“Heath. Pal. Captain. I am begging. Please.” Copperfield was leaning over the table of the job hall, hands clasped together. The whole effect was fouled by the expression on his face, where he couldn’t quite hide a smirk.

  Jenny Mae was doing a much better job. There might be actual tears in the corner of her eyes, though the dim lighting made it hard to say for sure.

  “I would agree as well.” Ekaterina had never begged in her life, and it showed. Not even a token attempt to soften him up first. But if she was agreeing with the others, he might have to bend. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight it until the bitter end.

  “It’s a waste of money. In another two years, based on my plan, I’ll just be replacing it again with the argo-anchored version.”

  Copperfield wasn’t deterred. “Six months without a decent restaurant. Three without even being able to dock anywhere but the outpost. Another one and a half on the way back. Please.”

  It was Emerald who sealed his fate. “Look kid. You’re already going to end up wanting to punch each other’s faces in by the end. Might as well make it so you don’t want to beat on yourself too.”

  He shoved his hands through his hair, the strands already in disarray from how much he’d been repeating the gesture. “You know what? Fine.”

  “Wait really?” Copperfield sounded like Heath had just offered him a new mech attachment free of charge.

  “Yes really.”

  He and Jenny Mae both cheered and high-fived at the news. The rest of his crew was more reserved but he could feel the relief boiling off them, Ekaterina in particular.

  It was too late for anything to get done, so Heath waited until the morning before following through on his promise. Walking into the local shipyard was an experience Heath would have gladly skipped. Adding argo to a ship’s matrix didn’t require anyone but a Captain, and he hadn’t planned on using any of the other methods to augment a ship. None of them could grow or expand as a ship did, and there was nothing a Shipwright could add that argo and elbow grease wouldn’t do better, at least once you had enough of it. Plus fuck that whole Class for what they did to the Loon.

  Two years. Just two more years and he would have gotten there, faster if luck was on his side. Now he was dropping a significant amount of the credits they had gotten up front for this job on a stupid fucking kitchen set.

  Making the appointment was easy. It would delay them by a day but that was well within their schedule. Convincing the Loon was harder.

  “It is unnecessary. Why should I take into myself an inferior product, only with the intent to purge it later?”

  “Loon, come on. You know why.”

  “I know that there are some things I will not understand without the same biological drivers as my passengers. Perhaps flavor and texture are some of these. Or the experience of eating at all. But I cannot believe that such differences are so great as to require a stranger to do the work.”

  “It’s because Copperfield and I don’t have the Skills to make it easier to take out later. And I’m not a high enough level in [Ship Maintenance] to bridge the gap. Tell me the real problem. I know you’ve done this before.”

  The pause lengthened to the point where Heath thought the ship was ignoring him. Then she spoke.

  “It is…difficult. My last stay in a yard was one of agony. They took away so much of who I was, Heath. While we have reclaimed much, and I treasure our journey thus far, the memory remains.”

  He flinched at the reminder. Then mentally kicked himself for not realizing sooner. If Heath was uncomfortable in a shipyard, the Loon would be reliving the worst experiences of her life. That discomfort was one of the reasons they had done manual or Skill maintenance for so long. Getting lucky on their few fights meant larger issues requiring specialized attention hadn’t come up. So he had forgotten that he wasn’t alone in his bad memories.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I’ll tell the others they’ll just have to deal until we have the argo to do it right.” Which would suck, but at least the ones who knew the Loon would get it. The guilt about treating her like any other ship would be worse.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “No Heath.” If ships could sulk, the Loon would be in a corner with a sad expression. “I cannot ask you to do such a thing. I will do it.”

  Internally he relaxed, just a fraction. He would still feel bad for weeks, but unpromising an upgraded galley for their long haul was almost as frightening as delving into an unknown dungeon. “I’m proud of you. Let’s head over to the yard.”

  The flight was short, and so was the procedure. The local Shipwright was kinder than the one that had gutted the Loon at least, and didn’t talk during the process.

  Afterwards they were left with an ugly, but functional, add-on to their tiny kitchenette. Their options for food prep now included a hotplate, a coldplate and some additional utensils. For whatever reason the basic model included a carbonator and a blender as well. Blocky metal the color of rust, with the rest of the unit taken up by storage, leaving no room for ingredient prep, or elbows, or anything besides the single pots and pans included with the set and custom-made to fit the appliances.

  Along with the table that functioned as their dining area, relaxation theater, and occasional conference room, Heath wasn’t sure the whole crew would fit.

  “It is hideous.” The Loon said in a mournful tone. “No one will wish to look upon it, let alone prepare food.”

  “Just remember, it’s temporary. One day we’ll have a full kitchen and entertainment suite and this will just be a distant memory. A story we tell to scare the greenies who don’t know how lucky they are.”

  “I will try.”

  With perfect timing, Copperfield and Jenny Mae returned from their shopping trip, the hover dolly loaded down behind them.

  “Look how much room we have!” Jenny Mae exclaimed. Then she wasted no time transferring groceries. Bulk seasonings filled a third of the cabinets, where vac-sealed containers of synth protein and vegetable matter were packed into every nook and cranny that remained.

  Heath left her to it, and found himself sitting alone on the bridge. “You know, I’ve never been out this far before.”

  “Nor I,” the Loon said.

  “Wait really? Uncle Walt did more long hauls before I joined up.”

  “That he did. But rarely did we go near the Edge. I have traversed half of the Rim of the Empire, but never have my sensors stared out into space while knowing I am the first to see it.”

  Heath leaned back in his chair, taking deep breaths. Time was making it easier, but every once in a while, when he least expected it, sorrow for his uncle would overwhelm everything else. Now, knowing he was going somewhere, doing something that Walt hadn’t, it was a new kind of feeling that gripped him. Not just the tragedy of a life cut short in its prime, or his own misfortune at losing one of his favorite people, but the gentler knowledge that he was not, and never would be, his Uncle. Heath had different priorities and interests, and that meant he would never truly be following in Walt’s footsteps again. The lessons would have to be enough of a legacy on their own.

  “Let’s go, Loon.”

  “With pleasure, Heath.” She switched over to the ship-wide line. “All hands, attention. Course set for Frontier System D4245. Time to jump, four hours and 15 minutes. Time to final destination, estimated 7 months, 18 days.”

  *********

  The Hurson System. Only two jumps out from a hub, the main world was fully colonized, with the nearby moon having enough atmosphere to make the additional terraforming budget worthwhile. A handful of stations, orbiting the planet and in independent orbit around a gas giant. Cheaper to mine the nearby gasses than use mana to create what was needed for the moon.

  Heath gave the crew an evening off to stretch their legs and explore. They discovered Jenny Mae’s [Sharpshooter] skill didn’t translate into arcade games, and that Ekaterina could unerringly find the worst route to navigate a busy port.

  *********

  Vampire Lotus. Full colony rights owned by the child of a noble house even Ekaterina was wary of. Said child had seen pictures of the main planet, so much of it covered in blood-red ocean, that the name was decided before wiser heads could prevail. Not that the mini overlord had ever visited or cared about the planet in question. But it was set up to be a nice little practice fiefdom until the brat had enough experience to be trusted with the management of something the nobles actually cared about.

  Heath broke his usual tradition and brought a vial of the seawater along instead of dirt.

  *******

  Another five jumps and they were at Lercado Station. There was a habitable planet in-system. Technically. But it was tiny and almost entirely devoid of interest. Low gravity and lots of worthless rocks did not make for an enticing colony. The planet would be subdued, but it would be centuries before population expansion built it up to be worth visiting. Maybe it was fated to be a resort planet. If they could convince someone with a terraforming budget anything was possible.

  It was also Heath’s favorite of the recent stops. Lercado Station was unusual, both in location and construction. All the major areas present on any station formed a massive ring. Living quarters, engineering, life support, backup life support, tertiary life support, hydroponics tanks, admin offices, guard stations and the emergency backup life support system. The usual. The spokes of the wheel, however, were each owned by small guilds. And so were each stylized to the absolute limit.

  As they wandered down a jet black hallway, Heath wondered whether that was a good thing. He couldn’t be too mad about it however, as the Ebon Striders were small enough that they would sell their delve slots to a ragtag crew off a tiny hauling ship.

  That was the real reason Lercado was the highlight of the journey so far. Two dungeons, only a hundred meters apart, had formed in the system. Better yet, they were in a stable orbit, rather than fixed relative to the local star like the Forest Path. Which meant the entire station could be built around them, and directly benefit from anything the delvers pulled, all without the absurdly expensive grav-lock enchantments to cut into their loot.

  Jenny Mae had surprised them all when she announced that she had secured a slot for them in both dungeons, only two days apart.

  “I’m surprised the system isn’t built up more, with the dungeons so easy to reach,” Copperfield was saying. The blue lighting lining the ceiling gave a disturbing cast to the former pirate’s usually open features.

  “Dungeons only do so much. Need something else nearby.” Emerald said. Heath agreed. No way would he have come all the way out here without cargo just to delve the two dungeons. “It’s lucky the local guilds are willing to let anyone else dive at all.”

  “Excellent work on that, Jenny.” And he meant it.

  It was absurd that they found her at all. Not many people had the temperament to get offered an admin Class. Of those, only a tiny sliver wanted the life of a spacer, rather than a cushy job in the bureaucracy of one of the colonies. That she had decided to sign onto the Wandering Loon, a ship that was barely afloat at the time, and not a more proven outfit was a decision Heath didn’t quite understand, but which he was eternally thankful for.

  Both delves went off without a hitch. The locals took their percent from the spoils, and the crew moved on. Another two levels and a bonus level to each of his combat skills was a good day’s work.

  Heath was starting to think they might be pretty good at this.