Honeymoon

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“May I come aboard, Helva?”

Helva said yes without thinking because the traffic in technicians and Base officials attending to her refitting was constant. Then, she checked identity because while the voice was familiar, no technician would have couched such a formal request. Rocco, Regulus representative for Mutant Minorities, was her unexpected caller. With the easy manner of one used to the protocol of brain-brawn ships, the Double M man saluted her behind the central column and sauntered into the lounge, looking about him with interest at the choice artifacts Niall had introduced, the circuit prints and cables draped about the control console, the pattern of dust and grit leading toward her engineering and cargo compartments.

“I’ve stopped apologizing for the mess,” Helva said, “but the galley’s intact if you don’t mind serving yourself while Niall’s not here …”

“I’m here because he isn’t, Helva,” Rocco said, refusing her hospitality with a courteous gesture and seating himself facing her panel.

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