Muse Paisley, Days Later

I came back from my break. I follow all the rules, including Muses should never state their gender inside the booth. Okay, sometimes I even mess that one up. Contrary to popular belief, not all Muses are female. Our voices are partially distorted through the creative's head, but Mason can hear us more clearly.

There are hundreds of rules regarding Muses. Informing Mason he was meant to die didn't violate any of them despite what the new Apollo thinks. His predecessor added the rule three years ago. She was a real leader and a better Apollo.

He is a weasel and can't fire me.

I turned the projection on.

Over half the crew abandoned their cabins and dorms for the luxury of the Stingray.

Everything from the cobbler shop to the mess hall appeared as if it were an empty husk.

The dimly lit hallway offered comfort and solace for Mason, and I bet he pondered his existence as he walked the halls, trying to evade his attackers. He tucked postcards in his pocket. Part of his little collection was always somewhere on his body.

Each card was white with red, black, and gold lettering with an official government seal.

Musty aromas wafted from the paper, but it wasn't unpleasant, more like old books or a garden after the rain. We needed the ability to smell our subject's world, in case they were a chef or perfumer.

Large banging steps followed him, becoming louder and louder with each clang. Mason swung around.

Red eyes peered at him behind their plastic masks.

"Who are you?"

No voices answered, but small screeches filled the air. The two masked men chased after him. Both grasped laser daggers in their right hands, their arms moving up and down in awkward, puppet-like movements.

Each potential stab inched closer and closer to Mason's flesh.

Mason glanced around and headed to the entryway, and he used the heavy gray door to strike the closest man in the face. Mason snatched the glowing blade's handle before it fell to the floor.

The other man lunged at him, and Mason rammed him into a pipe that ran along the wall.

He dragged them to the Damage Locker, and the assigned officer removed their masks, revealing dented robots.

Mason filled out paperwork and said nothing to the clerk. He walked briskly towards Commander Nickel's office. A robot dressed as a human scratched at his throat. He kicked the machine, denting its torso. Its twisted metal husk landed in front of Nickel's desk.

"Not again!" She kicked it into the corner.

"Sorry, Commander. Robot assassins attacked me."

"If my superiors gave me the power to fire you, I'd do it in a heartbeat. It's not that you're incompetent, but trouble finds you even when you don't carry the short straw. Promise me that you'll quit."

"Sorry, I'm still under contract with the government, but I'll consider it after the weekend."

"At least let me upgrade your weapons," Nickel said.

"No, like you, I'm uncomfortable with guns that go past stun mode." He winked at her.

Nickel shrunk back. "The idea of ending a life frightens me more than dying." She shoved a stack of self-help books into one corner of her messy desk, titled No Wonder Your Friends Hate You and How to Command a Crew of Idiots. "Pumpkin, do you have any idea who sent these fiends?" she asked.

"You deal with the cheap robot because my weekends are mine."

"I'd love to because it'll give me something to do. General Allen wants a meeting with me, but I dread running into him."

"I thought Kitten Allen liked you. Why did he punish you by making you the temp commander of The Flying Clutch? Tolbert is his brother, and none of this is your fault. Temps always die."

Commander Nickel kicked her desk. "Unlike you, some of us have actual problems."

"Nickel, I didn't mean to pry."

"Well, you did...." She paused. "Why am I acting like this? You're the only person besides your mother who doesn't treat me like garbage." Nickel stopped speaking for a moment. "Let me show you something." She opened her closet. Dented robot parts fell to the ground. "Cultists hate that we went up against Tolbert Allen. I'll do my best to keep you alive."

"Commander, it's part of the job." His fingers nervously tapped on her desk.

"Um... could you share a cup of mint tea with me and tell me I'm not the most horrible person in the world?" She leaned on her gray desk.

"Absolutely," his voice hesitated a little.

Commander Nickel located a couple of clean cups in a bin and used a 3D food printer to create the tea, but Mason stared at his cup. "You're more capable than the last few commanders, and fewer crew members are dying since you placed the short straws only in my weapon."

"They're in my laser guns as well because, like you, I'm a lousy temp." She smiled with a hint of sadness. "Okay, I'm proving my loyalty after I made a huge mistake. Your mom knows, but I dated someone off-limits. I was wrong. He was engaged to another woman, but he was also a cultist."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Thank you for being the only one who cares. Do you have any ideas on how to purge love from my heart? Why can't I ever get my life right? My family despises me. I throw myself into work, and it's the only time I am happy, but I wonder if I should want more."

"Nickel, I haven't been in love for years, but I entertain myself with lots of hobbies. Weightlifting and singing are two of them."

"That is a fantastic idea. I should take an online class in art. You're an abstract artist, right?"

"Yes, but I am bad at it. Being a playwright is my main source of income, and working on this ship is a side hustle until my contract ends. How about I teach you how to write a poem?"

"I hate poetry, but it might be fun." The commander's phone rang. "How about next weekend over tea?" She took the call and motioned for Mason to go but stopped him. "Your mother has been protecting you for years. She's the best woman."

"Mom loves me too much, but I'm sorry that your family life is terrible. If you need an extra brother, I'll volunteer." He glanced at her wrist tattoo. Daisies and roses covered an earlier attempt.

Mason took Nickel's cup without her noticing and walked to the lab.

Only one technician remained. Tricia adjusted her goggles over her burgundy hair. Her name tag shimmered.

She pulled out playing cards that were tucked behind her digital microscopes. The galaxy image on the front changed into a simple black card with white stars on it. "My trick still isn't right."

"No, I love it." Mason set the cup down. "Please, run both DNA analysis and fingerprints. Compare it to the samples and the medical records I provided. Do not ask questions,"

"Why are you so cloak and dagger?" Tricia shifted from a human to a deer humanoid, to a fairy, and then to a goat. Her clothes shifted and transformed with her, but she always resembled the same woman. "Clothes transformation is my latest illusion. Might as well use my shifting abilities for talent night."

"Tricia, you should also perform your vanishing roses trick."

"You're right. It's a classic. I wish you were my Muse. Mine is always half-drunk somewhere."

"Wish mine was," Mason said.

"Do you need any more assistance?" Tricia asked.

"Yes, I do." He placed a tube on the counter. "I also want Shanna Salamander's DNA tested. Don't ask me how I found an additional sample, but I might have rummaged through her garbage. I'm kidding; she gave it to me. But don't tell my mom because Shanna refused her requests."

"Why, everyone loves your mom? Is Shanna angry about being forced into the corporate orphanage? I'm tired of these so-called businesses taking rights from parents. I'm all for capitalism, but foster care and business don't mix."

"The orphanage let us have controlled contact with my sister until they sold her to a private orphanage, and eventually, they gave her to a more worthy family," Mason said.

"You could be related to a celebrity. I know you're a star too, but you're different because you don't have an assistant. Shanna would be around your sister's age since it's a fact she adds a couple of years, and she has feathered wings like your mother's late husband and your brother's. Her eyes look like yours, and she used to have wolf ears and a tail."

"Yes, her wings resemble Birdie's," Mason admitted. "Do you have any reports of the murders?"

"No, but I discovered a weird coincidence or a clue. One of the suspects on the list, Charlotte Shuttleman, also transported the body of your mom's deceased husband, August Even-Core. She works for Agency-14 for the general and his family, so she is easy to reach." The lab tech shoved the paperwork into Mason's hands.

"Not that it'll help. Rag-And-Bone Merchants sent me dozens of faked papers, and I doubt Charlotte is honest. She won't answer my emails or phone calls."

"If anything shows. I'll text you."

Mason handed her tickets to a magic show. "And there is an extra for your new boyfriend for an early birthday gift. See you around."

"You're the best brother from another mother I've ever had, and not the jerk face brother I'm related to."

"Speaking of brothers." Mason winked at her.

"Don't tell Birdie what I said about him. That was before I found a new boyfriend. "

"I won't, and goodbye." Mason made his way to the darkened sanctuary and closed the door behind him. His micro-apartment was safe, and he was finally alone.

He called his grandma first, and they chatted. "I threatened to pummel Quin, but I threaten a lot of people, and I never claimed I'd kill anyone."

"Grandma, you're not a serious suspect. I wouldn't be asking for your expertise if you were. While I'm able to find time stamps embedded in photos. Examining advanced computer coding for digital fingerprints is beyond my abilities."

"If you need anything else, call me, but please be careful. I love you always," she said.

His call waiting rang.

"Love you too. Gotta leave. Birdie is on the line."

"I'm assisting him with his issue as well," she said.

"Oh, Grandma, I hope a drunk creep hasn't run him over again." He hung up and took his brother's call.

"Are you okay?" Mason asked.

"Yes, the leg braces should be off soon. It's a miracle that I survived the hit-and-run, but it was an accident, and the drunk driver was finally arrested."

"Are you positive that no one is trying to kill you?" Mason took a deep breath.

I wondered if Mason would confess to his brother about the many attempts on his own life, but he didn't.

"Mason, you sound like Grandma. She already has it out for the corrupt CEO., Rob Salamander. Don't tell her, but he took my passport. He's telling my new boss, Kay, to give him the key to the force field, but of course, she won't risk that."

Mason's already massive eyes widened further, and they resembled a big-eyed painting by Margaret Keane. "Trying to injure you might show Kay he is serious. Rob shouldn't mess with Grandma. Honestly, he might end up like his mom and sister."

Birdie burst into laughter. "We shouldn't joke about that. Mom wouldn't find it funny. Grandma is wonderful, but Kay Salamander Poe is sketchy. She gave me accounts with huge amounts of credits. And I think she might be involved in money laundering. She hasn't shown up to work for weeks."

"What's your plan?" Mason asked.

"I trust Grandma, but not Mrs. Poe. She's the new king's mother, and honestly, my boss is the true power. No one even calls the king by his name. What can I do? The bank won't allow me access without a court order or password. It's my account!"

"Call Grandma or Mom. They'll help."