Starport Lounge – Hygiene Rotation Complete
The hygiene corridor doors slide open in staggered intervals as the first rotation filters back toward the cafeteria.
JEEM steps out first, bathrobe tied loosely, bag in hand. He nods apologetically to those waiting behind him—though there is no visible irritation from them.
He secures a table in the cafeteria, robe draped loosely over his shoulders. The bag rests against the table leg. He deliberately relaxes his posture—breathing slow, shoulders down, gaze unfocused.
He looks like a man enjoying a rare moment of comfort. But his eyes continue to track. Across the room, freighter crews cycle in and out with predictable timing. No one lingers past what seems like an invisible threshold. A few glance toward him—not curious, just acknowledging the unfamiliar.
No hostility. No welcome either. Just acknowledgment.
In the Hygiene Room – Bohdie
Bohdie stands beneath the steady heat of the shower, letting the water do its work. The temperature never fluctuates—there is no individual selector, no indulgent extremes—just a precise, muscle-loosening warmth calibrated to relax without encouraging waste. It soothes without overwhelming, and when he steps back, the water shuts off cleanly, without drip or delay. Indulgence is permitted here, but only within limits. Other spacers shower nearby, never too close, their spacing deliberate as if invisible boundaries are understood and respected. There is no jostling, no crowding; the system assumes cooperation—and receives it. When he hands over his clothing for laundering, the attendant accepts them with smooth efficiency, placing a small electronic tab in his palm that hums faintly in acknowledgment. Bohdie opts for a robe instead of the neatly folded NSTC coveralls. No one comments, but he senses it is the correct choice. Coveralls would integrate him into the flow; a robe preserves distance, neutrality, and just enough separation to remain an observer rather than a participant.
He glances toward Captain Halsson—never obvious, just ensuring her space remains clear, nothing approaches nor presses. He notes that the environment is comfortable, but controlled.
Thirty Minutes Later
Time passes easily in the lounge as food trays are cleared, fresh arrivals cycle in, and freighter crews rotate toward star-town in small, measured groups. No one runs and no one drifts; the movement feels paced, almost metronomic. Exactly thirty minutes after the garments were surrendered, the electronic tabs vibrate—not softly, not aggressively, but precisely enough to be felt. Captain Halsson’s, JEEM’s, and Bohdie’s activate simultaneously, and across the room a few freighter crew members glance down at their own tabs at nearly the same moment. Laundry here does not finish early and it does not finish late; it finishes on schedule. JEEM notes that no one rushes to collect their clothing, choosing instead to finish their drink first, while Bohdie observes that no attendant calls out names or provides any visual cue. The system trusts the vibration, and compliance follows. Captain Halsson rises smoothly. "On time," she says quietly—not impressed, not surprised, simply confirming. By the time they reach the counter, the attendant is already retrieving their folded garments, cleaned and pressed, the faint shipboard scent removed and replaced with something neutral and standardized. The reset is complete.
Vorr-Kess updates and Captain Halsson pays the bill
Vorr-Kess arrives without flourish, tablet-sized holographic terminal active in one hand, its translucent display casting faint blue light across the table as he takes a seat opposite Captain Halsson and JEEM, positioning the device so Wilbur and Bohdie can see as well. The interface resembles something out of a Belter crew lounge—clean panes of layered data, time-stamped tri-vid clips, refueling manifests, docking telemetry, and biometric check-ins. He walks them through the record calmly and in exact sequence: the arrival vector of the IISS Harrier, pad assignment, Junior Administrator Silva Dominicus’ disembarkation, the logged refuel and life-support replenishment cycles, and the recorded departure trajectory. Every time-stamp aligns. Every signature is present. He answers questions directly, without defensiveness—making it clear his goal is to prevent unnecessary diversions or external interference into NSTC operations, to ensure the Azure Voyager crew receives every courtesy, and to settle payment cleanly. When he mentions accepting gold-steel coinage, Bohdie watches closely as Captain Halsson shifts seamlessly into negotiation, discussing exchange ratios and fuel metrics with the precision of a seasoned merchant captain. The agreed rate comes in slightly under standard market—enough for Bohdie to register two likely causes: NSTC’s probable in-system fuel production from outer ice bodies, and Halsson’s quiet skill at leveraging volume and timing. Payment is made. Information is complete. Halsson nods once, satisfied. "We’ll file flight plans to depart," she says evenly. "Destination: Sunda." Vorr-Kess notes with polite interest that Sunda was also the Harrier’s declared course. Halsson offers a faint smile. "I can’t tell you our business," she replies, "just as you won’t tell me yours. I’m not a shareholder—correct?" Vorr-Kess inclines his head, smiling in return. "Quite correct, Captain." The exchange ends in mutual civility—information traded, interests protected, and the next vector quietly set.
Captain Halsson closes the holographic file with a light gesture and rises from the table, smoothing the front of her uniform with unhurried composure. "I’m sure one of your aides will see to the payment arrangements," she says evenly, her tone courteous but final. "We’ll settle the account promptly. In the meantime, I have other crewmembers who should take advantage of your hospitality before we depart." Vorr-Kess stands as well, offering a polite incline of his head. "Naturally, Captain. An aide will attend to the exchange immediately. We are pleased to host the Azure Voyager." The smile remains practiced and warm, the understanding mutual: business concluded, civility maintained, and both sides already calculating their next move.
