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1. The Escadar
The mining laser cut a pale blue line through the silence.
Today's job: exterior repairs on *Escadar*, an aging waystation at the edge of the asteroid belt. Years of debris impacts and radiation had lifted the outer armor plating until it curled away from the hull like old paint — or scales, on something that had long since stopped being alive.
"...Shutia. D-12 sector, starboard forward. I'm going to peel the warped plating. Get the anchor ready."
Ledea eased the ship into position with her usual unhurried precision.
"Copy, sis. — There."
Shutia pulled the lever. The tow anchor shot out and caught the damaged plate cleanly, steel claws locking on. She pulled. The plate tore free in a shower of sparks, spinning off into the vacuum.
"Done. New plate, please."
"On it. Holding position."
Ledea brought the replacement in with the manipulator arm; Shutia was already welding before it had fully settled, the mining laser tracing the seam in one smooth pass.
No unnecessary words. Just two people who knew each other's timing well enough that words weren't always needed. Like a dance, if the dance involved heavy machinery and the cold of space.
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2. A Quiet Afternoon (Forecast: Clear)
"...We're ahead of schedule. At this rate we'll finish three hours early."
Ledea stretched — all 140 centimeters of her shifting in the pilot's seat, the suit a little too large around the shoulders.
"Good work, sis. Here." Shutia appeared from behind her and held out a thermal mug. Cocoa, still warm.
"Thank you. ...Your anchor accuracy has been particularly good today."
"Ehehe — praise from sis." Shutia settled back into her station, pleased. "Hey, when we finish — can we go to that sweets shop in the station? The one I found last time?"
The shadow from the previous job — that cold, possessive quiet — was nowhere in Shutia today. She was just this: a capable partner, a fond younger sister, content to exist in the same space as Ledea and let that be enough.
Ledea, for her part, received *Shutia's love* the way she always did — as a fact of daily life, like gravity — and drank her cocoa with something almost resembling peace.
The peace lasted until the comm crackled.
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3. The Gold Paint, Again
*"— Hey! You in the junk heap! Move it! That repair zone was supposed to be MY contract!"*
The voice was immediately, viscerally familiar.
On the monitor: a ship that had clearly been through something and equally clearly refused to acknowledge it. The gold decorations had been repainted. Every single one of them, back in place, gleaming with aggressive optimism.
"...Ms. Katrine."
Ledea's expression did something complicated.
*"That's RIGHT! The galaxy's greatest treasure hunter — now ALSO the galaxy's premier engineer — Lady Katrine!"*
Katrine was already red in the face. When her eyes landed on Shutia, they went a shade darker.
*"And YOU. I haven't forgotten what you did. Throwing garbage at my ship with an anchor — you call that civilized?! Maintenance is a delicate ART! You wouldn't understand the first thing about it!"*
"She's not going to calm down, is she," Ledea said, to no one.
Shutia sighed.
"She really isn't." She looked at the screen. "Hey. Auntie. Do you want your paint stripped again?"
*"WHO ARE YOU CALLING — I'm in my TWENTIES—"*
"From where I'm standing, that still counts." Shutia's voice stayed perfectly even. "You're in our way. Go away."
Katrine's face went the color of her decorations.
*"FINE. Then let's settle this properly — whoever finishes their section faster AND cleaner wins. Loser never works this station again!"*
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4. The Repair Race
"I'll deal with her. ...That's okay, right, sis?"
"...Fine. We may as well finish this now."
Katrine's ship came in fast, her new manipulator arms spraying sparks as she slapped plate after plate into position with dramatic flair.
*"Watch and learn! This is what a professional looks like!"*
Ledea and Shutia did not watch. They worked.
"Shutia. C-08 next. Three panels, simultaneous."
"Got it. Pulling them all at once."
Three anchors launched in sequence. A whole section of degraded hull came away in one piece. Ledea slid the replacement panels into the gap before the debris had finished spinning clear — angle perfect, no adjustment needed.
The station workers watching from the observation deck went quiet.
*"What — how are they — that's not FAIR, they're too in sync—"*
"It's not unfair," Ledea said. "It's the difference in our coordination."
The sentence landed somewhere in Katrine's chest and stayed there.
She overcorrected. Pushed the output too high on her welding laser. A secondary pipe began to glow.
*"Oh no — that's not supposed to—"*
"Auntie, watch out." Shutia was already moving — anchor tip nudging Katrine's ship firmly aside while Ledea vented suppression gas over the pipe and began the repair in the same motion.
From the observation deck, someone started clapping. Then someone else joined in.
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5. Gold Dust, Again
It wasn't close.
Katrine's ship retreated with three fewer decorative panels than it had arrived with, the exposed patches gleaming dully against the repainted gold.
*"This isn't over! Next time I'll find somewhere much more prestigious to beat you—!"*
She was gone before the sentence finished.
Ledea exhaled.
"...Exhausting."
Shutia's arms were around her before she'd finished the word.
"You were incredible, sis. Your flying today was a hundred times better than that gold-plated auntie's. No — a hundred million times."
"Shutia, it's warm. ...But we did finish early." Ledea glanced toward the station. "We said we'd go to that sweets shop."
"YES! I love you, sis!"
Shutia grabbed Ledea's hand and pulled her toward the exit, practically bouncing.
She was happy today. Genuinely, straightforwardly happy — the kind that didn't need anything else added to it.
She wanted days like this to go on forever.
She wanted Ledea right here, exactly like this.
Somewhere she couldn't go anywhere.