Gin was quiet for a moment before answering. “I really wanted children.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Find a nice guy, settle down on a civilian planet, have a couple of kids. Maybe four or five.”

Maren laughed. “Four or five? I’d go crazy.”

“Shut up. Children are adorable.” Gin poked Maren’s arm. “You can dress them up in really cute clothes and tiny shoes and hats and cook them pancakes in the shape of smiley faces and take them to the park on Sundays… yeah, I guess I really wanted some of my own.” A mischievous smile spread over her face. “I guess we have the opposite problem. I spent too much time on my career, you didn’t spend enough.”

Maren laughed then tilted her head back to look at Saul upside down. “What about you? Did you want kids?”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, okay. Anything you regret?”

“No,” he said, leaving Maren with the distinct impression that he was lying. They sat in silence for another minute before Saul spoke again. “I can’t get you back to your home planet, but I can give you something else.”

“Hmm?”

“As of now, I’m officially resigned from the defence technician post. As the only other qualified crew member on the station, that role now belongs to you. Congratulations.”

Maren stared at him then felt a huge grin spread over her face. It was a meaningless position now that they were trapped, but the thoughtfulness touched her deeply, and she blinked back tears. “Wow. Thanks, Saul.”

“Hmm.” He closed his eyes again, but she thought she saw the corners of his mouth twitch up.

They sat in silence for a long time, sharing a bag of gummy sweets and water. After an hour of the silence, Gin got up and started pacing the room while Saul slept and Maren watched the screens. It was mind-numbingly dull, and Maren had started to drift off when a siren made her jump. The screen in the corner of the room had turned red and was counting down from two hours and fifteen minutes.

Maren clambered to her feet and stretched. Her muscles had become stiff, but at least the aches were easing.

“Wish there was a way to let the rays into the station,” Gin said from where she was perched on the billiard table near the back of the room. “I bet it would fry them up real good.”

“Yeah.” Maren flashed a smile at her friend, who returned it wearily.

Gin’s eyes were rimmed with red, and her cheeks were missing their healthy pink flush. Maren tried to remember the last time Gin had slept properly. It must have been at least a day—Gin’s shift had been nearing its end when the communications system had broken, and she’d had nothing but stress since then. “Hey, grab a blanket, find a quiet corner, and get some sleep.”

“No, I’m good,” Gin said, making her smile a little larger to demonstrate.

“Really, you need sleep. We’ve got to watch the screens in shifts, anyway, so you may as well rest while I’m awake.”