Sal walked along the upper floor of the plaza that the Cambiar had built into a midsection deck of Fifth Spoke, spread across three separate floors, and lit far too bright for his tired mind. The style from the food court had bled into the area around it, with sleek edges, sparse splashes of colour amidst the torrent of whites that coated all surfaces. When he asked a Cambiar who was busy covering up a more organic looking utility panel hiding in a corner about the aesthetic, they simply stated that the alien designer had picked out architecture of Earth shopping locales due to the positive memoranda within the archives.

  Of course, the people who put down those notes likely didn’t mention that all malls and megastores went out of fashion once most the world got consumed by either an authoritarian dystopian hellscape or a semi-feudal state of infighting warlords. Even global war couldn’t crack the rose-tinted glasses of humanity’s ancestors it seemed. Nevertheless, Sal’s weary mind was struggling to hold off a migraine from the bright lights, droning ambient music and bustle of the passersby. It had been a week since Xeena had displayed her ‘human-ness’ to him, and since Xin had nearly stabbed Stannock during their dinner. Thankfully, the two had made up, though only after some apologies from the knife wielding attacker and some serious kneeling from both Stannocks, both of them promising they would tone down their ‘displays of perfect design’ in public.

  Still, the forgiveness of his team did little to ease the throbbing of his mind. Sal had stayed up far too late researching the notes the human crew had put together on Cambiar biology, technology and their overall interactions so far. It would appear a lot more of the Cambiar were moving away from machine translation and learning human languages directly. The growing trend of adopting human sexes had also become apparent, with some exceptionally risqué videos of some so called ‘human-handshakes’ quickly being taken down across the intra-ship servers. Sal wanted to admonish the horny bastards trying to bone their new alien friends but couldn’t deny the way he felt after seeing some Cambiar sporting particularly voluptuous shapes. Not that he would ever admit it, of course not. That would be weird, right? Furthermore, even after closing his computer after many hours of browsing the archives, he couldn’t sleep, the incoming future weighing heavily on his shoulders.

  Before Sal had met the Cambiar and before the expedition had become something else entirely, Sal was hoping to develop a new life for himself. As much as he loathed to admit it to himself, he was willing to go his separate ways from the Torchers if he could grasp at that sense of meaning in his life. He wished to free of the reliance on others above or below him, only needing his own self of dependence to survive. Now he was in the dark, scrambling for assurances. He had a meeting with someone who he hoped would take his mind off the situation, however.

  Approaching a café, furnished with wood tables and chairs, Sal glanced around for his target. With a calm wave above his head, Titus Fornax grabbed the engineer’s attention, hands gloved as usual. Slinking between the empty seats, he made his way over, the apron wearing Cambiar behind the counter giving a cheerful greeting as he passed.

  “Good morning, Mr Vigino. You look rather tired. Drained even. You haven’t been making personal use the hospitality of our hosts, and your partner now, have you?” Titus leant forward, hands interlocked.

  Sal had attempted to drink his water and nearly did a spit take. Coughing, Sal said, “Titus, I mean sir! No, I have not been banging our hosts, sir. Why would you say that?”

  Titus sighed. Though his tone was upbeat, a smile was far from his face. “To be honest, I suspect you wouldn’t be the first to have enjoyed them beyond a simple bit of ‘interspecies friendship’. For better or worse, I cannot say. You have noticed them, haven’t you Mr Vigino? The… changes of some of them?”

  Following the analyst’s gaze, Sal saw that the alien currently manning a fleshy looking coffee grinder had a rather curvy look to them, a fact made obvious by the lack of any clothing other than the thin strip of an apron.

  “I… have, sir. In fact, my partner discussed that a bit ago.”

  “Hmm. Their cultural history, or lack thereof is incredibly fascinating, but also worrying.” Titus sipped a cup of black coffee, apparently savouring the taste with a sigh before he put it down. “I was afraid of bad actors among us, a fear that has unfortunately been confirmed following the investigation of Ruby Eye. It is not a question of if returning to Starheart is dangerous, even with any potential bombs or traps removed, it is a question of how risky it is. We’ve already pulled half a dozen smaller explosives out of maintenance, so it may be some time before all clear is given.”

  “Sir, excuse my abruptness, but why exactly did you want to speak to me?”

  “Mr Vigino, are you aware how valuable trust is?”

  “I think so sir, yes.” Where was this discussion going? Sal swallowed. “Real trust can’t be bought.”

  “And you trust your team, your Torchers?” Titus let out a soft snort, whether it was in genuine humour behind the name or disparaging dismissal, Sal couldn’t tell.

  “I do, sir. We’ve worked together for a long time, and I met Abel well before the Expedition Fleet was in its infancy.”

  “Good. Then that’s five more people I can trust. Unfortunately, you might be surprised to hear how much of a jump that is compared to my numbers before. You must have overheard my… explanation regarding our blind spot of traitors during the post-investigation meeting, correct?”

  “Yes. Captain Curtain effectively pocketed your analysis teams?”

  “As much as it hurts me to say, yes. I thought I had developed a stronger bond with them beyond mere finances, but you can see where their values laid in the end. The truth is that by losing my information squads, I am blind to any incoming attacks. What I need right now, more than ever, is people I can trust. Can I trust you, Mr Vigino?”

  The officer locked eyes with Sal, pupils intense and his jaw clenched. It was as if the man sitting before him was controlling every muscle in his face to remain as still as possible.

  “Well, you can certainly trust me not to attack the crew.” Sal tried laughing, but Titus made no movements. “W-what I mean is that I’m no traitor. But, sir, I still think you’ve got the wrong man. I am just a regular superviso- “

  “No, you aren’t. I’ve read your record, Sal. From before H&H. Not many could go through what you did and come out as you are today.”

  Damnit, first Thomas and now Titus. How many people had delved into his past, intentionally or not? Sal turned away, sneering. He needed something for this wretched head of his. Raising a hand, he got the barista’s attention. Titus snapped forward and gripped his wrist.

  “Sir?” Sal asked, an edge to his tone.

  “Don’t get any milk,” Titus said releasing his hand, and cringing slightly. “Made that mistake earlier.”

  “What? Oh.” Sal loosened up. True to his superior’s word, he saw no fridge for milk behind the counter, and there was only one possible milk dispenser in the café. The alien stretched back, pushing their large breasts from beyond the boundaries of thin strip of cloth, revealing nipples, before seeing Sal.

  The cheerful and incredibly large chested barista bounced over, and joyfully took Sal’s order before retreating. Christ that apron did little to cover her body, and especially her huge chest. Did these aliens decide to take all of humanity’s fun parts but forget to include clothing with it? Well-endowed Cambiar gone, and coffee thoroughly without breast milk, the pair continued.

  “Look, sir, thank you. I appreciate it. If you genuinely want me to help, I will do my best. I just think there’s other people that could do more.”

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “Mr Vigino, it’s not always about who can do more, or who can do it faster. Sometimes, it’s about who’s got the best heart for the job. Take Elijah for example. He’s a great manager and knows his crew well. And yet, would he be suited for an information position, collecting data from people around him? Unlikely. He is as brash as a bull, and twice as stubborn. Elijah would rather beat a man down the second he starts talking about terrorism or sabotage rather than following him for leads. And yet, I still support him. Hell, he’s watching a group right now. If the alarms go off in the outer top-side decks sometime in the next few hours, then I will know he’s stirred up some trouble. Yet, I would rather have him do it than a top agent I used to know, because no matter what, Elijah’s heart will be in the task. Regardless of how well or poorly he may do, I know that his intentions will be in line with mine. That is what matters.”

  “I… think I understand, sir. I can’t say I have skills in that sort of field, but I will do my best to help. I’m an engineer, not some secret agent, so don’t expect too much.”

  “Mr Vigino, please.” Titus shook his head. “I don’t expect you to spy for me, just to keep me in the loop when things go wrong. I fear Curtin is losing his grip. When he falls, he will bring many good people down with him.”

  Sal’s coffee arrived, rich and bitter. Quaffing it down as if he were stranded in a desert, the immediate effect of the drink started to sooth his aching skull.

  “Well, he wasn’t exactly calm last I saw.” Sal shrugged.

  “You’re right, and I don’t say that as the target of his ire. This expedition has become a mess. The planet is a no-go; the tectonics are bad enough that we cannot make any sort of long-term colony down there. The only choice for H&H is to pull back the fleet, I feel. That sort of pressure would make any man go mad.”

  Titus pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up. They had slid down as he inspected the way the barista swayed their rear back and forth during smoothie preparation. When Sal noticed his leering, the analyst just shrugged. Shit, Sal had already checked her out, so who was he to judge?

  “Staying on topic,” Titus suppressed a chuckle, “you likely picked out Curtin’s reluctance to act without H&H’s direct say so.”

  “Yeah. Still no message from home base?”

  Titus winced slightly. “There have been complications. Security aside, the matter of getting H&H’s required staff out here may take some time. They are slow to act on a good day, let alone for such a huge event so far out of CCH space.”

  “You don’t sound like the biggest fan of their leadership at the moment. Haven’t you been with them a while?”

  “Oh yes, Mr Vigino, that would be an understatement. I’ve seen them through thick and thin. Do you know why, Senior Supervisor?”

  “I take it you get paid out the ass?” Sal took a moment to remember he was speaking to a much higher-ranking crewmate and clicked his teeth in annoyance at himself. “I mean, they compensate you quite well, sir?”

  Titus didn’t smile but he did appear to appraise Sal with renewed worth. Perhaps friendly banter was hard for Fornax to receive from such a high-ranking position.

  “That is true, but not the heart of the matter. I work for H&H instead of the other corporations because I feel they are doing the most to expand humanity’s horizons and to support their people. Though this… situation has been eye opening, I still feel they try to serve most of mankind’s general interests with satisfactory results. Did you know I used to serve in the security wing, Mr Vigino? Executive protection.”

  Titus removed his glasses to slide contacts lenses from his eyes. When he raised his head, Sal saw two round scanners where his eyeballs had once been, glowing red dots fixated on him. Swallowing slowly, Sal’s image of Titus had quickly shifted. He had judged Titus poorly; this was no pencil pushing corporate pushover. Almost as if his earwax had been drained, Sal could hear the tiny whining of servos and motors every time Titus shifted. Was the man more than flesh below his suit?

  Gesturing to his eyes, he said, “Lost them in a particularly nasty job.” Titus placed his contacts and glasses back into place. “Lost most of my body before then, but a Doctrine clan by the name of Hideki’s Mercy rained down hell on a particularly important board member. I saved their life, but it took some of the last parts of my original body I had. After that, I no longer fancied the risks and moved to the Expedition Fleet, taking some of my team with me. I did learn some major lessons from my time protecting H&H’s finest, and trust was the most important one.”

  Titus drained the last of his coffee. “I do understand that trust is a two-way street. I cannot ask you to help me without any respect in return. So, I wish to let you know one thing. And this is truly vital intelligence. Even Curtin is uncertain of this yet.”

  Still reeling slightly from the fact that the stuffy corporate body he had slightly pegged as bland as starch flakes had actually served one of the most dangerous jobs in CCH space. Sal couldn’t stop himself from tapping his knee. “Um, sure. I’m all ears. But, I have to ask, why tell me this, sir?”

  “Frankly, Mr Vigino, I’m tired of having no one to talk to. Despite appearances, I am still human. Maybe. So, here goes. Simply put, Josiah Dexter himself put those stolen goreskins and mechs in our cargo. My understanding is that he is so desperate to protect the next colony he can establish that he is willing to sacrifice all goodwill with the other conglomerates. His paper trail was rather extensive and poorly covered up. It would appear that our dear CEO was doing some poor business on the side, and in doing so exposed our crew to infiltrators.”

  “Wait, the traitors who planted the bombs – you think they boarded as a result of the contraband? From Dexter?”

  “Not on purpose, but yes, I’m sure of it. If the rest of the CCH hears that not only has Dexter been stealing their mechanized armour, but also acquiring goreskins, likely through making deals with Doctrine clans who were either growing their own or stealing them in turn from Paradise, it will be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. I’m not sure if you’ve read the quarterly reports, Mr Vigino?”

  “I… try to, sir?”

  “Don’t bother. The numbers are all faked. H&H is abyssally deep in the red. The Seventh Expedition Fleet wasn’t just the last chance for a decent paycheck for you, I presume, but it is the last opportunity for H&H to even consider recovering.”

  Sal thought over this line of thought. Would that mean returning to CCH space would be a dead end? What if the Cambiar could help them? Would they want to? Sal shook his head to dispel the thoughts – there was nothing he could do to change how the corporate suits would deal with the situation.

  “Here’s another tidbit, and as an engineer I think you’ll enjoy this. It’s the Cambiar’s FTL technology.”

  Sal tried not to gape his mouth at that. “Go on.”

  “Most Cambiar don’t even understand it, they just trust their pilots get them from one spot to the other. Firstly, there’s no S-Drive involved.” Checking his watch, Titus stood. It was time for him to leave. “It doesn’t use quantum waveform collapse and reformation, so no QIS stabilization is required. It’s space folding technology - wormholes. I’m sure you’ve seen speculated models, but in our case the issue was always power. The Cambiar have bypassed the energy requirement by drawing energy straight from local stars. Not sure on the full mechanics, but you can imagine that if they have access to alternate forms of FTL, there’s plenty more we can learn from them.”

  Sal’s mind was already trying to wrap around the potential aftermath of additional FTL methods being available. S-Warps could travel far, and had relatively low energy costs considering their effectiveness, but left the crew disoriented sometime after the jump and were risky in the case of QIS disassociation. Smaller crews could try using a computer to simulate the usage of a Keeper, but those weren’t entirely reliable. Otherwise, having one or more Keepers was the only way to keep a moderate sized crew alive. Knowing what he did now about Keepers, Sal felt a pang in his stomach at the scale of how many people must be forced into the role, unable to help themselves. If a human faction had access to both wormholes and Schrodinger engines, they could move fast, and strike without being put at a disadvantage, and not necessarily rely on Keepers all the time. However, this brought another consideration to Sal’s mind.

  “Titus, one last thing, sir.” Sal asked.

  “Yes, Mr Vigino?” The analyst adjusted his tie, clearing his throat.

  “Are you… aware of how Keepers are made? You talked about H&H supporting their people so, I’m guessing you weren’t aware.” Sal hoped he wasn’t putting his faith in the wrong man. Thomas would be at great risk if he was miscalculating. However, for all the officer’s talk of trust, Sal felt he had to offer some back.

  “Excuse me? Is there something I should know? What do you…” Titus paused, then widened his eyes. Sal wasn’t sure if he was about to get quietly assassinated for a few moments as the officer looked into the distance, thinking hard.

  “There’s something I should know, isn’t there? Never mind, I can assume there’s more to them. Your infrared readings just lit up with stress indicators. I can look into it.” He stopped to look over the engineer for a few more seconds before nodding. “Ah, I see. You are putting your trust in me as well. I thank you, Senior Supervisor.”

  Giving another deep nod, Titus said his farewells and departed, ogling the curvaceous Cambiar’s rear one last time.

  Sitting there in the replication of a coffee shop, the original likely having long since been turned to ash, and with the last of the dregs of his coffee staring back at him, Sal considered the longer-term consequences of what the Cambiar would bring to humankind. Not only would an additional form of faster than light travel potentially enflame the war between Paradise, Heaven’s Doctrine and the Collective Corporations of Humanity, should the CCH decide to directly compete with the others, but Fifth Spoke had clearly shown some of the capabilities of their manufacturing capabilities. Would that be enough to bring H&H out of its apparent death spiral?

  Moreover, what would Sal do when the time came for a decision regarding H&H? Could he stand by them, now knowing what he did about the Keepers? What would be the price that Sal’s values would buckle under?