Cass
I ran the same file by mistake and cursed softly. I wasn't thinking about being in that room with Rennick, his gaze on my mouth so fierce, I figured he'd eat me alive, and I'd fucking love it. If Monica hadn't shown up in that doorway, I'd know exactly what he tasted like.
Stop! Getting attached to a two point six million credit problem with a pulse wasn't how I operated. No screwing Rennick. I could think about it all I liked, but those thoughts stayed in my head, and my pants stayed on.
By the time we regrouped in the galley, dawn had gone pink over the water. It was a morning that promised pretty, if you ignored four exhausted women who'd spent the night arguing with a ship that didn't want to share her secrets.
Doc dropped into the seat across from me and put her head on the counter. "We're being criminally underpaid for this."
"You said that about the Verrathi tanker." Tambi joined us, fingers stained with what looked like chocolate. There was evidence of it around her mouth, too.
"I was right about the Verrathi tanker. That bastard almost broke me."
"It broke my wrist!" Monica dropped onto the padded seat beside her and groaned. "I still smell like ship spunk."
"You should have grabbed a shower." Tambi leaned away from her. "I wish you had."
Monica shot her the finger. "I marinated this stench for you, sweetie. And it's growing on me. Maybe I could bottle it and sell it."
"What would you call it?" Doc asked.
"Space Spunk has a certain nasty zing," I said.
Doc snort laughed. "For every princess who wants to smell like she's been with an alien baddie and he's filled her holes as they raw dogged through the cosmos, breeding and humping, humping and breeding."
"I'm totally yucking that yum, you perverts. Now, if somebody doesn't feed me in the next ten minutes, I'm eating one of you," Monica said. "Cass, food. Now. Let's see what your hunk of burning alien love machine has in stock. Will he make suitable husband material by having a pantry filled with goodies?"
"He's not mine. I'm never getting married. And do it your damn self."
"Not happening. I outrank you in seniority of suffering."
I stood grudgingly. "You don't outrank anybody. You're just louder than me."
"Loud and starving, so move that gorgeous ass before I spank it."
"There's definitely chocolate." I pointed at Tambi. "Unless it's all gone."
"I saved you bitches some. Rennick has months of supplies, and all of it is quality." Tambi swiped a hand across her mouth.
I raided the cold storage, and I came up with cheese, crackers, a sourdough loaf, fresh fruit and veg, a huge crème brûlée, and a giant bar of dark chocolate studded with nuts.
Tambi got the crystal glasses out and uncorked two bottles of claret.
"Wine for breakfast!" Monica took a glass and swirled the contents.
"We deserve it. This ship is fucking spooky. The wine is a nerve settler." Tambi passed the wine around, while Doc fixed us all espressos from the fancy coffee machine in the corner.
Monica heaped a giant plate of food and pulled her screen closer. "Okay. Let's go over what we got. I have readings that match nothing in any database, and it's fucking me off."
Tambi turned her tablet around, the incident board glowing on the screen, every anomaly since the airlock time-stamped and cross-referenced. "There are no malfunction pattern matches or virus signatures, and no structural fault that explains the flickering lights, weird sounds, and stuff working without instructions."
"The power draw is weird." Monica talked around a mouthful of bread. "Whatever's pulling energy every time the lights flicker, it's not coming off the main grid."
"The bio-signal is even weirder." Doc set her handheld on the counter, screen lit. "This ship is supposed to register like every other bonded Kelvane hull. Steady baseline, small fluctuation for mood, same as a resting heart rate. This one's spiking and dropping like it can't settle on being one thing. It feels panicked."
"These ships form a mind and DNA bond with crew, but she's chased everyone away," I said. "Rennick would be gone too, but he's too damn stubborn to admit defeat."
"I don't know why she's being prickly. That's a problem." Doc downed her wine. "I've got ships' worth of data in the archive, and none of it looks like this. This baby is so broken it makes my heart hurt."
"Not broken beyond repair," Tambi said. "We will find a fix. We always do."
"I've cross-referenced every fault pattern Kelvane bioships are known for," I said. "Not one match."
"So, we've got four experts and zero theory so far. That's just our baseline. This isn't over." Tambi tapped her screen. "We need rest. Then we run a full diagnostic. Top to bottom. If this ship is hiding something, we corner it properly, tame it, then put her back together until she purrs."
Doc raised her glass. "To getting paid an obscene amount of money to be professionally confused."
Monica's grin shifted. "Speaking of confused. Cass, do you want to explain what you and Ship Daddy were doing behind closed doors, or should we all take a long, filthy guess?"
"Please make us guess." Doc laughed.
"We were sealing a containment breach." I reached for the last chunk of cheese.
"Was the breach in Rennick's pants?" Monica fluttered her lashes.
"Fuck you."
"I think you mean you want to fuck Rennick."
"He's a job!"
"He would be. You'd have to work him hard." Doc stood and thrust her hips. "Ride an alien and save a spaceship, isn't that right?"
I looked at Tambi for help, but she was smiling at her screen, shaking her head.
"I was there for the part where you two were about to eat each other's faces." Monica turned to Tambi. "Or did I imagine that?"
"I clocked it, too." Tambi didn't even glance up. "Cass, don't forget the rules."
"I'm not fucking him! I have no plans to fuck him."
"You can fuck him all you like, but screw his brains out once he's paid us in full and we know he won't come back with more work. Oh, and make sure he's left a five-star review before booting his butt out of bed."
"I have twenty credits on it happening before the diagnostic is finished tomorrow." Doc raised her hand. "Monica's got fifty on it happening before the end of the week."
"For the record, I have more faith in Cass's self-control," Tambi said. "It'll be at least ten days."
"You'll lose that bet," Monica said.
"There is no bet! Stop betting on my self-control." I flicked a crust at her. "He's a client. I don't screw clients."
"You don't fuck repeat clients," Tambi said. "None of us do. I have no issue with you ladies having a good time with one-off jobs like Rennick, just don't make it a messy time, because I'm the asshole that deals with the contracts and complaints. And I don't want some heartbroken alien sobbing at my desk because Cass won't return his calls and refuses to be her Valentine."
"You love dealing with the shit we bring you." Monica slung an arm around Tambi's shoulders. "And we love you for it even more because it means we don't have to do it."
An empty wine bottle on the counter tipped onto its side and rolled the length of the table, stopping dead against my plate.
"Um… cool," Monica said. "Very normal. I didn't just imagine that, did I?"
I set the bottle upright. "It's the ship settling. Things roll about."
"The ship is in dock. It shouldn't move," Tambi said.
"And that bottle moved uphill." Doc glanced at the counter, then back at me. "It defied Earth's gravity. There's no gravity sphere on board. It shouldn't do that."
Tambi looked at the spot where the bottle had landed, stopping in front of me. "Full diagnostic. We start in four hours. And for fuck's sake, Monica, shower before you show up."