“Yep, completely normal flux,” Officer Remmit adds, his voice hollow inside his own cup. He doesn’t give her the courtesy of eye contact.

Captain Fallsten’s eyes bulge, and she throws her hands out forcefully. “Hardly worth—David, have you ever considered that sometimes a normal fluctuation might fester? By all means, leave the engines alone, but when we overheat and drop out in interstellar space—”

Orcher holds a hand up to stop her, and opens a comms link on his holotab. “Officer Rold, have you addressed the situation in the engine room?”

A few silent seconds later, during which Victoria crunches on her vegetables, Officer Rold replies.

“I have, sir. Slight overcompensation of power to the MRRs, but Weck and I got it balanced.”

“Thank you for the update.”

Orcher cuts the link. Captain Fallsten crosses her arms and sits farther back in her seat, keeping her back uncomfortably straight. Officer Remmit catches my eyes and smirks.

“Well, you should’ve told me.”

“I did, in the revised report,” Orcher says.

Captain Fallsten grinds her teeth together and slowly draws out her holotab. One glance at it, and her eyes narrow again.

“I didn’t see.”

Orcher flashes her a smile. “I’ll give you a call next time.”

“Please do, David.” Captain Fallsten gathers up her tray and rises from her seat. “I’ve got to adjust Havern’s schedule for tonight.”

She shoots us each a quick look and struts away, boots clicking on the floor.

“I’ve always enjoyed her company,” Officer Remmit says, watching her leave. “Nice woman. Probably great with kids. Aaron’s wife is always looking for a nanny—”

Orcher clears his throat, but Officer Remmit ignores him.

“No, seriously. It was fun. I think we’re starting to grow on her.”

“Larson.”

I look down and mash a chunk of potatoes with a clump of seasoned beans. Bleh. Needs more salt. Victoria sees me grimace and tosses a white packet at me.

“Tasty, huh?” she mutters.

Nobody else speaks for a while, and then Orcher gathers up his tray and stands. He gives us a curt nod and walks away. When he leaves the food court, Officer Remmit shakes his head.

“Always doing that to him,” he says. “Won’t be long before they get in a shouting match.”

Later in the evening, I meet Orcher in the Bridge. He wants to go over the proper structure of a report so Captain Fallsten doesn’t get worked-up again. We sit on his platform, staring at a shimmering display over his desk, when her voice reaches us from Station Control. I look over the edge: Captain Fallsten is breathing down Glacia’s neck, pointing at icons and correcting Glacia’s mistakes—loudly.

“No, this activates the thruster vents! Stop. Drag it—LEFT, LEFT!”