Page 5

How Stevie kept her temper, Blythe had no idea. Stevie’s lips compressed into a thin line. “And what criteria were used to select us?”

There was a pause. Blythe folded her arms tighter over her chest. Oh, this should be good.

“Operational requirements,” the voice said at last.

Blythe snorted. Yeah, right. That answer... excuse had all the substance of a fart in a vacuum.

“So what revised window are you proposing?” Stevie asked, arching her eyebrow at Blythe.

“Departure would be delayed by approximately eighteen standard hours.”

Blythe pushed off the wall before she knew she’d moved.

Stevie met her eyes. She didn’t say a word. Didn’t need to.

“No, that’s not going to work for us,” Stevie said.

“Expedition Leader⁠—“

“No. You have a contracted departure time. My crew loaded to that schedule, and our destination authorities were notified to that schedule. We’re leaving as scheduled.”

“The station will compensate your charter party for⁠—“

Anger flashed through Stevie’s eyes. “Keep your compensation. We will be keeping our original confirmed departure slot.”

“The dockmaster department wants another safety review,” the voice said. “There is congestion in your assigned corridor and a temporary reassessment⁠—“

“Clearance number seven-four-two-nine,” Stevie cut in, calm and clipped. “Approved three days ago. Customs clearance has already been ratified.”

“Those approvals are subject to⁠—“

“Not without written notice under clause twelve of the charter agreement.” Stevie pulled up another screen. “Which I note I have not received.”

Blythe’s lips quirked at the corners. The dockmaster department really had no clue who they were dealing with. Like, really, no clue. Still, her stomach would be tied in knots until they left this damn station.

At last, the voice replied. “Following review, your original departure window will remain active. You are cleared to depart as scheduled.”

Stevie wasn’t letting them off that easily, though. “Put that clearance in writing and transmit it to my comm’s inbox now, please.”

“It has been sent.”

“Thank you.”

And she killed the comm before they could decide to take it back. Then she sagged into her chair, just a little. Enough to show the stress on her face. It made her look every bit of the mid-fifties Blythe knew her to be.

“That was close,” Stevie said.

“Too close.” Blythe glanced at the dead comms unit. “Do you think someone...?”

Stevie sighed and rubbed her hands over her face. “No, this is just corporate ridiculousness. So, you came in here like a woman on a mission. What can I do for you?”

“The pilot,” Blythe said.

Stevie smiled. “Yeah, cute, isn’t he?”

Blythe hissed through her teeth, shaking her head. “No, he’s not gonna work.”

Stevie leaned back in her chair, the ancient piece of crap creaking under her. It was like everything else on this clapped-out junker, patched together with duct tape and a bloody prayer.