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1. A Custom-Order Filter and Ledea Oxygen
Beyond the viewport, the darkness of space stretched out with its usual pitiless clarity — the Milky Way crossing it as a faint band of diffused light. Several hours out from Subaru Station, the Silver Anchor was making steady progress along the regular route toward the neighboring old outpost, Comet Center.
The ship's control systems were set to autopilot, the engine providing a low, stable hum through the cabin. Even so, Ledea Mace sat in the pilot's seat — silver hair drifting around her — with one small hand resting near the main controls, ready to switch to manual at a moment's notice.
A peaceful cockpit. Except that from the co-pilot's seat, immediately beside her, a feverish and sustained gaze had been directed at Ledea for some time now.
"Ahhhh... sis's air is so good... I could breathe it forever..."
Shutia Mace — the golden-haired, improbably beautiful younger sister — was sunk deep into her seat with her eyes half-closed in an expression of complete bliss, inhaling at regular intervals. Her long limbs had gone entirely limp. Her face had abandoned any pretense of normal human composure.
Ledea did not take her eyes off the tactical main console. She blinked, once, at a measured pace.
"...Shutia. I have explained on multiple previous occasions that the Silver Anchor's air filtration system uses a premium custom-order filter sourced from Sati's shop."
"That's not what's happening, sis! The machine cleans the air, yes, and then — floating in it — there's this sublime, slightly sweet element that is specifically you, slowly dissolving into every breath I take. That's my source of energy. My life force. In other words: Ledea Oxygen."
"What is this person talking about..."
Ledea finally turned to look at her sister, with the expression she reserved for things that had exceeded the range of normal bafflement.
The motion sent her silver hair sweeping gently across her shoulder. She released a small sigh, decided against any further response, and left the large golden retriever of a sister to her own devices in the adjacent seat. Shutia, for her part, required no more than this — simply being allowed to remain nearby produced, reliably, an expression of genuine happiness.
Ledea returned her attention to the console and pulled up the data on their destination.
Several days ago, Katrine de Arjhan — rival, occasional sparring partner, undeniable acquaintance — had contacted them directly to redirect a job: a relatively large-scale security commission put forward by the management office at Comet Center.
(The compensation on this one is... quite substantial.)
Ledea looked at the figure and noted it, privately.
That work of this scale was now being directed toward independent contractors like them — that was itself a measure of something. The Mace sisters were building a name in the frontier sectors. Reliable enough that the name carried weight.
Part of it was Katrine's referral, yes. But that wasn't the whole story. It was the accumulated result of Guild jobs completed, raiders dispatched, a record built one job at a time. And there was perhaps something indirect to be said for the recent mission — the rescue of Lumie Alnilam, which had opened a direct line to one of the largest corporations in the sector, and may well have lent their reputation an additional boost with the management offices.
"Sis, you're making that difficult face again. Is it because you couldn't sleep next to me last night and you're lonely?"
"It is not. My sleep was unimpeded, and I am in excellent condition as a result."
"That's so cruel!"
Ledea let Shutia's protest pass without acknowledgment, and pressed the main controls forward. Autopilot disengaged. The Silver Anchor's silver hull accelerated smoothly toward the old station ahead.
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2. The Golden Star, and the Galaxy's Premier Two Hours Early
The management-authority dock at Comet Center.
The facility was older than Subaru Station in every visible respect — rougher, more utilitarian, carrying the faint smell of iron rust through its wide bays. But one corner of it blazed like a misplaced sun.
The Golden Star: Katrine's ship, resplendent in its blinding gold paintwork. The mirror-deflection armor was doing exactly what it always did — catching the dock's pale mercury lighting and throwing it back at full intensity, outshining everything within range, and sitting there in perfect berthing posture as though it had always been the most important object in the room.
The Silver Anchor locked into the adjacent electromagnetic mooring pit. The airlock opened.
Coming down the boarding ramp, the Mace sisters found exactly who they'd expected waiting in the dock corridor: a young woman with elaborate ringlet curls, a decorative fan in one hand, and her chin lifted at the precise angle that preceded a complaint.
"You're late, Mace sisters!"
Katrine de Arjhan swept a frilled sleeve through the air and produced a sigh of theatrical proportions.
"I — the galaxy's premier perfectly time-managed top treasure hunter — arrived a full two hours ago, and have already completed a comprehensive assessment of the local situation. This is a high-value commission, and one I went out of my way to direct to you personally. The least you might demonstrate is some degree of urgency."
From behind Ledea, Shutia stepped forward with the expression of someone who had spotted something mildly irritating.
"Ugh... you were just too excited to sleep, weren't you. Like a child the night before a school trip. Couldn't wait to get here."
"Who do you think you're calling a child?! You aberrant little stalker, your manners have not improved one degree since the first day we met! I am a consummate professional with the highest standards of conduct in this galaxy, and my early arrival reflects exactly that!"
"Sure, sure. I've heard quite enough from the self-proclaimed galaxy's premier gold-plated old lady, thank you. Let me express my displeasure at having our sacred drive time interrupted—"
"How DARE you — calling me that is an offense deserving of ten thousand consequences, you impossible creature—!"
The corridor filled with the immediate clamor of an argument that had started before anyone had finished saying hello. Katrine fanned herself with increasing agitation, voice rising; Shutia deflected cheerfully while positioning herself between Katrine and Ledea out of what appeared to be pure instinct.
Ledea exhaled quietly, and stepped forward.
"Both of you. This is a significant commission. Save the camaraderie for later."
The statement was delivered without particular emphasis, in the tone Ledea used when she had already moved on from expecting any particular outcome. Both Shutia and Katrine went still simultaneously, turned to face her with the precision of people who had practiced this without meaning to, and said:
"«We are not being camaraderie!»"
The echo bounced off the dock walls.
Ledea had already turned away. Her silver hair moved with her stride. She did not alter her expression.
"Then let's proceed to the management office. The briefing window is limited."
"Ah — wait, sis! Don't leave me behind—!"
"Ledea! I was not finished speaking—!"
Behind her: the sound of two pairs of feet hurrying to catch up. One belonging to the most capable combatant in the frontier. One belonging to the self-styled galaxy's premier treasure hunter.
The Silver Anchor's pilot led them both toward the management office's heavy automatic doors, at a pace that suggested she had done this before and expected to be doing it again.