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N andina wasn’t lying. Dinner waits for me in the mess hall. Real food, too, an actual meal.

It comes with an audience. The captain’s there, and First takes up a position right beside her, at least until she tells them to go back to the bridge and “monitor.” Which means, of course, there’s something—or someone—to monitor. I tuck into the tray in front of me—there’s protein goop in the slop, but the bumpy bits have to be actual, real lentils, which is nice, and whether the leaves spotting the mix are rehydrated or not, I absolutely appreciate the chance to eat something green that’s not a by-product of recycler worms.

The captain talks to Nandina, who, after assuring her I’m healthy, not carrying some weird alien plague, and unlikely to die anytime soon, is sent away. I wave at her, and she waves back. Such a nice doctor.

Rian White stays. He sits down across from me even when the captain remains standing. And the captain doesn’t like that. And he doesn’t care. And these lentils are really good.

“Are there seconds?” I ask.

Rian looks like he’s going to offer more, but the captain snaps, “No.”

I lick my spoon. “Any hot sauce?”

“No,” she says again.

“Ah, you guys get real food on the regular, then. If you were using worms, you’d have a whole tank of hot sauce.”

Rian cringes, the look of a guy who knows how little hot sauce does for the aftertaste but how important it is anyway.

“What are you doing in this sector?” the captain asks.

“You can sit, you know,” I say, gesturing with the spoon. “It’s a little awkward just staring up at you like this.” I said that to be nice, because she’s short enough to not hear that kind of thing often, but she just keeps scowling. “I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m the captain of the Halifax ,” the captain of the Halifax says.

“Yes, but Captain what? ” I ask. Her jaw tightens. Oh, this one does not like being questioned. Not even for a name. I wonder if she’s had interrogation training. I wonder if she’s just had interrogation training for this mission.

“Ursula, just sit,” Rian says.

I shoot him a grin. “Yes, please do, Ursula.”

“Captain Io,” she snaps. But she does at least sit.

“So, I’m guessing I’m here for the same reason you’re here,” I say cheerily, scraping the spoon along the bottom of the tray. “Salvage. The UGS Roundabout is not going to loot itself, after all.”

“You are not supposed to know about the UGS Roundabout, ” Ursula says.

I give her an exaggerated wink. “And neither are you.”

“How did you get here so quickly?”

I pick up the metal tray and lick the bottom. When I put it down, Ursula and Rian are both waiting for my answer.

“I didn’t get here any quicker than my ship can go.” I shrug. “Then again, I think I blew a fuel line, so maybe I ran a little hot.”

“Ms. Lamarr,” Rian starts.

“Mr. White.” I match his deep tone.

“How long have you been at this site?”

I shrug. “Two standard days.”

“The UGS Roundabout only crashed ten cycles ago. This is not a typical route. From almost any port, you’d have to have come here within hours of the crash to be here before us.”

“Look, you know I’m not going to tell you my source,” I say, leveling with him. “Looters’ code.”

“Looters don’t have a code,” Ursula protests, a distinct snarl to her voice.

“Are you saying you don’t have a code? No wonder you almost let me die before deigning to rescue me.” There’s an edge in my voice now. “Because, see, the law says a ship crash can be scavenged if it’s not reported by the government as off-limits. And Roundabout ’s not been reported. So, I’m in the right here, and just because you don’t like that don’t mean I’m breaking the law.”

My gaze slides from the captain over to Rian. “But you , on the other hand, ignored a distress call for hours .”

And that is against the law. Any ship within range of a distress call must answer the distress call if they have the means. And clearly, Halifax has the means.

The captain squares her shoulders, her eyes narrowed, but I glare right back at her. She has the grace to shrink a little. “There was some...” She swallows. “Some debate about the validity of your call.”

I raise both my eyebrows. I’m not seeing everything in a red haze anymore, but I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror in the med bay, and I know my eyes are still crimson from the burst blood vessels.

“You have to understand how unlikely it was that you were here,” the captain continues. She doesn’t like being in the wrong, and she’s the type of person who wants to talk her way into being right. She’s had too many people believe her just for speaking, and it shows. “It seemed clear that a distress signal from this location, at this time, would be sabotage, and...”

“And yet it wasn’t,” I say simply.

Her mouth closes.

“Do you know what it’s like to count each breath?” I continue. “Do you know how it feels to pick up a ship’s signal, to know it’s in range, and to be ignored, all while your last oxygen tank gets lower?” I huff a bitter laugh. “I’ve always known the risks out here. You think I haven’t considered them when I’m a single person on an old ship? Something goes wrong out here...I know how that ends. I just...” I shake my head, the tip of my tongue on my teeth. “I expect to die alone if something goes wrong in the black. I just never thought I’d have an audience who watched without even answering my distress call.”

I’ve made Ursula realize the full depths of how wrong she was. I’m not sure what Rian’s role on the Halifax is, but no one has higher authority on any ship than the captain. It was her call.

And she made it wrong.

And we all know it. Without question. Even her.

“Ms. Lamarr, I cannot express how sorry I am—” she starts.

“And you won’t even give me seconds.”

The captain blinks at me, stunned, and there’s little nervous tic near her left eye as she stands up, grabs my food tray, and goes over to the dispenser to get me another round of those lentils. “And some leaves!” I call to her.

“It’s spinach,” she says.

I shrug. A leaf is a leaf, but green stuff? Damn, that’s expensive. “Double spinach, please!”

Rian smirks at me. “You’re good,” he says while Ursula busies herself with the dispenser.

“I am.” I grin at him. “At what?”

He doesn’t answer. Those eyes of his. They don’t miss a thing. I shovel a spoonful of lentils into my mouth as soon as the captain drops the tray in front of me.

“How did you know that the Roundabout wrecked?” Rian asks. He doesn’t seem impatient that I have to chew; he speaks like this is idle conversation.

“Looter to looter?” I motion him closer, as if I’m going to whisper a secret, then shake my head. “I’m not telling.”

“We’re not looters.” The captain’s voice brooks no argument. “We’re here to salvage—”

I shrug. “ Salvage is just a few letters away from scavenge . I bet they have the same roots. Probably French. Wild that a country that doesn’t even exist anymore can fuck up our language so much.”

Rian frowns, and a cute little wrinkle forms on his brow. “I don’t think you’re right about that.”

“We are not here to argue etymology.” The captain’s voice rises a notch. She can’t stand this. She’s so to-the-point about everything. She may be short, but even I didn’t realize it was going to be this easy to take her measure.

I cut her a little slack. “ Roundabout wasn’t reported. That means it’s up for grabs.”

“Yes,” Rian allows. “But not by you.” When he sees my expression, he grins. “Perhaps if your ship hadn’t been breached, maybe you’d be our competition.”

“Maybe?!” I gasp, clutching my chest with one hand and scooping up more goop with the other.

“But as it stands, you’re just our guest, and that means you can’t...” He struggles to find the right word.

“Loot,” the captain supplies. “You can’t loot.”

“You can hire me,” I say. “I work for cheap. Just feed me and cut me some profits.”

“No,” Ursula says flatly.

“I got nothing better to do,” I assure her. “Plus, I am very good at my job.”

“No,” the captain says again. She stands, turning to Rian and ignoring me completely. “I’ll grant her refuge but nothing else.”

Oh, good. Despite delaying my rescue, she is the law-abiding sort. Not like there are many witnesses out here; she could toss me from the airlock. But I don’t think she’s seriously contemplated that option, which is refreshing. Then again, if the Halifax is a government-funded ship, which I highly suspect, there’s probably already logs of their detour and a registry online that I’m here. Killing me would mean paperwork. I swear, I’ve been saved at least four times in my life thanks to people who just didn’t want to file the damn paperwork on me.

But don’t get me wrong. I am appreciative of the captain and all her legalese. I automatically like anyone not actively trying to kill me, even if they won’t let me have some fun planetside.

“Refuge includes three square meals a day, right?” I ask.

Ursula grunts, which I take for a yes, and then she leaves, ignoring my very polite and friendly farewell.

Rian’s watching me. Man, those eyes. “I looked up your ship registry.”

I lick my spoon, making a little bit of a show of it, but he pretends not to notice. Cute.

“Surprised that clunker of yours has lasted as long as it did,” he adds.

“I can fix her, no worries,” I say.

“There’s a three-meter-wide hole in the side.”

“We all have our flaws.”

Rian snorts, clearly not sharing my optimism about Glory. “How long have you really been at this site?” he asks.

I hesitate.

“I could board your ship and examine the logs,” he says.

“By all means.” I make a grand gesture. With the cofferdam link broken, Rian would have to do the same thing I did—jump out of the airlock with a positional suit and board through the breach. Of course, he’d have a full air tank, so maybe it’s not as big a deal to him.

“I would rather you just tell me.”

“You’re going to be trouble for me,” I say, sighing romantically.

“Because I ask questions?”

“Because you ask questions with a voice like that.”

“Like what?” He looks genuinely confused.

“ I would rather you just tell me.” I try to emulate his deep voice, smooth as chocolate. Damn, when was the last time I had chocolate?

“I do not sound like that,” he deadpans.

“I know, you sound much sexier, but I’m trying. ”

“I don’t sound sexy!”

I just raise my eyebrow. Unlike before, I forget for a second that my eyes are stained red and the purple bags under them probably make me look half-dead. Then I remember and grab my spoon, stuffing more lentils into my mouth before I say something else that’s dumb.

“Anyway,” I say, “you can check the logs if you want, but I only beat the Halifax here by two days.” Like I already said once, and I don’t for a second doubt he knows that. He’s testing me, my story. But I’m not going to trip up that easy.

“Did you go down to the crash site?” he asks, all gravity. Nothing hotter than a focused man.

“Yup,” I say.

That gets a reaction. I think he expected me to lie or play around.

“What did you find?” he asks.

I shrug. “Metal. As one would expect.”

He’s silent for so long that I start eating again. I can guess what he’s thinking, though.

The Roundabout is a cargo ship. One of those big long-haulers. And it was taking a path that was out of the way, bypassing the major routes. It was a ship that didn’t want to be found.

But it also didn’t want to crash, and it did, so clearly, ships don’t always get what they want.

“A lot of cargo crates labeled with Fetor Tech stamps,” I add. “Is that what you’re looking for, tech? I don’t bother with that. I don’t have the right connections.”

Rian doesn’t answer.

I put my spoon down. “I don’t know what you guys are trying to ‘salvage,’” I say, meeting his sharp eyes. “But me? I’m a metal scavenger. And I’m good at it. And that ship wasn’t reported, so it’s free game.”

That’s a sticking point for him. If the Roundabout had something really, really important on it, then the government would have reported it off-limits. And few people would risk looting it. But that ship had been on a secret path for a reason, I’m betting. And that reason means the government sent over the Halifax rather than risk the wrong people noting it was gone.

“It’s only been crashed ten cycles,” Rian says softly. There’s something different about his eyes now, something sad. “The planet it crashed into isn’t exactly hospitable, but...”

“You’re telling me,” I snort. This planet is one of the unnamed ones. Any planet that humans can’t settle doesn’t get a fancy name, just an alphanumerical designation. And this planet? Definitely can’t be settled.

“Ten cycles isn’t long enough for...” He pauses again, and I finally get his point. “There were thirteen crew members aboard when it crashed.”

I look down at my empty tray. “I know,” I whisper. “Or I guessed. Ship that size. Had to have human crew. I stayed in the back end.”

I can tell he doesn’t know what I mean. I prop my elbows on the table and bump my fists together. “Ship like Roundabout, it wasn’t ever meant to land on a planet. Too big.” It’s a freighter, so it was built in space. Tenders brought the crew up from the planet to the ship, and it took and offloaded cargo with transport shuttles. “I don’t know what went wrong, but she got caught in that planet’s gravity. It ripped her in at least two pieces.” I pull my fists apart, letting them fall to the table with thunk s that make Rian jump. He looks down at my hands, symbolizing that there are two broken parts of the ship, separated by a decent distance.

“Our initial scans showed something like that,” he says, almost to himself.

“Your scans were right. Anyway, I stayed aft. Didn’t see any bodies. Wasn’t looking for them, though.”

Rian nods gravely. Crash like that, there wouldn’t be survivors. Just corpses.

“I did all my salvaging from the cargo hold,” I add.

“What did you take?”

“Metal,” I say, shaking my head. We already went over that.

“You didn’t look at the cargo?”

“I didn’t get a chance. It’s...” I cringe. “It’s a mess down there. Metal’s easy. I filled up my haul with the bits on the ground, didn’t even need my hover for it.”

Rian nods, thinking. But I’m not sure what angle’s caught his attention. And that? That’s what has my attention.