“Uh, okay,” Marce said, and then paused. “No, hold on. I’m confused.”

“You’ve had sex before, yes?” Marce nodded. “With women?” He nodded again. “And you liked it.”

“Yes—”

“Then what’s to be confused about?” she asked, coming up to him.

“I don’t think you actually like me,” Marce said.

“I like you just fine.” She grabbed his waistband, and worked the uniform tab there.

“You were willing to give me up to the pirates if you had to. Ten minutes ago.”

“Yes. And?”

“You tell me to shut the fuck up nearly every time we talk.”

“I tell everyone that.”

“I mean—”

“Look, we’ve both had a stressful day,” Kiva said, and pulled down his uniform trousers. “Now, you could stand around trying to talk to me about all the things that didn’t happen, in which case I toss your ass out and you go back to your tiny bunk and smell your own farts until you fall asleep, or you can shut the fuck up, get naked with me, and then we bang each other until we collapse from exhaustion. It’s your choice, but if I were you I know what I would rather do. So, are we going to fuck or what?”

“This is your idea of romance, isn’t it?” Marce asked Kiva.

“Basically,” Kiva said, and then dragged him onto the bed.

A few hours later, as Marce dozed with Kiva nestled up against him, a long mellow ping reverberated throughout the ship.

“Hmmmm,” Kiva said and opened up her eyes.

“What was that?” Marce asked.

“It’s the signal that we’ve entered the Flow.”

“So we’re safe.”

“Nothing is safe in the Flow. If our bubble collapses, we cease to exist.”

“I mean we don’t have to worry about pirates or Ghreni Nohamapetan,” Marce said. He was aware of Kiva’s body next to his and felt an erection pop up almost instantly.

Kiva felt it too and shifted her body on top of his, reached down to position Marce where she wanted him, and then pushed herself onto him. “No, you don’t have to worry about pirates, or the fucking Nohamapetans,” she said, working herself on him. “You might have to worry about me, though.”

Marce smiled at this. “If this is what I have to worry about, I think I can handle it.”

“This isn’t what you have to worry about.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about whatever it is that Ghreni Nohamapetan was fucking willing to kill you over, Marce.”

“Wait,” Marce said. “Are we having an actual conversation? Now?” He started to prop himself up.