Once Upon a Distant Star

Chapter One

Chapter One

"You're here for...what?"

The girl had to be joking; she had to be. Standing there in her tidy white blouse and prim-but-never-stodgy—never that—knee-length skirt, with her brunette hair curled to perfection and her nails delicately manicured, she was as out of place as a fish at a dance party. Unable to stop herself, Yrida glanced down at her paint and oil smeared coveralls and winced.

"The job?" The girl's eyebrows—perfect, just like the rest of her, rose. "This is the Night Witch, right?"

"Ye-es." Even so, Yri leaned back on her heels and glanced at the hull of the ship. Yep, still gleaming black with undertones of blue, purple and orange anodization.

"Then I'm here about the job. The one for a new crew member."

They had put out an ad, that was true. Neu Erde spaceport seemed the best place for it. Planetside, on the dirt ball that had become humanity's new cradle, it was far from some of the seedy space stations they'd been in and out of most their lives, the less-than-trustworthy spacers they knew. And so was this young woman, who held out her hand, revealing the mesh of a top-of-the-line Chiromancer across her palm, and called to life the holo-ad.

One way or another, Yri and her partner Paranda had been in space since they were toddlers. They'd apprenticed together on their first salvage-op ship in their teens, and had been working the wreck-run as a team for the past five years—once they realized they loved each other rather than hated each other, and put their savings together to buy the Night Witch. But a two-woman crew and an AI were ill-suited to the larger jobs, and so finally they all agreed: It was time to try a third member.

But this posh princess? Fires, no! A quick glance around her should Yri a cart, piled with a large duffle bag and the most enormous metal suitcase she'd ever seen. They didn't need the trouble, and they certainly didn't need the extra weight.

"We'd never hire someone like you," she blurted out—and instantly winced in regret. "Sorry. Look, I'm a very particular person and, as you can tell, not great with the filter, so—"

"Yeah, I read your bios. They were included with the ad." The girl smiled, and damnit, she was beautiful. Stunning. The kind of face only money could buy. "My little brother is autistic too, and he's always um...struggled a bit with tact. And he did warn me I'd probably get this reaction. Little booger is always right."

Yri's people-reading skills were, typical to people like her, widely varied and often flat out wrong; sometimes even with RandyRanda and they'd been together more than ten years. But there was something in the girl's eyes that struck her as sincere, even if she could never had explained precisely what.

"That's...I mean, I'm glad that you understand. But this is a serious job. Hard. Dangerous, even. I'm not sure what you could—I mean, what can you even...do?"

She closed her hand, the holo swallowed up between her fingers. When she opened them again, the text of a document scrolled up into the air in a fountain of words. "My CV."

Yri reached out, and the holo jumped from the girl's Chiromancer to her own like a spider leaping from web to web. "Okay, well, uh...wow. Are those really your marksmanship scores? Er, Verity, is it?"

"Yes."

Verity bent to open the lock on her metal case. Unable to help herself, Yri peeked up from the CV. Verity had legs for days, and hair as smooth and fine as chocolate, and sure, Yri loved RandyRanda, but that didn't stop her from noticing attractive women. It didn't stop RandyRanda, either, which had resulted in some adventures at a few of the brothels in a number of ports. But nice though she was to look at, Yri couldn't imagine what this woman had to offer.

Almost, she could hear RandyRanda's voice in her head: This is why I should do the interviews. Of the three of them, Yri had fought hardest to avoid a new crew member. Most people didn't understand her, and that was just fine, because she didn't understand them either. She didn't like to talk to them, and she sure as fires didn't want them in her personal space. Night Witch was her personal space. Her not very big personal space. Having Verity and her family-sized suitcase aboard would—

Yri stared as the metal lid released, letting out a faint hiss of air as it revealed smooth, gleaming surfaces. Forgetting the CV, she hurried down the boarding ramp to stare at the spanking new, cutting-edge EVA suit. Etched into the fine velvet it was nestled in, in writing that glimmered silver, was the name Vagabond. A small bubble of nerd-glee rose in Yri's chest and she resisted the urge to start spec dumping.

"This—this is Rancor's best walker."

"I know." Verity's answering smile was wry. "Believe me, I know. You mentioned my marksmanship scores?"

"Right. I mean, they're impressive, no doubt, but..." Yri opened her hand again. "You're...you're a business major."

"Yes...but also, a fast learner," Verity said brightly. "And a great shot. And I come with the Vagabond."

Yri started to shake her head. "I...I'd love to try that very much, but I don't think..."

After an apprenticeship as a salvage-op and five years doing actual wreck dives, Yri was used to shit hitting the fan. In this case, it was actually a bullet, and it was actually hitting the hull of the Night Witch, and only the fact that she'd been shot at before kept her from freaking the fuck out.

Verity reacted like some kind of space marine. She ducked low behind the Vagabond's case, yanked her duffle open, and drew out a pistol.

"Help me get this on board!" she yelled to Yri. "Now!"

RandyRanda is going to kill me, was her first thought. Her second was, the guys with the guns are going to kill me for real. She sprang forward, grabbed the edge of the cart, and hauled with all her strength, dragging it up on the ramp. Verity fired off several shots, than grabbed her duffle and shoved it, one handed, in Yri's face. Yri tossed it into the airlock, then slammed down the lid of the case and grabbed the handle.

"Do you always bring bad guys to job interviews?" Yri puffed, as she hauled on the case. "Or are we just special?"

"Both." Verity popped off another shot, then darted up the ramp and grabbed the handle too. "But this is my first job interview, so it hardly counts, right?"

"This is not," Yri pulled, "a very good," and pulled, "start to our relationship!"

With a last tug and a huff fit to blow down piggie houses, Yri—admittedly with Verity's help—pulled the case into the airlock. Shouting and running footsteps reached her ears, so instead of taking a moment to lie around indolently and gasp like a landed fish, she forced herself to her knees and slapped the door access. And quickly ducked, pinning herself against the wall as another shot whizzed through the airlock.

"Yri," RandyRanda's voice came over the comms, "what the fuck are you doing to my ship?"

"Our ship," Yri panted back. "And as co-owner, I declare the need for an immediate unplanned departure."

"What—"

"Now, RandyRanda!"

"Fine. But I expect an explanation."

Yri glowered at Verity. "Oh, you'll get one." She flinched as several shots rang off the hull, then sighed. "Great. I have no idea when I'll be able to fix the paint job, either."