The Skydancer's galley felt strangely inviting now, with the dim, ominous red lighting from their first encounter replaced by bright, welcoming overheads. Ezekiel sat at the table in the center of the room, watching as Kira stood in front of the hydrator oven, hands on her hips inside oversized welding gloves. Ezekiel's stomach rumbled as the smell of overcooked food filled the room. The oven beeped, and she grinned.

"Here it is!" she proclaimed, pulling a steaming metal mold from the oven. "My signature Turbo Fuel Pasta Casserole! If this doesn't fill your tank to the brim, nothing will!"

The pasta lay in thick, clumped coils, coated in a sauce so dry it cracked like old paint, while the synth-beef absorbed every bit of moisture it could, leaving the whole dish oddly gritty.

"Smells like burnt plastic," Ezekiel muttered.

"Don't judge before you taste it," Kira said, setting the mold down with a smirk. "Just take it slow, you beast, or you'll burn your mouth."

Ezekiel scooped a spoonful onto his plate, his face impassive. He speared some with his fork, the hot pasta mushy and rubbery in his mouth. "Tastes like burnt plastic."

Kira crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. "Oh, well, excuse me if I've never quadrupled the recipe before!"

"So, your bad cooking is my fault now?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"You think I cook for ogres every day? It seemed reasonable to quadruple the oven time as well. Guess that was a mistake."

Ezekiel chuckled. "You think?"

She stuck her fork into the casserole and took a bite, her face tightening. "Okay... maybe it's not my best work," she shrugged. "But hey, I'm a pilot, not a chef. If you don't like it, there's always meal bars and shakes."

Ezekiel pulled his plate toward him. "I'll eat it. I'd eat cardboard if you offered it."

Kira smiled, scooping more onto her own plate and sitting at the table. "You like it, big guy. You just don't want to admit it."

They ate in silence for a while, the hum of the ship's systems mingling with the clink of silverware.

"So," Kira said, breaking the quiet, "what's your name? Your real one?"

Ezekiel paused, fork in hand, as he considered her question. "Ezekiel. Ezekiel Stone."

Kira grinned. "Stone? Well, that suits you. Harsh and silent," she quipped, leaning back casually and taking another bite.

Ezekiel ignored her joke and said nothing, letting the silence fill the space again.

"So, you have a sister, huh?" Kira asked, giving him a sly look over her plate.

Ezekiel's jaw tightened. "How do you-"

"You just lost it when I mentioned a sister back at that elevator," she said, stirring the food on her plate with her fork. "You two close?"

Ezekiel exhaled slowly, a familiar tightness coiling in his chest. "We were... Haven't seen Sarah in ten years."

Kira held her fork in the air, her expression softening. "How come?"

Ezekiel looked away, his shoulders rigid. His fingers curled around the steel cutlery as though holding it tighter might keep his voice steady. "She took off. Couldn't stand what I'd become."

The room seemed quieter, the ship's vibration fading into the background. For a long time, it had been just the two of them against the world. Her laugh, soft and bright, used to cut through the darkness of their lives. Then he remembered the way she looked at him the last time they spoke-eyes wide, full of fear and shame. A monster. That's what she saw.

"Funny thing is, I got into this life for her. To protect her." Ezekiel's voice trailed off, his gaze drifting. The image of her walking away was burnt in his mind, taking the last of who he used to be with her.

Kira kept her gaze steady on him, thoughtful. Silence lingered between them before she spoke again. "If you went into this life for her, why stay in it now? What's keeping you?"

Ezekiel let out a low, humorless laugh, giving her a faint smile that didn't touch his eyes. "You don't just get out. Once you're in, you're in for good. No turning back."

Kira tilted her head, her eyes sharp with challenge. "That's because you're afraid of him," she shot back, pointing her fork at him. "Face it, your boss owns you. You're too scared to break free. He's turned you into a tool." She leaned in, her voice sharp. "And when he doesn't need you anymore-"

"Enough." He cut her off, hand trembling, squeezing his fork. He took an angry bite of the pasta, the taste of overcooked meat lingering on his tongue as he swallowed it along with his rising frustration.

But it didn't go away. The anger stuck there, choking him.

She didn't press him further, her focus dropping back to her food. Ezekiel took a deep breath, studying her. "How about you? Family?"

"Nope," she replied mid-chew, her gaze fixed on her plate.

"Doesn't everybody have someone?" he asked, watching her carefully.

"I don't," she shot back, still not looking at him.

"Don't lie. I saw the picture in your room. Looked like a happy family."

Kira froze, her fork hovering mid-air. Something flashed in her eyes-pain, sorrow? Then she turned, pinning him with an annoyed glare. "Well, they're all dead. War. Happy?" She looked away, stabbing her food hard. "Next subject."

Ezekiel's face softened. "Sorry," he muttered, lowering his gaze. He knew what it felt like to lose family-the kind of pain that lingered in quiet moments, clawing at you when you least expected it.

Kira didn't respond, sitting stiffly, her focus locked on her plate. She chewed in silence, her movements tense and controlled.

Silence lingered again. Ezekiel grabbed another spoonful of Kira's casserole. She watched as he filled his plate, a triumphant smile tugging at her lips before returning to her food.

Ezekiel gazed at Kira as she ate. He hesitated, then, almost smirking, decided to push her again. "Boyfriend?"

Her eyes shot up, brows knitting together in irritation. "No," she said flatly. "And before you ask, not interested."

"I wasn't going to ask."

"Good." She stabbed her fork into a piece of meat, as if to punctuate the conversation.

"Who's Lucia?" he tried, wondering why she kept a drawing of herself and a girl hung in her quarters.

Kira arched an eyebrow. "Good things I don't keep a diary, right? You'd have read it cover to cover by now!" Her gaze was sharp enough to cut steel.

"Forget I asked." He shrugged, scooping another forkful of casserole, acting unfazed.

After a moment, he looked at her, chewing thoughtfully. "You know, you could join us. Permanently. It'd be a win-win."

"I'd rather be monster food," she shot back, her tone flat.

"It's better to work with a team," he pressed gently. "Someone to watch your back."

"Or to stick a knife in it." She stabbed at her food harder. "No thanks. I'm better off alone."

"Suit yourself." Ezekiel's gaze dropped back to his plate. "But from where I'm sitting, you're setting yourself to end up very lonely... and very dead."

Kira's jaw clenched, her eyes flaring with fresh anger. In one swift motion, she slid her plate across the table, the silverware clinking. "I'm done with this chat." She jerked her chin toward the plate. "I cooked, so you're on dish duty." Gripping the table, she shoved her chair back with a sharp scrape against the floor, rising fast. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be on the cockpit, figuring out how to get us to Nexeria faster. Can't wait to rid myself of your delightful company."

With that, she spun on her heel, her footsteps ringing out on the metal floor as she stormed from the room. Ezekiel watched her go with a long sigh, shaking his head slightly. She was tougher than she looked-stubborn, too. And something told him they'd be butting heads again soon.

***

As Ezekiel entered the cockpit, he was greeted by a kaleidoscope of blue and white lights streaming through the viewport. Interstellar travel remained a mystery to him-a marvel he didn't even try to comprehend, but it had a beauty that always left him momentarily breathless. The swirling patterns of light seemed infinite, a reminder of how small they were in the vastness of space. For a brief moment, he felt an almost meditative calm, as if the universe itself was breathing around them.

Kira sat in the pilot's chair, in her socks, feet propped up on the control panel. The ethereal glow reflected off her face as she scrolled casually through her holopad. She looked as at ease as if she were lounging in a living room, the contrast of her nonchalance and the grandeur outside striking.

"Oh, joy," she muttered dryly, not even turning her head as he approached.

"How long to Nexeria?" he asked, settling into the seat beside her.

A faint beep echoed from the panel, and she stowed her holopad, swinging her feet off the dashboard. "Guess you made it just in time," she said, her fingers dancing over the controls. "We're jumping out in five."

Ezekiel shifted, clearing his throat. After a moment, Kira wrinkled her nose, her head snapping toward him. "Oh my god, you didn't."

"What?" he asked, a grin tugging at his lips.

"Holy fuck!" She made a face, smacking a button on the console, the ventilation system kicking into full gear. "Are you rotting inside?"

Ezekiel chuckled, his shoulders shaking slightly. "Not my fault your food is that bad."

She scowled. "Then how come I'm not dropping stink bombs all over the ship?"

"Guess your body's immune to your lousy cooking."

"Oh, perfect," she muttered, rolling her eyes as she fanned the air in front of her face. "How am I ever gonna get this smell out of my cockpit?"

"Something to remember me by," he said, laughing loud enough to rattle the seat.

Kira's eyes narrowed, glaring. "Do it again, and I'll shoot you out the missile port, you oversized reek rocket."

The console beeped again, this time louder. Kira sighed, leaning into the controls. "Okay, jumping out in three... two... one..."

The bright lights outside the viewport faded, replaced by something vast and ominous. Starships, hundreds of them: cruisers, frigates, fighters, and destroyers-a whole fleet. They loomed directly in front of them, gleaming and menacing, like a pack of wolves closing in on small prey.

Ezekiel's eyes narrowed. "Terrans..."

Kira's face went pale, her hands gripping the control yoke tightly. "Son of a..." she shot him a sharp look. "Did you know about this?"

Ezekiel shook his head, jaw tight, his eyes fixed on a massive cruiser moving in front of them, small fighters swirling like wild bees around a hive. Kira's knuckles were white on the controls.

A female voice cut through the comms, calm and authoritarian. "Light transport vessel, state your destination, manifest, and cargo, and await further instructions."

Ezekiel and Kira exchanged a tense glance. Without a word, her hand moved back to the controls. "I think I'm having déjà vu," she muttered, swiping a screen and sending the information.

"They won't be looking for the biometric data. We're good... I think," Ezekiel said, fingers tightening around the edge of his seat.

Kira's brow furrowed, worry etched into her features as she picked up her holopad. "What the hell are they doing here? Another blockade?" She scrolled through the screen, scanning for updates, her eyes darting back to the looming ships ahead.

Nexeria was among the wealthiest systems of the Fringe, known for being a vital trade hub between the Terran Commonwealth and the Fringe systems. The fact that the Terrans were here with such a massive fleet did not bode well.

"Hey, check this out," said Kira, tapping her holopad. A man's voice crackled through the device.

"First Citizen Takahashi has arrived in the Nexeria system, marking the first time in over five decades that a chief executive has ventured beyond Terran Space. The FC is there to sign new trade and cooperation treaties with the local government, in hopes this will pave the way to bring stability and security to the entire Fringe. Analysts heard by TerraVox News say that-"

Kira's eyes narrowed as she cut off the recording. " 'Stability and security'-more like a leash," she muttered. "The First Citizen, huh? No wonder they've got half their fleet out there. And the Nexeria Council's just going to roll over for him?"

"If the council thinks they'll profit... yes, they will," Ezekiel said, his gaze fixed on the fleet stretching across the viewport. He'd seen enough Terran interventions to know that 'stability' meant more Terran oversight and less freedom for Fringers. Only the powerful would gain from such arrangements, leaving the small folk to suffer the consequences.

A fighter zipped past them through the viewport, the blue and gold of the Commonwealth gleaming on its silver plating. Kira's gaze followed it intently as it streaked by. "If they make us linger here, you'll be late meeting your buyer," she said, her tone clipped.

Ezekiel exhaled slowly. "We have to wait. No way we're getting past a Terran Armada."

Kira bit her lip, eyes never leaving the viewport.

The woman's voice returned on the comms, her tone oddly polite. "Small transport vessel, you are cleared to proceed to your destination."

Kira's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

Ezekiel leaned back in his chair, a smug grin tugging at his lips. "See? Nothing to worry about."

As her hands moved over the controls, guiding the ship forward, Kira pressed her lips together. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Author's Note:

Thank you so much for reading!

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