They found Barix and Belix there, looking sourly through the door's small window at the meager loot they'd salvaged.
“Well, the good news is we didn't die in the attack,” Barix said as Lana followed Aiden's and Ali's example and removed her helmet. “The bad news is we didn't die for nothing.”
Ali frowned. “That phrasing of that sentence makes it sound like-”
The Ishivi swore and stalked off down the corridor, his twin sister close behind. “Meeting on the bridge in a half hour!” Aiden called after them, then turned to Lana. “I won't blame you if you want to go back to bed, we'll just be discussing if or how this attack changes our plans.”
She shook her head; if she was part of the crew now she should be there. Even if she probably wouldn't have anything useful to add.
The captain shrugged, not seeming to care. “All right, then. The meeting shouldn't take long, so you can try to power through it. Or Ali can give you some stimulants. Either way, getting some food will probably help wake you up.”
That was a good plan. Although after Lana retrieved her uniform from the airlock changing room she didn't head to the galley, but to the facilities. To relieve herself, of course, but also because in spite of the spacesuit's environmental controls she felt sweaty and gross, skin still crawling with the phantom itch of radiation even though she'd been decontaminated.
She was in the mood for a nice, long shower. Or at least as long as she was allotted for water resources.
* * * * *
Good shooting.
Aiden stared sourly at the mess in the galley. Fix's hasty patch job had made it possible to survive in the damaged space, but there wasn't much point coming here when all the food preparation equipment and half the food was gone, as well as utensils and other sundry items. They were going to have to stop and pick up supplies somewhere, and sooner rather than later.
Not “good flying”, good shooting. Because weapons are flashy, while all I did was keep us alive. It was petty, he knew, but having Lana walk right by him to congratulate the gunner, as if he was the one who'd saved everyone rather than, say, the pilot who'd outflown a nuke . . .
Well, it kind of irked him. She acted so impressed with the gunner's skill, as if he'd actually earned any of it instead of literally being born with it. Aiden had been flying most of his life, survived through countless battles, and was considered one of the best pilots in the galaxy, possibly the entire explored universe.
After everything he'd accomplished, to be upstaged by a walking automaton with DNA-encoded memories who'd never had to learn any of it, never had to sacrifice, actually kind of pissed him off.
“We could probably get away with making some minor repairs ourselves, instead of taking it to a mechanic,” Ali said. She was investigating the point of the hull breach and Fix's patch job.
“Yeah, that's what I figure.” He turned away in disgust, heading for the bridge. “Tell Fix to put this place back together once he's done decontaminating the docking bay.”
“Done,” she said after a moment's pause, even as she moved to walk beside him. Internal communicators were nice like that; she didn't even need to speak aloud when communicating over the radio, although she usually did, or at least mimicked lip movements to seem more genuinely human.
“Good, then let's get this meeting over with so we can go do our after-battle routine.”
Everyone was waiting in the bridge when they arrived, aside from Fix of course. The twins were slumped over their stations, eyes bleary as they browsed personal interests that seemed to involve scientific babble that might as well have been in an alien language for all Aiden understood it.
Probably has something to do with DNA and genetics, he thought sourly. Why couldn't the two have shown a little class and found something slightly less offensive to look at in public, like adult videos?
The gunner was seated ramrod straight at his station, as usual, showing no signs of fatigue or residual adrenaline or stress from the battle. Blasted automaton. From the looks of it, he was occupied composing an official log; the young man did like his record keeping.
As for Lana, she'd gone so far as to stretch out on the deck, head pillowed on her arms, and was fast asleep. Judging by her damp hair and fresh appearance she'd just come out of the shower; not the worst way to wake herself up, he supposed.
It took some effort not to linger for a moment staring at her lovely features, soft and serene in sleep.
“About time,” Barix groused, interrupting Aiden's contemplation as he twisted in his seat to glower at him. “Can we get this over with?”
Lana started awake at the slight man's voice, looking sheepish as everyone as everyone turned to stare at her. She hurriedly pulled herself to her feet and made her way to the terminal that was swift becoming her personal workstation, at least until Aiden assigned her one of the main ones.
He turned away from her to address everyone. “A quick survey of the galley confirms that we're down to less than a week's worth of food before we're on emergency rations. However, you know my policy about laying low after we hit a target, and I don't consider that pathetic haul we got from the pirate ship worth risking a trip to a station.”
“Laying low's going to be pretty unpleasant if we're reduced to choking down emergency rations,” Belix said, looking more put out than usual. Then again, she was probably pissed about that shipment of caviar she couldn't stop talking about, which
