Chapter One Hundred and One - Self-Respect

"Hi!" Twenty-Six... chirped?

Ivil wasn't sure if the sound that Twenty-Six produced could be rendered down to something as simple as 'said'. It was too... much for that.

Unfortunately, the attention wasn't directed towards Ivil herself. Instead, Twenty-Six had moved up to the front of the bridge where Pixie was sitting in the pilot's seat. She'd just returned from a small break in the ship's mess, not that there was very much to do at the moment. The Sappho was coasting along without any of its primary thrusters on and would continue to do so for another couple of days.

Ivil herself was sitting in the captain's seat, reading from a small tablet. Mostly it was terrible, terrible fan-written material, but if anyone looked over her shoulder she was ready to switch screens at a speed approaching that of light to a very academically-worded scientific article about... quarks or some such.

She had some self-respect to maintain, after all.

"Hey," Pixie said. "You good?"

"Yeah," Twenty-Six said. "I'm actually a little bored? If you can believe it. Most of the time I had on the Held Together was all... you know, running around and fixing things. This ship's barely got any work for a poor mechanic to get to. There's only so many times you can look things over before you start doing more harm than good. Anyway, what are you up to?"

Pixie blinked, then shrugged a shoulder. "Not very much," she admitted easily. "Piloting's pretty quiet for the most part."

"You know, most people slap on the auto-pilot when they're just going in a straight line like this," Twenty-Six said. "At least until we need to do a turn and burn."

"Maybe," Pixie said. "But this is a military vessel, and regs call for someone at the helm whenever possible. Ideally we'd have a second pilot. But I think we're alright as we are."

"I guess," Twenty-Six said. She sat on the edge of one of the consoles and let her eyes wander across the bridge while her surprisingly long legs kicked back and forth.

Pixie stared ahead, then glanced to the side. From the angle, Ivil knew that she was looking at the side profile of Twenty-Six's face, then her lips, then her eyes dipped down to the loose tank-top Twenty-Six was wearing, then her long, exposed legs and work boots, then back. It was a simple look, but one that Ivil thought said much.

She continued to read, but her attention was a little split. She didn't want to interrupt... whatever this was.

"Are you... just gonna sit there?" Pixie asked.

"Yeah? I mean, I can leave if I'm bothering," Twenty-Six said.

"No, you're not. It's just... why are you sitting here?" Pixie returned.

Twenty-Six shrugged, but her answer belied the expression. "You know, I was thinking earlier. You and me we're, uh, kinda sorta dating? Ish? Kinda?" Twenty-Six's tongue darted out nervously to wet her lips and she glanced away. "But at the same time, I don't really know much about you? I mean, I don't know too much about anyone, and that feels lame, but you're the one I've spent the least time with, and that feels kind of... yeah. Anyway, I thought I'd hang out? But now that I'm actually here, I realized that I really don't know what people do when they hang out."

"Huh," Pixie said. "I guess that's alright. I don't know what people do when they hang out either, really."

They both sat there, in a growing, awkward silence. Ivil was finding it harder to focus on her book. This drama was so tasty.

"We can't just sit here and not talk," Pixie finally said.

"Yeah! We should talk," Twenty-Six said, her mood instantly lifting.

Ivil almost cooed. The little introverts were trying!

"Okay, so what do we talk about?" Pixie asked.

"Anything?"

"Anything is a lot," Pixie said. "Like... where do we start with anything?"

"Uh," Twenty-Six said. She frowned, then shifted where she was sitting. "I don't know? I don't want to start talking about stuff I really care about, because I always start talking too much, then I get nervous, and when I'm nervous I just talk even more, and faster. It's a bad habit, I think."

"Nah, it's kinda cute," Pixie said.

"Oh," Twenty-Six said. She blushed prettily, her freckles standing out before she cleared her throat. "Well, I really don't want to get started, so, uh, what's your special interest?"

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"Special interest?" Pixie asked. "You make it sound like I need therapy or something for an obsession. I don't have special interests."

"Oh. I thought you did, being a cool super-pilot bounty hunter and all that?"

"Well, yeah, I'm all that, but it's just a job," Pixie said. "I research what I need to know because it's useful for me to know when doing my job."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Twenty-Six said.

"Yeah," Pixie agreed.

They lapsed into a long silence again. It was worse this time. Pixie clearly wanted to say something, but she kept aborting herself, and Twenty-Six was busy staring at her hands on her lap.

Ivil was fascinated. Twenty-Six and Pixie were two of the most talented, interesting individuals she'd ever met. She was glad to call them her girlfriends. And yet here they were, completely useless when it came to something as simple as having a bit of small talk.

They really needed to find a good conversation starter. Or maybe skip past all the talking stuff and start kissing. Kissing was a good substitute for communication. All of her favourite soap opera fanfics said so.

Twenty-Six reached up and smacked her cheeks. "No!" she said. "Pixie!"

"Yes?"

"W-what's the weirdest thing you've ever eaten?"

"Huh?" Pixie asked. "Uh, I don't know."

"Really?" Twenty-Six asked.

"I mean, where's that question coming from?" Pixie asked.

"Well, I can't get to know you better if I can't get to know you better," Twenty-Six said with impeccable logic. "So, weirdest food?"

Pixie snorted. "Alright, give me a minute to think about it... uh, yeah, alright. I've got one. About... Eh, this would have been a couple of years ago. Right after... anyway, I wasn't in the best headspace, so I took an easy job. Guarding a long-haul flight around the Jovian system, a ship going to like, seven automated port facilities carrying some low-value cargo. Nothing pirates would want to mess with, but still something that needs an escort, in case. Just, the easiest, low-effort kind of slop job that no one takes because it barely pays enough to cover fuel and maintenance and there's never any danger pay bonus."

"Okay," Twenty-Six said.

"So... I went out and... like I said, bad headspace. I loaded up on supplies, but I acted like a bit of a slob on my first few days. Bought lots of really fancy, rich foods for that one, to eat my feelings away, you know?"

"Yeah, I know that feeling. We had a great cook on the Held Together. Hawke. Very... dad-vibes kind of guy? He'd make me comfort food whenever I was down."

"That's sweet," Pixie said. "Anyway, uh, so I ate a bunch, and might not have refrigerated my food so well. By the last few days of the trip, I'd gotten my mind on straight, but I discovered that a lot of the stuff I'd brought went bad. I had this brick of cheese. No joke, paid eighty dollars for it."

"Whoa," Twenty-Six said.

"Yeah, and by the time I got to it, it's covered in mold. I'd have cried a little and tossed it, but I was out of food. I mean, I could have abandoned the mission, but can you imagine having a black mark on your record during the kind of job that everyone considers newbie work?"

"You ate the moldy cheese?" Twenty-Six asked.

Pixie shrugged. "I cut the mold off," she said. "Tasted... kinda good, to be honest."

Ivil smiled to herself and returned to her reading. Now that the conversation was going, the two were handling themselves well enough. She made a mental note to buy nice cheese for Pixie.

She only looked up a few minutes later, when Pixie said something during a slight lull in the conversation. "That's weird."

The two words had Ivil's sense of impending trouble kick up into high gear.

"What is it?" Twenty-Six asked.

"Commercial fleet ahead of us," Pixie said. "Bunch of freighters. But they're moving way too tight. Might be some anti-piracy measure. They've got a few escorts, but nothing big. No listed cargo, Jovian company tags. They're running cold too--engines low, barely putting out any emissions. I thought we'd just skim past them, but it looks like they're on something of an intercept course. We'll be meeting them... well, about the same time we reach the Earth Alliance fleet near Uranus."

"Huh, that is a little weird," Twenty-Six said. "Think we should warn them off? It could be innocent."

"Yeah, I guess," Pixie said. "Man, I feel like I need to go for a walk."

***

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