2: Tink

The Lyra shuddered as its rear slipped sideways, causing it to bump into something, presumably the pier. Tink patted the engine, grimacing at the greasy fingerprints she left on the gleaming blue housing. "It's okay, girl, you'll get some TLC soon."

She swore the ship hummed in response, and she smiled as she plucked a rag from her pocket and wiped away the grease spots. A hiccough in the fuel manifold drew her attention, barely audible over the other murmurs and whirrs of the engine room. Tipping her head to the side, she heard a faint whine from behind the axial stabilizer. A frown pulled her lips down as she listened. Picking up the torch from her workbench, she tucked it in her mouth then shimmied under the air intake to get at the offending flywheel. Once in place, she flashed the torch up. Two glowing, green eyes peered down at her.

"Grim!" Tink reached an arm between moving bits of engine to grab at the grey cat. He jumped over her hand and fled the way she'd come. Shaking her head in the confined space, she set to adjusting the flywheel, then crawled back out. Grim sat on her workbench, cleaning himself.

"Why did I take you in again?" she asked as she dusted off her jumpsuit. The cat blinked at her, then lifted his leg to scratch at his neck, rattling the bauble on his collar which did nothing to scare bugs away. Tink turned away, pulling out a stethoscope to listen to the engine. Her eyebrows drew together — there was a ping somewhere in her system. The Lyra shivered again but didn't bounce.

The ship comms crackled as it came to life, startling her, and causing Grim to hiss.

"I swear, Tink, if you don't get that engine in line, I'll space you," the disembodied voice of Captain Rebeka Mino said.

Tink snorted. "Don't worry." She gave the stabilizer a gentle rub. "She doesn't mean it." With Tink's small frame and knowledge of every nook and cranny of the ship, she knew that even if the captain were serious, her anger would burn out long before she found her. And Tink knew Rebeka Mino — under the hard exterior there was a core of iron that wouldn't do anything to endanger the crew, no matter how angry she was. That included not spacing Tink. Besides, the engine wasn't the cause of their current problems; that was Ish's flying.

Another judder shivered through the ship, and a light started blinking on the display to her left. She flicked the light with her finger. "Not again."

She sprinted towards the cargo bay. The docking ring assembly wasn't extending, and one thing a ship in port needed was an airtight seal.

Tink was giving the docking ring control panel a love tap with her wrench when the captain snuck up behind her.

"I swear...." Rebeka started, shaking her newly shaved head. The skin, recently oiled, gleamed under the lights of the cargo bay. Tink couldn't decide if she liked the look or not; it made Rebeka seem fiercer than the crown of silver-lavender curls had.

"You're not going to space me." Tink tucked the wrench into her belt.

"Not what I was going to say." Rebeka looked at the sliver of cold light growing at the top of the gangplank as it lowered into the docking assembly, then sighed with a heave of her shoulders. "One more job and I'm retiring to Avalon."

"Seriously?" Tink had known Rebeka for more than half her life, ever since the older woman had come to work on the ship Tink called home even as a child. There'd been a bit of friction in those early days — Tink looking for a mother figure she'd never really had, Rebeka refusing to play the part — but now Tink couldn't imagine the Lyra without her. She arched an eyebrow as high as it would go before continuing. "That dull, backwater planet? You're telling me you're going to become a farmer? Or worse, a farmer's wife?" Tink wrinkled her nose.

Rebeka didn't respond to the jab, keeping her gaze trained on the ramp. "About the next contract...."

"No." Tink shook her head. "He's scum and he can't be trusted."

"Just because he tried to arrange your marriage to that Antillian bugmeal salesperson doesn't mean he's scum." When Tink tipped her head down and arched an eyebrow, Rebeka rolled her eyes and continued. "Okay, he's scum and can't be trusted. But he's well-paying scum, and we need the money." The ship punctuated her words with a groan.

Tink tucked her thumbs in her toolbelt and rested her hands on her hips. "Money doesn't do us any good if Imperial Customs confiscates the ship. Or it's blown up by gangsters, pieces scattered across the galaxy...and us with it."

Rebeka graced her with one of those looks that left Tink unsure of whether she'd won the argument or not, before walking towards the ramp. It was now half-open, revealing more of the spaceport beyond – the same grime and grit of any Bowels. The light here was tinged a shade more towards green than blue. Just past the halfway point, the ramp gave an unhappy squeal. A curse echoed through the empty cargo bay from somewhere behind the large hydraulic hinge.

"When are we going to replace these things?" Ish popped his head up from the far side of the metal strut, his face smudged with grease. The ship's navigator, and her assistant in a pinch, he was also their temporary pilot. He hated the job, and didn't excel at it, as evidenced by the love taps the Lyra had given the pier as he docked her. He was most at home guiding the ship through the slipstream. When Tink had watched him at it, his brown skin glowed in the light of his incomprehensible maps of undulating colours.

The fringe of his hair fell in his eyes, and he swept it back with long fingers, smearing more grease across his forehead. Noticing his hands, he wiped them on his white tank top.

"Not until we make some money." The captain's dark brown eyes travelled from him to Tink then back. She made a face at his tank top.

Ish didn't respond. Instead, he stripped off the tank and pulled on a tunic. Scrubbing his face with the tank top, he came to stand beside Tink, placing his hand on her back. "A few days in port might be nice. Maybe we can both find some company." He graced her with a lopsided smile.

The captain frowned. "Be back here at 22:00 Zulu. We're leaving as soon as we can get a contract sorted."

Ish huffed, rolling his eyes. "I need to unwind after all that flying."

"Count me out." Tink put up her hands and stepped back, shaking her head. She knew what kind of fun Ish was looking for, and that they didn't have the same taste in men. He liked the brawny beefcakes he could wrap around his little finger; she liked her men more cerebral. "I need to get some work done."

"That's not what you need." He snorted, then threw his hands up when she made a face. "Fine. I guess I need to have fun enough for the both of us." He waggled his eyebrows at her then strode towards the exit, passing the captain.

Rebeka grabbed his collar, stopping him short. "You're not going anywhere until we interview these new recruits. One of them is the pilot you say we need."

Ish sighed. "You just experienced my docking skills. We need." His gaze shifted to the cargo bay door as the ramp hit the pier, giving the ship a jolt. The hatch on the station side slid open, and a smile spread across Ish's face. Knowing Euko Station was a pit at the bottom of a hole, Tink turned to see what had caused the change in expression: a group of men stood at the end of the ramp, with an overly muscled man at the forefront.

"The new recruits." Kandi came to stand beside Tink. Tink glanced at the Lyra's security officer-slash-medic who was dressed for port leave. A sleeveless silver halter and matching low-slung pants exposed swaths of golden skin. Her hair, currently an electric shade of pink, was pulled back, away from her high cheekbones. Blades rested against each thigh. Tink's ears still rung from the string of curses Kandi had let out on learning the new stationmaster had banned blasters in the entertainment districts of Euko Station. She struck an imposing figure, standing a good head taller than Tink, which wasn't actually saying much. With her hands on her hips, the muscles in her shoulders and biceps bulged.

"I wonder which one of those fine men is the pilot," Ish said. "Maybe I can test how skilled he is with his hands."