“Captain buys the first drink,” Davies said, leaning forward. “But after that, we’re on our own, sprout.”

Ivan’s eyes widened as he realized he’d just acquired a nickname. He turned to glare at Robinson.

Robinson shrugged and grinned. “Sorry.”

The captain picked that moment to stand again and address the crew. “I know this isn’t your venue of choice, people. I admit to a certain sympathy. The prices would get you an entire meal at other establishments. So, I will leave you to enjoy your remaining liberty. I’ll see you all, I hope, on the Mad Astra in two days’ time.”

The crew stood, and with a final nod, the captain turned and left.

Robinson poked Ivan with an elbow. “Let’s go get our gear and get settled in. We’ll see about some entertainment later.”

Ivan nodded to Davies, who favored him with a blank look, and followed Robinson out.

* * *

The transient accommodations on Olympus Station were clean, efficient—and tiny beyond belief. This style had been around in Japan since the 20th century, and it was ideal for overnights. Ivan eyed his bunk—literally a square tube running straight into the wall. Perhaps twice shoulders-width, it consisted of a thin mattress, some slide-open storage cupboards on the walls, and a pull-down locking hatch at the front for privacy and security. The compartments were stacked three levels deep, with a narrow ladder running between the stacks to access the upper bunks. Low-intensity lighting 24/7, combined with muted autumn colors, encouraged sleep and discouraged socializing. Shared bathroom facilities, at floor level, completed the offering.

It was clean, at least. The slightest whiff of disinfectant indicated that cleaning staff was on the ball. The restrooms looked well maintained, and the paint on the walls, if not exactly bright, was at least not peeling. No rust, of course. Corrosion on a space station could be fatal. No doubt inspection and maintenance would be draconian in its thoroughness.

The Burrows, the place was called. Ivan was pretty sure it was a bad play on the word ”boroughs”, but couldn’t bring himself to care enough to ask. As a junior crew member, he found himself stuck on the top row. In the one-quarter-gee of level seventeen, it wasn’t an onerous climb, but inconvenient if you needed to use the facilities in the middle of the night. Ivan sighed, draped his backpack over his shoulder, and climbed the narrow ladder. After easing himself in, he distributed his possessions into the appropriate cubbies, pulled down the door, and closed his eyes for a moment.

* * *

Ivan jerked awake, startled by the banging on his hatch.

“You alive, sprout? Do we have to order ourselves a replacement noob?”