I clenched the fists of my avatar on missile deck 3 and sharply inhaled through the nose of that same body. My back and shoulders shifted with as much restlessness as they could while maintaining this pose. Was I really getting worked up over something like this? I called out, voice twinged with a harsh irritation. "Enlisted Guruiel, could you please not block my passageway if you have nothing to do."

At the sound of my voice, the big man started in a single step forward that brought him out of the passageway and into the shrine, his stature making the already small space even more cramped. "Apologies for that, your radiance," he said, "I was just admiring Milk's—ah, I mean, Enlisted Mirelam's work. Didn't mean to block the way."

With him out of the way of traffic I felt calm return to me. "I can't see it right now, but I like the way it feels."

Behind me a sigh of relief. "Thank your light and warmth," the woman in question said. "You made me believe I was braiding too tightly. Almost made me start over."

"N-no, it doesn't hurt at all. Please continue."

As her fingers dexterously wove locks of my hair into a tight double braid on the back of my head, I heard footsteps from the passageway that surprised me. Not because of whose they were, but because I instantly recognized them. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I had registered the gait of every one of my crew, and now I recalled this specific one because the situation demanded it.

"I think Iaram and Rushimaan are looking for you," I told Guruiel.

"Hm? Where are they?" He leaned out of the shrine without stepping back into the passageway, looked this way and that until he found them and raised a hand to get their attention. "Telomme! Roram!" He called them by their given names; a clear indication they knew each other before they were assigned among my crew. My knowledge tree informed me what supply vessel they were on before but I didn't care; neither for that specific fact, nor its unwanted intrusion.

Iaram's tread picked up and her voice echoed through the hallway, adding to the ever present drone of noise. "Void's cold knife take me. Could you not be so damn fast? I lost sight of you in a breath and a heartbeat."

"Can't help it," he said, "Long legs." With a nod of the head he gestured into the shrine. "Take a look at what Milk's doing."

Iaram swung around the corner, eyes on me and Mirelam. "Oh!" For a moment her contribution to the droning noise ceased. "That looks really good," she said after that moment. "Must be difficult to get that right."

"It's just a matter of practice," Mirelam said, shyness creeping in her voice. It did not help that a third set of staring eyes was added in the form of Rushimaan's ponderous gaze. "It's no big deal at all."

"Don't say that!" Iaram's voice erupted like a volcano in a bubbling sea. "I couldn't make hair look that good if I tried."

Guruiel laughed with the sound of a boulder rolling down a hill. "That's because you're an incorrigible tomboy, Telomme." More of that rolling boulder laugh. "You should teach her to be more feminine, Milk, or she will never head a family." With a guiding hand he shepherded Rushimaan out of the way of traffic, the silent enlisted seemingly remaining in deep thought as he did so.

"Guruiel," Iaram moaned, "A little less loutish in front of our Ship."

"It's fine," I said. "You can be as informal as you want." While they were definitely loud, the thought of everyone walking on egg shells around me filled me with dread.

"You're lucky the Ship is in a good mood, you big oaf," Iaram said with a sigh, clearly upset he had called her unfeminine.

"Oh? I think she really is in a good mood." Guruiel leaned in closer to my face as if to inspect and I flinched a little. "We're gonna need to learn how to do that braid to stay in her favor."

Was I blushing? It was hard to tell when your cheeks didn't heat up. "When your hair is long it's nice when someone else takes care of it," I told him. "Just having it brushed already feels good."

"It's a form of maintenance," Mirelam added. "One even humans can enjoy." With the attention of the others diverted her timidity started to melt away, her swift fingers finishing their task with her noticeable satisfaction. "There, I'm done! How do you like it, your radiance?"

I felt around the back of my head, small mechanical fingers running over the braid's ridges. She had even incorporated the ribbons used in my 'standard' hair style. "I can tell you did good work. Thank you, Mirelam." I gave her a smile that was possibly too cute. Nonetheless, she beamed with the self-assurance of someone who had gotten the approval of their deity. Which—I had to continuously remind myself—was actually the case.

"I used to do this for the Great Ship's avatar back in my hometown. She always appreciated it." She leaned against the bulkhead, eyes glimmering with childhood sentiment. "I got so annoyed when another kid changed her hair, but she never seemed bothered. Looking back at it now, I think she nurtured our efforts. But you know what else?"

"Hm?" I looked at her quizzically. Guruiel and Iaram did the same; only Rushimaan kept his attention on me.

"Vugni may not be human, but they're still women. And women want to look beautiful and try out different looks."

"Speak for yourself," Guruiel said, mirth of a giant in his voice, "Telomme here could learn a thing or two from you."

"Guruiel..." Iaram was starting to get really agitated with her friend.

Before Guruiel could anger her in his oblivious innocence, I interjected to distract from that outcome. "W-well, that's the advantage of having multiple avatars, right? I can try sixty different looks at the same time."

"Hah! Correct!" Guruiel bellowed. "But this braid is so cute and beautiful on you that it's worthy of your prime avatar. Milk should aim to become your captain and make it happen."

"No." Before Mirelam could protest, Rushimaan—his gaze still upon me—had finally spoken. "This is not the pinnacle of her beauty. I have seen that."

We all stared at him, dumbfounded by his words.

"Her head slightly tilted to her right, eyes still closed, the faintest flutter of her lashes just before she finally witnessed the light of life through her secondary. That was when I knew true beauty."

I remembered. It was Rushimaan who had surprised me when I enmeshed the avatar he was adjusting the cape of. Apparently that moment had meant a lot more to him than me.

He continued. "But this hairstyle is of great beauty too. It definitely must be preserved." His head jerked to Mirelam who flinched. "Milk, you must teach as many others as you can! We must make sure it remains on this avatar of missile deck 4!"

"Uhm," I stammered in protest, "This is missile deck 3."

"Doesn't matter! What matters is that we celebrate your supreme beauty in every which way we can!"

"S-supreme beauty..?" I was definitely blushing then. No question about it.

Hearing his passionate speech, others had gathered around the shrine. He raised his voice so they could hear. "Yes, Vulilognan Shissurna is the most beautiful of all Vugni!" With a flourish he gestured to Guruiel. "Guruiel Abolommen! Show them!"

"Sure sure." In a single movement the big man swooped me off my taboret and up in his arm to raise me up to less than an inch from the ceiling. I trembled and hung on to his frame, once again reminded how small my avatars were.

"Milk has honored the beauty of our Ship by granting this avatar a unique hairstyle! Let her teach us all how to do it!"

I sensed Mirelam trying to shirk out of sight, the attention proving too much. That nickname being called out loud didn't help either. Really, it wasn't her fault that her chest was so enviously endowed. Just like it wasn't my fault that my bodies—locked in immaturity—would never reach that kind of body shape.

Before I could come to her aid, Iaram spoke up. "Such devotion. You aiming to become her captain, or something?"

"And stay beside her until you reach old age like captain Zhulaimer?" Guruiel added in his boulder laugh.

Rushimaan's face betrayed amusement. "Void's cold knife take me if I ever do that. No, I plan to get out of the navy as soon as I can."

"Maybe he fancies liminal girls," Mirelam proffered. There was a hint of bitterness towards the current situation there.

"Haha! No, I hate children." His bluntness and obliviousness shoved aside the retort. "The truth is simply that she taught me the meaning of beauty."

Right then a drawer that held the pattern of a certain footfall opened up in my mind. Good timing, too. There were too many bodies holding up traffic again. "Everyone." Rushimaan, Iaram, Guruiel, Mirelam, and everyone who had gathered around turned to me. "I don't mind you all taking a break, but I think it's best if you all went back to work right now."

With barely a word the small crowd dispersed. It was good to have authority sometimes. Guruiel's group, however, remained. Mirelam was supposed to be here, but those three had just wandered in and had trouble wandering out. Which one of them did I have to poke to swiftly get them on their merry way?

"Guruiel," I tried, "Could you set me down again?"

"Certainly," he said, "Back on your taboret, or would you want to stretch your legs? Ah, not that you need that, of course."

"Either is fine." I was getting a little agitated right then. That silly question had cost them precious seconds.

Guruiel moved to set me down but I knew he was too late.

"Elanansur's horns, just what are you doing with the Ship's avatar, Enlisted? Is this what all that racket was about?" Guided ballistics officer Zhoromek Ubusal had arrived.

Under Zhoromek's oppressive gaze Guruiel's jovial nature wilted and dried up like a bouquet in the desert sun. "Sir, I, uh..."

"We were admiring her beauty, sir," Rushimaan said. I couldn't tell if he was dutifully taking the blame, or didn't take the situation seriously.

"Beauty? Are you handing me an oblong cog here, enlisted? What is your name?" This was bad. His asking for Rushimaan's name meant he was going to keep an eye on him for future infractions. Rushimaan seemed like the type to cause trouble courtesy of his laxness. If he wasn't careful enough his remaining time in the navy could end up being hell. I hoped Rushimaan realized it.

"Rushimaan Roram, sir. And if I may add, sir, I sincerely hope you didn't put her beauty into question."

I shivered. If my avatars were capable of breaking out in cold sweat I would've done so right then and there.

Zhoromek glowered at him. "Rushimaan? What sort of fool are you?"

"Officer Zhoromek." I suppressed the desire to refer to him as 'sir'. Rank was meaningless against me and I had to remind him. "Rushimaan and his friends had my blessing." This was true. By not protesting their actions I had given them tacit approval, and, surprisingly, had to admit that I even had some fun.

"You're all right with being handled like that, Ship?"

"Why, Guruiel is like a big brother to me. As are you, Zhoromek. All crew who pass through me are family." Mentioning Guruiel by name was a risk, but by using both their names without rank I attempted to pry him away from his world of unquestionable hierarchies and remind him that sometimes things like that just didn't matter.

He nodded. No, that was a bow. "Ship's judgement," he said and scanned over the enlisted with one swift motion of his head. "At ease." With no more words to say he continued on his way.

Iaram was the first to speak, deflating as soon as Zhoromek was out of earshot. "Ship Shissurna just in time to fire the victory salvo." She turned to me with a swing of her arm. I half expected her to slump down on the floor but she didn't. "Is this what serving a Young Vugni is like? Being her family?"

Guruiel silently set me down on the floor with a carefulness that I hadn't seen from him before. For the first time he seemed small and weak, barely any different from the other enlisted. "I don't really know," I said. "All I know is that I want to be good to my crew."

Rushimaan closed his eyes. "Ah, that, too, is what makes you beautiful."

"I think the sort of fool you are, Rushimaan," Mirelam said, "Is entirely unique to you."

Iaram and Guruiel burst into laughter.