The maddening storm of hyperspace filled the forward-facing viewport in Cavalier’s galley.

  Eli stared at a bowl full of little neon green Os and eggshell white Xs. His shoulder was getting better, but it was still sore.

  One of Tarl’s bodies was chowing down on something that looked like someone had placed a helping of leftover spaghetti in a container, and it had hardened, solidifying into a cube. Gami was busy preparing a salad made from gray, pastel, and tangerine-colored leaves.

  Eli gathered up a spoonful of false letters and placed it in his mouth, “It tastes like chicken,” he said to no one in particular.

  Tarl finished chewing a big bite of the weird, orange block, “Got any jobs lined up for us, Eli?”

  “Not yet. Kirjen and Jussco aint got nothing. A broker named Chiron might have something. He’ll get back to me.”

  Gami took a seat, “The Funhouse isn’t too far. There’s sure to be work there.”

  “The Funhouse?” Eli queried, before consuming another spoonful.

  “It’s a large space station. The Funhouse is a nickname, of course. It’s an,” a slight pause while she tried to find the right word, “interesting place.”

  “We’ll head there if we need to.”

  “I’ve heard things about that place,” Tarl declared, “They say it’s pretty wild.”

  “Sounds like Vegas, or maybe Amsterdam,” Eli said with a little chuckle.

  Gami finished a bit of the oddly colored leaves, “It can get rough. We’ll have to be careful.”

  “Then I expect higher pay. More risk, equals higher rewards.”

  “We’ll have to get there first.”

  ***

  Gami approached the room that Rotek was locked in. Keeping a careful eye on the prisoner, the armored woman placed a metal tray of food and a plastic glass of juice on the floor, before sliding it through the slot and into the cell. The pirate sat on the bed and stared at her the whole time.

  Behind the helmet’s dark visor she was faceless, an instrument that happened to share a form which beings with souls often held.

  Rotek got up and walked across the room. Smirking at her captor, she tilted her head from left to right twice, her equivalent of an appreciative nod.

  Gami pointed at the stately badges that the prisoner wore, “Take those off.”

  “Why?”

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  “Because it’s stolen valor.”

  “They aint stolen. I earned ‘em! Kingdom of Moraff hired my first ship to do privateer work. And then they paid us to hunt slavers. We captured forty-four slave ships.”

  Gami walked away without saying anything else.

  ***

  “Alright, Tarl. I trust your judgement,” Eli said, “Set course and get the tools ready.”

  They were on the bridge. One of Tarl’s bodies was manning the helm. He rubbed the side of his head, which was like a nod, and retracted the cockpit.

  Gami entered the room.

  Eli nodded at her, “Just in time. Tarl found a little debris field. It looks like a frigate lost a battle. He thinks that we can find some salvage.”

  “As long as it goes better than the last time,” she said, her even tone and unseen face made it unclear how serious she was being.

  Eli chuckled anyway, “This is a much smaller field, just a scattering of blasted up ship parts. We’ll do a quick sweep and gather up anything valuable that we find.”

  “Easy,” Tarl declared, “I’ve done enough salvage work to know what to go for.”

  “I believe you,” Gami said, before leaving the room.

  ***

  Nighttime on the ship. Rotek got out of bed. She stood there naked. An urge came to wrap the blanket around herself, but she resisted it, telling herself that she didn’t care.

  She walked around her room randomly. Everything that she could see, on every spectrum, was carefully considered. She would find a way to escape. She would not go back. She would kill them all or die trying before she let that happen.

  ***

  It started as quick glints, hints of red light against the backdrop of white dots. These were reflections from a sprawling nebula. As Cavalier drew closer, the faint hints of red became twisted and mangled hunks of dead metal. The scarlet nebula loomed over this grave.

  Tarl made good use of the scanner system. The electric eye mapped out the little debris field. Prospects were discovered and marked. He maneuvered the ship to what had once been an internal subsystem, a configuration of pumps, valves, sensors, and a coil made out of a valuable metal.

  Eli, Gami, and one of Tarls butar exited one of the airlocks. Using short thruster boosts they moved into position around the piece of junk.

  Tarl lit his cutting torch and got to work. He sliced away a mounting. Nuts floated by as Eli worked to remove a pressure relief valve. Gami moved around, removing a large section of casing.

  Eli on the shared com, “Hey Tarl, you like music?”

  “Some of it is good. Kuuni chamber music is enjoyable. Some great crusade hymns came out of Neustria. Blues from Locotha. For me, it must have a deeper meaning behind it.”

  “I get ya, but I disagree. Even a silly song with bubblegum lyrics can have an effect on a person, help them get through a bad time. What about you, Gami?”

  “A bit of Zabala pop every now and then.”

  “I would have thought that you’d be into something heavy, aggressive.”

  “Not if I want to relax,” she countered.

  “Fair enough.”

  The trio picked apart a few other pieces of debris, taking the loot back to the ship and heading back out for more. Cavalier followed them around the field, always staying close. They headed into a section of the ship that was still somewhat intact, as if a compartment had been cut away. A pressure door that had once separated it from a corridor provided easy access. Once inside, they got to work disassembling the equipment recharging station that made up much of the back wall.

  “Looks like there’s still some power running through it,” Tarl stated, “Must be an energy cell that’s still attached. The local system probably got knocked out during the attack. I’ll try activating it so that I can bring up a map of the live cables.”

  “Safety first,” Eli said, shining the suit’s built-in light around the room.

  Objects floated around aimlessly. There were several holes in the wall. Perhaps they had been left when munitions had punched through the ship.

  “Okay, got it,” Tarl proclaimed.

  The overhead lights turned on. Indicators began to flash on the charger’s many ports.

  A large monitor which was mounted on one of the walls came to life. Words appeared, the letters blocky and joyless. The tadvash fed the three scavengers their meaning, “Warning! Hull breach detected! Closing blast doors!”

  The door via which they had entered the room slammed shut.