A blush blossomed on her cheeks. “I’ve always been drawn to strong, confident people – men and women. Callie is all that. She’s been very kind to me, too, obviously. But I didn’t think she’d… and anyway, it doesn’t seem appropriate…”

“We’re in a galaxy far, far away, facing imminent death. You heard me say I love Callie. I love her so much I genuinely want her to be happy. It helps that there’s no element of sexual jealousy present in me, probably – I was spared that set of irreconcilable urges when I was created, fortunately. My fondness for Callie is purely intellectual and emotional, and as a result, I really wish she’d get laid occasionally. She was so much more cheerful when she did, even when it was just visits home in between long hauls in space.”

“She, ah, doesn’t just like men?”

“Back in the days when she had a dating profile on the Tangle, Callie identified as demisexual. She’s attracted to people she develops feelings for, whether they’re femme, butch, andro, enby, genderfluid, shifting, or otherwise. Attraction follows interest, for her. I think you interest her greatly.”

“But why? I’m basically a primitive caveperson thawed out of a glacier. Why would she be interested in me?”

“You’re willing to do anything to save your crew, Elena. You’re amazingly courageous. You’re insatiably curious. The vastness of the universe fills you with wonder. You could not be more perfectly Callie’s type.”

Elena groaned. “This is ridiculous. We’re being hunted by alien zealots who want to destroy us because we discovered their secret. But they have to get in line to kill us behind the other aliens – the ancient unknowable sadistic ones, whose station we’re about to invade, the second time around for me. This is hardly the time to think about whether I find the captain of this ship cute or not.”

“Callie is always up for a fight,” Shall said. “Sometimes she loses sight of what she’s fighting for. It would make me very happy if you could remind her.”

“Gah. OK. I’ll ask her out for a drink when all this is over.”

“I wouldn’t wait that long. Because of the likelihood of death, I mean.”

Callie knocked on her XO’s door softly.

“Come,” Stephen called.

She entered the dim cabin, second only to her own in size. Stephen was on his back in his bunk, the webbed straps holding him loosely in place. He was apparently meditating on an image of abstracted fractal flowers opening and closing, projected on his ceiling. “You’ve got the wrong cabin. Elena’s is two doors down.”

“Ha, ha.” Callie had actually almost knocked on her door, then heard voices inside: Elena talking to the ship. She’d decided not to interrupt them. “I wanted to check on you.”