she wished for someone who made her happy.

  REGRET. Regret. Pain.

  Nothing.

  When her eyes opened her vision was sharper than she remembered it being. She tried to sit up and discovered she was unfettered. Her body moved smoothly and easily. Sabine kept going and slid to the floor gracefully. No weakness, she stood without complication. Perhaps a little taller? The lab seemed to be seen from a slightly higher elevation than when she first came in… how long ago was that?

  The techs were still here. So were Sabine’s “escorts”. The male tech turned to face Sabine.

  “You are feeling fine, yes?” he asked.

  Sabine nodded.

  “There will be some disorientation to your altered physical aspects,” he explained, “although those will not last for long at all. Within a standard day, you’ll have difficulty remembering what your body, mind and sight felt like from before the procedure.”

  The tech said this with a distinct amount of pride. Sabine just nodded again.

  “Your escorts are ready to take you to your transport, where you can begin your new career. Best to you!”

  Sabine numbly followed the two beings back through the transporter.

  Less than five minutes later, Sabine was alone, standing at the bottom of a loading ramp to a spaceship that would transport her away from here, probably forever.

  She still didn’t know how different she looked from before. But the beings hadn’t acted like there was a problem before they’d departed. The ship she was looking up at wasn’t some garbage scow. It was a luxury vessel. Her personal effects had been brought. All that was left was for her to walk up the ramp. There wasn’t even a crew member waiting for her to choose when she would step up the ramp.

  No, wait, Sabine told herself, there was something else. Someone else. Someone important.

  A deep breath, and then released. Another. Then, she whistled the first two measures of a childhood lullaby.

  She didn’t realize that she was holding her breath again, until the familiar sensation of her companion deftly climbing her leg, back, before settling in around her neck. Her hair settled around him.

  “Very good, Doka. Time to go.” she said softly.

  Doka made his happy sound right next to her ear.

  Now, she was ready to begin.

  Sabine noticed herself in the reflection of the hull plating. Now a full five centimeters taller, with darker skin, hazel eyes and silver hair, she walked confidently up the ramp.

  Into her new life.

  End.

  Fire at Will

  By Declan Finn

  “Brutally killed, huh?”

  Captain Will Jordan chuckled and nodded. “Yup. Whoever wrote that notice for Interstel knew not to BS us.”

  James Weyand looked over the Interstel notice again. “Still. Fifty thousand MUs just to get started. It’s not bad, captain.”

  Jordan nodded. His cell on Starport space station was less than prisoners were mandated by law to have on Arth. He was so used to it, he barely noticed the cramped conditions, unless he had someone else in the room.

  Will Jordan propped himself up against the sidewall next to his bed. The captain always thought of himself as perfect for space travel, since he was economy sized. He wasn’t particularly tall, topping out at only 5’8” due to childhood malnutrition, so he didn’t take up much of the precious room in a ship. He didn’t eat much, so he couldn’t consume much in the way of his own supplies. He was so notorious about having enough on his ship, rumor had it he had taken meditation lessons so he didn’t need to breathe too much.

  The last part was true, but mostly to rid himself of anxiety after spending too much of his formative years associating with the Thrynn.

  “Fifty thousand is a good start,” Jordan told him. “But doesn’t it seem strange to you? ‘Here’s some cash. Go explore strange new worlds, make friends, try not to die, have a nice day’? It’s almost like a bounty system with a starter stipend.”

  Weyand sat on the metallic writing desk attached to the wall and laughed. Weyand was older and looked like he’d been there and done that with practically everything. It was close enough. Weyand was stockier than Jordan, but not enough to cancel out Jordan’s compact stature on the ship. But he was one of those spacers who had served whatever position he could be taken on. And he looked it. His face was creased with smile, frown and worry lines, to the point where he looked like an unmade bed.

  “It’s encouragement,” Weyand said. “Interstel wants to expand their profile, that’s all. And? New lifeforms? Minerals? Alien artifacts? The money they make off of all that would probably be more than enough to clear the fifty thousand overhead.”

  Will Jordan frowned. “I suppose. I just have an odd feeling about it. But ruins? Artifacts? Damnit, Jim, I’m a freight hauler, not a space archaeologist.”

  Weyand rolled his eyes. “No one is asking you to dig in the dirt, Will. That’s what the TV is for.”

  Jordan said nothing, thinking over the crew they’d need. The contracts had just expired on the crew. He thought he’d have more time to dwell on the next batch while he had the downtime. “What about Kafka and Gregor?”

  Weyand blinked, thinking over Jordan’s question, and trying to recall the names. “Who? I don’t recall them.”

  Jordan frowned. “That Velox duo from two runs ago? One did navigation, one in engineering? No, it’s not their names, but you know who I mean, right?”

  Weyand shrugged. “No idea. I’ll have to look them up.”

  Jordan nodded. The Velox always struck him as creepy. But then again, they were red ants that were taller than he was. But they worked for a living, and he didn’t care what they looked like as long as they pulled their weight.

  “Look into them, see if they’re busy. Also …” the captain frowned, thinking back four space runs ago. “What’s her name? Science officer? Human? Her name was Marit. Last name was …” Jordan smiled. How could he have forgotten her married name? It described her husband so well. “Crumm! That was her last name!”

  Weyand smiled. “No. Her name is Landry. She got divorced from that sad sack SOB.”

  Jordan’s eyes nearly sparkled. “Even better. The husband was worthless. Get her.”

  Weyand made a note on the back of the notice. “All right. Who do we want for medical? Or for communications?”

  Jordan shook his head. “You or I can handle comms. As for medical, let’s not get injured, shall we?”

  Weyand looked at the notice again. “You realize that the ship is going to need more than what we’ve got on it. Shields? Armor? Weapons? Not to mention expand our cargo pods.”

  Jordan grunted, waiving off the concern. “Let’s get a crew first, train them right, and worry about the rest later. But start looking into selling the engines and getting a better set. If we’re not going to be able to fight things out there, I sure want to be able to run from them.”

  Weyand nodded thoughtfully and made another note. “I’ll talk to Tryp, see if he can get us a deal.”

  Jordan blinked a moment, then frowned, thinking through the names, trying to match them to a person. “That’s the station mechanic, right?”

  Weyand chuckled. “Yes, Will. Tryptichishic is his full name.” Weyand’s smile turned to a frown as he turned to thinking over the angles on the mission parameters. “Should we be worried about—”

  “Probably,” Jordan answered, cutting him off. “I’d been thinking about Vito too.”

  Weyand rolled his eyes. One of these days, some idiot was going to whine that Jordan was Xenophobic. He hadn’t bothered to learn or remember a single name for any alien he had ever met, so came up with different names for them. But Captain Jordan didn’t remember most names. It had taken him five years for him to remember Weyand’s. It wasn’t poor memory, but Jordan spent most of his time balancing oxygen consumption, fuel reports, and profit-loss ratios.

  “I don’t think Veedo will be a problem,” Weyand said, using “Vito’s” actual name. “Not yet anyway. I think he’s going to see who the best pilots are. Who brings in the most profitable hauls. He’ll wait and watch. Then he’ll make people an offer they can’t refuse.”

  Jordan laughed and shook his head. “We can only hope. If we’re lucky, Vito will go for Snoopy.”

  Weyand winced. Both he and Jordan had worked their way up to their own ship. Jordan was from the worst neighborhood on Arth. Weyand had started higher, but he had been staunchly blue collar from beginning to end.

  Captain Blake Daniels was the epitome of a classic, old Earth word: schmuck. Daniels had an ego about the size of the galactic core, believing himself the best pilot to have ever existed.

  In classic Jordan fashion, he could never refer to Daniels by his actual name. He preferred to just refer to him as “Snoopy.” Weyand didn’t know the reference, but it apparently had something to do with calling Captain Daniels both an SOB, and belittling his piloting prowess at the same time.

  Though the thought of Blake Daniels and Veedo, the Thrynn mobster, was hilarious.

  Jordan chuckled as well. “Yeah. Vito and Snoopy. A match made in Hell.” He paused, and his smile faded. “Unless Veedo is just lazy and decides to come talk to me first because he knows me.”

  Jordan glanced around his room. “You know what? I’d rather not be easy to find. Time to move back onto the ship. Start talking with the mechanic to get everything installed. I’ll see if I can hunt down Landry, Gregor or Kafka.”

  Weyand held up a hand. “Talk to Landry. I’ll talk to the Velox duo. One of these days, they may look up the reference, and understand what a roach looks like. I think they’d take offense.”

  Jordan shrugged, then slid off the bed. “All right. Head out. I’ll start packing and meet you at home.”

  Weyand nodded and hopped off the desk. The Hermes was as close to a home as they had.

  All of the belongings that Captain Will Jordan took off of his ship, the Hermes, fit into a single backpack. He was used to packing light, mostly for speed. He never took something off of the ship that he would miss if he had to leave it behind. Some people would call that a bad habit from his upbringing, but Jordan saw it as a good survival tool.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough when a gray scaled claw reached out and wrapped an arm around Jordan.

  Jordan winced. He hadn’t even heard Veedo coming.

  Veedo was like every other Thrynn, the lizard man made flesh… or scales. Jordan had heard that “reptilian species are not lizards,” but the pedantic details just made Jordan tune out. Veedo was only a little taller than Weyand, but not by much. Veedo wasn’t very high up in the Thrynn mob, but high enough to act with a degree of independence. Unlike most Thrynn, Veedo lacked the usual grace and was wider and stockier than his fellows. Veedo’s scales were also a sickly looking gray instead of a vibrant green.

  Today, Veedo made certain to bare his sharp carnivore teeth as he looked down at Jordan. It wasn’t that intimidating, since Jordan knew Thrynn preferred to eat something in a lower weight class than humans—there was a reason no animals were on the station, and it wasn’t because of the gravity.

  “How’s the wife, Vito?” Jordan asked. “I hope everything’s okay with Gavelle and the hatchlings.”

  “My mate is wonderful. But my ssspawn ah all old enough to work for me now,” Veedo hissed, screwing up his S and R sounds, as most Thrynn did. Veedo clapped Jordan on the arm and squeezed, putting enough pressure to let Jordan know that the claws were there, but not enough to damage Jordan’s suit.

  Vito knows he’s not going to get anything out of me if he damages my professional equipment, Jordan noted in his head. The Thrynn mobster was one of the few who thought like a poor kid from the bad end of town—they both counted pennies.

  Which meant Veedo wanted a cut and didn’t want to create overhead.

  “Come. Let usss walk togesser,” Veedo told him. He slid his arm around Jordan’s shoulders and pulled him close as they walked down the hallway. “Have you not enjoyed time away from usss? We gave you freedom, yesss?”

  Jordan sighed. He didn’t have the patience for Veedo’s beating around the bush. “Vito, I haven’t worked for you since I was fifteen and working dockside. Don’t act like you did me a favor. I never owed your syndicate anything. In fact, I think you guys owe me for the last month of working for you, but I never complained. Just cut to the chase and tell me what you want?”

  Veedo said nothing for a long moment as they walked in silence. His grip tightened on Jordan’s shoulder. “We want to look over what you find before anyone elssse can.”

  “Uh huh. Let’s assume I’m stupid,” Jordan answered. “Why should I trust you or your prices on what we find?”

  “Do it, and no-sing will happen to you or your crew.”

  Jordan’s thoughts came fast and furious. First, this percent wasn’t Veedo’s opening offer. It was his only offer. Negotiating would only make the price go up for Jordan. It would go up anyway, but it would go up gradually. Probably every few trips into space, or every few months, depending on Veedo’s mood. The only way to get rid of the Thrynn syndicate was to never play with them in the first place.

  Second, the only way to get away from Veedo at that moment was to make sure he got the message loud and clear, hard and fast. Which meant fighting off something heavier and covered with armor-like scales.

  But Jordan had needed to fight Thrynn before puberty.

  Jordan nodded slowly, as though thinking it over. But his head drifted further and further down, until his body began to bow.

  With a sharp straightening of his spine, Jordan snapped straight, throwing his left elbow into Veedo’s right eye. Veedo’s head jerked back. The surprise caused Veedo to relax his grip on Jordan’s shoulder, allowing the captain to burst forward on his left foot, diagonally away from Veedo’s claw and his body. Jordan swung his right foot behind him in a crescent, putting his entire body into a right hammer fist to Veedo’s left eye. Veedo’s head rocked back and he staggered.

  Jordan sprang back, putting more distance between him and Veedo’s claws before Veedo’s vision cleared.

  “Just what on Arth is going on here!”

  Jordan looked over at the new voice. Veedo looked around as well. Jordan almost laughed.

  It was Captain Blake Daniels. He was thin, tall, swaggering around in his space suit so bright and tan he must have bleached it. He was blond with blue eyes, and a jaw that jutted out just far enough Jordan was always tempted to punch it. Daniels also had a smile that evoked a similar response–only it was more like a smirk. Maybe it was just his face that made Jordan tempted.

  “Hey Captain,” Jordan said loudly and firmly, more for Veedo’s hearing than Daniels’. “Me and my friend Vito here were just having a business conversation. Would you like to referee?”

  Daniels scoffed at both of them as he stomped over. “I should have figured. Jordan, you’re a disgrace to the uniform. Fools like you should be drummed out of the fraternal order of pilots for the criminals you are. Honestly, brawling in the hallways of the station like a common thug. Ugh.”

  Jordan rolled his eyes. He didn’t care about Daniels’ rant. His focus was on Veedo, and whether or not the Thrynn was going to tear them both apart, or if he wanted to settle up some other time. But going after Jordan now meant Veedo would have to kill Daniels as well.

  Jordan smiled at Veedo. Well, if he decides to kill us both, I can always throw Daniels Vito’s way and run.

  Veedo looked from Jordan to Daniels, then bore his teeth in a smile. “We will talk later, William.”

  Jordan nodded. “I look forward to it, Vito.”

  Veedo spared Daniels a glance, then turned and stormed away.

  When Veedo was out of view, Jordan turned to Daniels. “Thanks, Snoopy.”

  Later that afternoon, Jordan settled into his office chair, looking through the personnel file on his reader. The tablet had the files for all of his former crew, complete with performance evaluations by himself and Weyand, and comments by the crew. It helped for Jordan to remember what he thought of the crew, and for him to know what the crew thought of him.

  In the case of Marit Landry, he didn’t have to remember what he thought of her. She had mousy light brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a cherubic round face. She was a few pounds overweight for the usual space travel, but it had gone to all the right places, so Jordan didn’t care. But the best part was she was single now. The biggest issue was Marit Landry had a husband at the time, Jonathan Crumm, who was a medic and completely untrainable. Crumm had been good for a few bandages and a pain killer, but any serious injury needed the ship to pull into dock. Even though as a science officer, Marit had made herself useful assisting him, and performing better as a medic than Crumm. But at the end of the day, they had come as a pair, making him dead weight.

  Immediately after firing Crumm, Jordan had told Marit to look him up again after dropping the loser.

  After a moment of hesitation, Jordan opened a communication for Marit Landry.

  While the link took time to establish, Jordan ran his fingers through his hair, just to make sure he fixed it after his encounter with Veedo.

  The image flipped over from Marit Landry’s profile to a live photo of her. She was just as Jordan remembered her.

  “Hello Captain. What can I do for you?” she said pleasantly.

  “I just received the news about the happy disunion. Are you available?”

  Marit Landry blinked and cocked her head. “I’m sorry. Are you asking me if I’m unemployed, or free to date?”

  Jordan bit the inside of his cheek and took a few seconds to think it over. “I’m good with either, though I did call to invite you on for the next tour with the ship. We’re joining this latest venture of exploration by Interstel. Would you be interested in joining the crew?”