“You didn’t want me to think you were like the other commander?” I say jokingly, but what I really want to say is, ‘I would have cherished anything from you.’

“Exactly,” he says, and I pick my fork back up.

“No chance of that,” I say before eating another bite of eggs.

He watches me finish my meal. Then he begins to eat his.

“I guess I have to talk to you now while you eat.”

“That would be nice.”

“I’ve noticed since I’ve been onboard that you’ve never left the ship except to go to the other commander’s ship.”

“Yes.”

“Then why were you in a transport the day I first met you at the farm? How did that come about?”

He looks at me seriously and then puts down his fork. “I had some business to take care of that could only be done in person on the Home Planet. An enemy set a bomb in our transport.”

“Do your enemies hate you so much?” I ask. “The government fleet just turned around when we married.”

“Some people do not like the way I have chosen to live my life,” he says. “The government is somewhat content as long as I do not get too involved in their politics.”

“But surely you were always a pirate? I assumed you were born into it, so to speak.”

My Commander picks up his fork again. “I was not always a pirate, and I am the first in my family to be one. It is a complicated history better saved for another time.”

“Wait, so your childhood was spent on the Home Planet?”

“Have you seen any children onboard?”

“No,” I realize. Then I remembered about the females returning with the children. “Did you marry me because we probably won’t be able to have children together?”

“That never crossed my mind when I offered marriage to you,” he says.

“When did you choose your profession if you are the first pirate in your family? Did something inspire you?”

“Let’s just say the profession chose me, and it turned out to be a good fit.”

“How can you fall into piracy?” I ask.

“Just like you did not decide you were a free woman, you discovered you were one day,” he counters me, and I decide to drop this. Clearly, he doesn’t want to talk about it, and it really doesn’t matter. I accepted him as he is, and what he was before or how he came to be the man he is today doesn’t bother me. Also, I don’t want him to ask me too many questions about my own past or how I came to be a volunteer. It’s not an interesting story, nor one I am proud of. Not through any fault of my own, but I’d rather not share.

“What else should we do today? Get dressed…” I stop there because I don’t know what else to do if he doesn’t want to work.

“We do not have to get dressed,” he says.