She sounded wistful, full of longing. Perhaps he should have gotten Leta on the line after all.

“We’d probably go out to some sketchy dump of a bar,” Corra went on, smiling sadly. “Cy would be too scared to talk to any girl there. Leta and Fiear would argue loudly to mask their shameless flirting. We’d all get drunk. And I’d probably get laid.”

As he sat down beside her, Finn snorted into his drink. Corra swung her eyes at him.

“What?” she demanded.

“Nothin’. You just make it sound so romantic,” he said sarcastically.

Corra frowned at him. “Romance is all well and good for other people. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll take a good love story any day, but for me? No way. Too messy. I like simplicity.” She shrugged and raised her glass to her lips, but it paused an inch away as revelation crossed her expression. “God, it’s been ages since I last got laid.” In despair, she dropped her face into her free hand. “No wonder I’m so tense.” When Finn chuckled, she cast him a sharp look. “I mean it. Ages, Riley.” Drama filled her voice. “Ages.”

“No, no, that’s a serious problem,” Finn agreed heartily. “I just find that hard to believe. You?” He nodded at her in appreciation. “Not getting laid … “

“Well, according to you, I’m a captain now. I don’t have time to just mess around,” she chided, waving him off like he was being absurd. “And I, unlike Fiearius, am making a vow not to fool around with my crew.”

Finn made a noise of agreement. “Very admirable, captain,” he said and tilted his glass toward his lips, letting the bourbon scald his throat. Perhaps it was the liquor, perhaps it was the long exhausting day that had taken a toll on him — but suddenly Finn found himself saying boldly, “You know what though. Technically, I’m not crew.”

Corra lowered his glass to gaze at him. She looked, more than anything, curious.

“And,” Finn went on slowly, “I’m not really sure what the captain-and-captain protocol is on this ship yet. So … “

A long silence lapsed between them. Well, that was stupid, Finn couldn’t help but think and he was about to retract the comment as a joke when Corra tilted her head to the side. Slowly, a smirk spread over her face. “Are you flirting with me, Riley?”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

An hour later, after the sheen of sweat cooled his skin, Finn released a long sigh out of his bare chest and folded the palms of his hand behind his neck. He lay flat on his back on the dining room table, gazing up at the ceiling with a tired, happy sort of pride — in his humble opinion, they’d found the perfect way to turn this night around.

Beside him, he could feel Corra smirking. Hell, what a weird 24 hours, he thought to himself. He certainly hadn’t expected the night to end this way and he doubted Corra did, either.

“Hey, so … thanks,” she sighed, lifting herself up on an elbow. Her free hand strayed to his hair, smoothing it back, making him grin lazily. “I think I really needed that.”

“Ah, anytime,” he replied absently, as if he’d just bought her a case of beer. After a moment, he amended, “Really, anytime at all,” more pointedly, a grin spreading over his face as he enjoyed the sight of all her bare skin.

Rolling her eyes, Corra sat up and reached for her shirt, which had been tossed across the table, and pulled it on over her head. Taking his cue — he was probably overstaying his welcome now — Finn shifted his feet to the floor and started to gather his clothes. He seized a cigarette out of his jacket pocket and stuck it in his mouth.

“So … we’re okay, right?” said Corra suddenly from her spot on the edge of the table. She looked hesitant. “You know, to…eh…overlook this? Not mention it to our loving and devoted crew? Or Fiearius, or … anyone?”

Finn almost replied normally, but he could not help himself.

“Oh-o, I see what this is now,” he said, his tone muffled from the cigarette. He was full of good-natured accusation. “Your service boy, that what I am? Is that all? Fly the ship, show up in you room? Well now I just feel all cheap-like and dirty.”

Corra smirked. “That sounds about right, yeah.”

If there was any seriousness at all in his tone, it was extinguished the moment he grinned broadly at her. Reaching for the rest of his clothes (his shirt in particular had made it halfway across the room), he tugged it on over his chest and pulled on his shoes and then breathed a sigh.

“Nah, I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry about it. We’re probably going to have to deal with situations a hell of a lot weirder than this, don’t ya think? I mean, definitely wish I could go brag to the all the deckhands right now … and I sure love upsetting Fiear …. but cross my heart, I’ll restrain myself,” he assured her, regarding her in amusement for a moment.

Then, holding his jacket in one hand, he started to cross toward the exit, but not before pausing to lean in toward the table to kiss her briefly on the lips. It was chaste and polite, a clear end-note that lasted only a moment before he went to the door and called plainly, ”Night, cap’n,” over his shoulder.

“Yes, for her sake,” said Callahan coldly. “I was willing to overcome my inhibitions of allowing a kroppie to represent me at all, but now I sincerely regret that decision. You, your employees and your actions on their behalf all reflect on me, do you understand that? And on all accounts, I am ashamed — “

He went on, but Finn tuned him out, watching as Corra suddenly pushed herself to her feet and fled the bridge.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

When Finn knocked on the double-doors to Corra’s quarters some twenty minutes later, he did not expect an answer, although he was certain she was inside. He waited a beat, and then opened the door himself and slipped inside.

The captain quarter’s on the Beacon were quite extravagant. A bedroom, a dining area, a lounge and full kitchen. His eyes scanned over the sleek bookcases and furniture. The space appeared empty.

And then he noticed her. Corra sat on the rug against the wall, knees pulled to her chest. She was not crying in this moment but she clearly had been; her face was clouded and she was eyeing him with a reddened, glassy gaze.

Talkative as he was, no words came to him. Resisting the urge to bolt back into the hallway, he crossed through the room and slowly lowered to sit cross-legged beside her shoulder.

Silence hung between them. He wanted to ask if she was alright, but clearly she was not.

At last, in a stuffed, hoarse voice, Corra said, “I didn’t think Callahan knew.” Her fingers gingerly played with the crop of her ear.

“Ah.” Finn waved a lazy hand in the air, then dropped his wrist on his knee. “He’s past it. Angry, but that’s not your fault at all. It’s mine and Mica’s. ‘Sides, Callahan isn’t dropping us or anything; I smoothed it over already.”

He thought this would help matters, but Corra let out a watery, bitter laugh.

“Of course you did. Of course you fixed it already. You’re actually qualified for this job.”

Finn would have liked to accept the compliment and agree, but he glanced sideways and saw fresh tears filling her eyes. So instead he said, firmly, “No I’m not. I’m not at all qualified. I got kicked out of military school, remember? I don’t have a pilot’s license and I’ve definitely never captained a ship before.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she moaned. “You have it down. All the jobs you choose go well, the crew respects you, the clients respect you, the Beacon itself respects you. Doesn’t matter if you don’t have a degree or experience, you’re meant for this. Me?” She snorted. “Mica’s right. I’m just a dumb kroppie playing make-believe on a spaceship.” Finn winced at the word, but Corra didn’t notice. She simply concluded, “I never should have left the Dionysian. This was a huge mistake.”

“Hardly. Getting off that death trap was probably the best thing you’ve ever done.”

“But everything has gone so badly,” Corra breathed wondrously. “Ever since I boarded this ship. We barely have any money. We can’t string two jobs together. None of our clients  think I’m worth anything and they’re right. I have no idea how we’ll afford to grow our crew, build our client base, any of it. I don’t want to be captain. I don’t deserve to be captain.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it though?” she snapped, finally looking up at him with watery eyes. “You’re not stupid, Riley. You know as well as I do how unqualified I am. I give up. The captainship is yours, entirely. I’ll just go back to being a gunhand like I’m supposed to.”  She dropped her head back into her knees and her voice became garbled by tears. “At least then no one will question me. It’s a fitting task for someone of my status.”

Finn regarded a spot on the floor. Mostly, he wanted her to stop crying. Please stop crying. Fleetingly, he considered suggesting reaching Leta on the Dionysian — she’d be better at this, right? More equipped? As her best friend?

But then a second later, just when he’d made a longing glance toward the COMM device in the wall, he looked away and inwardly scolded himself for being a cowardly jackass. Still pulling the same old shit, aren’t you, he thought, almost laughing sadly. The urge to leave when things got serious was always there and probably always would be which was why, according to Elsa, he’d never have a real meaningful relationship ….

This time, he managed to stifle that impulse to bolt or keep things light and stupid.

“Here’s the thing,” he stated quietly, surprising even himself, “that I realized only very recently. Everyone’s faking it. No one knows what they’re doing. Everyone. Fiearius. Me. Everybody. No one has their shit together.”

He heard her sniffle at his side and draw in a shaky breath. Carefully, she peered up at him from beneath the shield of her hair. Recognizing a window of opportunity, he went on, “I’m serious. Everyone out here is just frantically grasping at straws hoping that something works out. Praying for that one break that’ll separate them from success and failure. What makes the difference is the act. The lie.” His hand reached out to grasp her shoulder in comfort. “You’re doing fine at this. You just have to convince yourself, first.”

With that, Finn pushed himself to his feet and crossed to the stocked captain’s liquor cabinet across the room.

He picked through the collection and seized the fanciest, most expensive-looking bottle he could find — it had a brilliant gold label, surely that meant something — and turned around, nabbing two glasses with him.

“Bourbon,” he muttered, lifting the bottle and flashing its shining label. “I think that’s what this is, I can’t read this language … actually, not even sure what language this is … but it’s fitting for any decent captain.”

He handed her the glass and lowered to sit beside her again. “Drink,” he ordered and tentatively, she sipped the liquor. And then she coughed harshly, seized with disgust. He almost laughed, but he had a feeling they had not quite made it to the other side of this conversation yet.

“Look,” he muttered, his tone lowering with significance. “For what it’s worth. I’ve been on a lot of ships and worked with a lot of captains. But I’m really fucking glad it’s your ship I’m on.”

“Our ship, you mean,” Corra corrected quietly, the lightest touch of humor in her face. It faded as she shook her head. “I just — miss when things were easy. I miss the Dionysian. I miss Leta and Cy.” She sipped her drink for a few seconds and breathed out shakily. “You know what we’d be doing right now, if we were on the Dionysian? We’d be celebrating. Celebrating a job well done. Well — things never went well on the Dionysian. But we did alright.”

Truth be told, she would have much rather just disappeared with Callahan’s ship than do this job. Something about it just wasn’t sitting right with her and hadn’t been ever since they’d agreed to take the assignment. Perhaps it was the notion of smuggling such large, valuable cargo across volatile Ellegian borders. Or perhaps it was the deal location itself, a high profile, high population metropolis that teemed with possibility of disaster. But in all likelihood it was neither of those things that had been keeping her up at night with worry. It was more likely the man who’d given them the job, halfway across the span by now. Callahan himself. The way he’d acted towards her, the manner in which he’d disregarded her. She could still hear his biting tone even now and it made the pit of discomfort in her stomach throb.

Apparently Addy had noticed. “Hey,” she said suddenly, putting her hand on Corra’s shoulder. “You okay? You went all quiet there.”

At once, Corra shook it off. “I’m fine,” she assured her. “Just a little worried about this job is all.”

“You think it won’t go well?”

No, Corra thought instinctively. But she said, “I’m sure it will.”

“Of course it will,” Addy said. “And it’s not like you’ll be alone. No matter what happens, if anyone can handle it, it’s Finn.”

Right, thought Corra, feeling bitter. Finn could handle anything. Everything she couldn’t.

Did Addy think her incapable, too?

Corra just forced a chuckle, agreed, “Hope so,” and continued through the bay towards where Finn and Daelen were lingering near the Beacon’s airlock. Finn was leaning against the doorframe, a plume of smoke rising above his head. A foul smell reached her nose and she pulled a face.

“Are you smoking?” she demanded. “That’s disgusting.”

“That’s why I’m doing it outside,” said Finn dramatically, swiping the cigarette out of his mouth and sticking his hand out the door.

She turned on Daelen. “You’re a doctor, shouldn’t you tell him not to do that?”

“He has,” Finn promised, grinning.

Daelen shrugged at her with his arms crossed. “There are only so many times I can argue with people’s personal decisions to ignore good advice.”

Corra glared at Finn a moment longer. Then she asked, “So how was the inspection?”

Finn sighed out a wisp of smoke. “Well Mica’s guys came here, they looked her over,” he gestured towards the shining black ship parked inconspicuously in the Beacon’s bay, “and they left. So I’m guessin’ everything checks out and the deal’s still on.” He took one last drag, and then tossed his cigarette out the door. “Mica said he’d meet us at his nightclub. You ready to go?”

Corra took a deep breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she grumbled.

– – – – – – – – – – – –

The club was called Heat, at the furthest end of the strip under a glowing white neon sign. A hanging velvet rope circled around the entrance, a detail Corra found cute as she stepped over it and walked straight past the bouncer.

Inside, electric red light doused the dance floor. Booths lined the walls, and in the heart of the room was an elevated stage, filled with dancing women and men. Corra honestly wasn’t sure, judging both by their state of dress, if they were patrons or strippers. It was hard to tell in this town.

“Classy joint,” said Corra, over the noise.

Finn smirked. “C’mon, that’s him in the corner there.”

The furthest booth was dark, quiet and and rimmed with thick red curtains, no doubt for under-the-table business meetings just like this one. Men and women in various states of dress sat around the table. In the middle of them was Mica himself, in a cheap-looking suit, lounging back with one arm hanging casually over a woman at his side.

He looked to be in his late-thirties, with a sunken gaunt face and short trimmed beard, which he grinned through as they approached the table. “About time you two showed up,” he said smoothly. He nodded toward the crowded stage. “Thought perhaps  you were just enjoying the dancing.”

In a neutral voice, Finn said, “Not when business calls, unfortunately,” and sat down. Humming with anticipation, Corra reeled in her nerves and calmly lowered to the seat beside him.

“So you know why we’re here then?” she asked in an even tone.

“Naturally,” Mica agreed, flicking a dull glance in her direction. “Callahan told me you’re his newest hires.”

“S’right,” said Finn, his voice impossibly relaxed, like they were meeting new friends for brunch. “Finnegan Riley, and this is Corra, captains of the Beacon.”

“Captains?” Mica repeated in disbelief. “That so?”

Corra could not help but notice that Mica shot her a particularly amused look. One of her fists balled under the table. “That’s right,” she said, keeping her voice calm. “Captains. Captains with a rather busy schedule, so maybe let’s get started?”

Mica’s lips curled. He did not bother to introduce anyone else at the table. “Yes. I suppose you’re right. Let’s cut through it, shall we?” He looked at Finn. “It’s my understanding you have quite the deal for me. Tell me about Callahan’s ship.”

“Sure. Although you know a lot about it already,” said Finn at once, one eyebrow shooting higher on his forehead. “Your people came poking around to check it an hour ago.”

Mica’s smirk broadened. “Well, you don’t expect me to go into this deal blindly, do you? Now — tell me what I don’t already know. Why, exactly, is it worth my money?”