Miya marched down a steel corridor with glassed hatch doors adjacent to each other on both sides of the wall. The hall rumbled with busy feet as technicians and repair crews jogged from each opening entryway with long-armed droids lugging engine parts, long beams, and metal propellant canisters.

A Geque male wearing a white worker’s cap and matching-colored hex-gridded bodysuit ran to her side while carrying a blue holographic clipboard. His thick blue-scaled skin gleamed in the passing overhead lights as he squinted his almond-shaped doe eyes onto the clipboard with a gulp.

“Excuse me, Patroller Miya?” He squeaked through his parched mouth.

Miya looked over at him.

“I just wanted to ensure that this was the model ship you wanted to use before you departed.”

“Is there something wrong with my selection?”

“O-of course not,” He stammered. “It’s just that this vessel is not equipped with the latest defensive systems and artillery.”

Miya stopped and then turned to the second to last hatch door at the end of the hallway. The flashing pink and yellow lights could be seen past the windowed sides of the garage-sized entranceway.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve dealt with that. I’ll be using hangar nine. Please alert any Mal-Officers on duty.”

The technician bowed his head and then scampered off down the hall.

Miya placed her hand on the door, causing her handprint to widen and then ripple as the white forcefield collapsed and the two sides broke apart at an angle.

The middle floor of the large metal space was covered by a 14-meter space vessel. Its main body had an insect’s anatomy with a rounded-glass head, short-square thorax, and bulky abdomen with two bulbed-shaped thrusters on each side. The vessel’s black husk was embedded with jagged lines, evolving into long-sharp nacelles shielding the ship’s cargo space and bulging ship head.

Miya walked across the white-alloy landing pad, approaching a near-human male with grayish-blue skin wearing a full-white bodysuit and white cap covering his sea-green hair.

Helgen turned back and tipped his cap as Miya stepped beside him. “The Encroacher Black. A novel choice of fighter transport, especially for an officer. There are tons of other variants and better-equipped ships. Why this one?”

“None of your business.”

“Hey now,” Helgen sighed while scratching underneath his cap. “I did fix you with some neat upgrades like a higher-grade shield deflector and capped repulsors instead of those mediocre turrets. You could at least act a little grateful.”

Miya looked up at him and then scrunched her gaze. “During my first frontline war, I was stationed at a floating base above a gas planet on Foxilla-52. We were about to go on a routine check to the main terminal when the base shook. I didn’t see or hear anything. No one did. Then, a small ship like this one crashed through the wall right in front of me. Its long razors cut through my subordinate’s bodies in a straight line, severing their torsos from their heads like it was meant to be on the ground. I was next, frozen in place from its destructive power when the base began falling from the sky, and it flew away.”

Helgen uncrossed his arms.

“I never felt fear like that, even from the ships that rained down blue and red turret fire from the skies on the ground base,” Miya admitted. “Those types of ships are used to run and gun, keeping a safe distance using the sky as their advantage. The Breacher infiltrates bases and ships directly, making it personal.”

“So, you want to invoke fear into your enemies. Mesura nure, in my homeland’s language, means a monster of the skies.”

“Woah, that ship looks scary!”

Miya and Helgen turned to Orimi, looking up at the ship with widened eyes.

“Is she one of your squad mates?” Helgen asked.

“Nope. Don’t know her. Did you do the other thing I asked?”

“I sure did! Let me give you a tour of the ship.” Helgen then turned around with a smile. “You can come along too. What’s your name?”

“Orimi, but you can just call me Mimi!”

“Ah, I thought I recognized you. This is far from the stage. I hope you retain comfort in this new setting, Mimi.”

Orimi smiled and bowed her head. “Thanks so much. You don’t know how much it means for someone to say that right now.”

Helgen bowed his head and then walked around to the back of the ship. The bridge lowered into a long black ramp leading into the main cargo bay, a small 9x6 space with rounded gray walls and ambient light illuminating to the cockpit. The refurbished metals and stain-resistant fabrics gave it a refreshing new car smell.

“A fully-functional military-grade synthesizer along with a medi-pod on your left and two pull-out beds on your right. You can probably fit a small transport vehicle or two quads in this space if you’d like.”

Miya then walked through the small space leading to the cockpit. The curved-glass outlook rippled with blue lines as a holographic feed of the ship’s interface and controls virtualized. The blue-mesh pilot and co-pilot seats sat a foot from each other, able to look 270 degrees around the glass capsule.

“The chairs can rotate around each other, along with the cockpit itself. The neat part about this ship is that it has two weapon systems that can be controlled by either the co-pilot or both passengers.”

Orimi grazed her fingers along the wall. “That’s interesting! You know a lot about this stuff.”

Helgen scratched the back of his head. “Heh, yeah. I am a techy, so it would be weird if I didn’t. I can explain it to you more in detail sometime, if you want.”

“Oh, wow. Laflura. I might take you up on that.”

Miya sat in the pilot’s seat, swiping down the main interface and pressing a set of buttons. “That will be all. I’ll send you a reasonable amount of credits for doing this.”

“Ah.” Helgen crossed his arms and pinned his back to the cockpit’s wall. “I didn’t do this because I expected something. I did this because I wanted to. I simple thanks would do.”

“Then I owe you. We’ll figure out some sort of agreement later.”

Helgen sighed. “So difficult. But, hey, I’ll take it. You’re welcome.”

As he walked past Orimi, he gave her a wink and ran down the ramp to the hatch door. Orimi walked into the cockpit and sat in the co-pilot’s seat with a giggle.

“Desam jug’re. He was cute, wasn’t he? What’s the story behind you and him?”

“The only story I want to hear is why you’re sitting in my ship.”