The passengers – Phillipa, the pastor’s wife, and their daughters, Abigail, Candace, and Felicity, as well as Little Thomas, his wife Bethany, their sons Tiny Thomas and Jacob, and their daughter, Augustine, bowed their heads.

Across the way, Captain Patek did as well. And out of the corner of her eye, Vale could spot the first mate following suit. The only three who didn’t bow their heads were Vale, Doc Diego, who was staring intently at his tortilla with his mouth twisted up in a grimace, and Fungko, who had already started eating.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of platitudes, Pastor Lorence finished.

“Amen,” he said.

“Amen,” echoed the passengers, the captain, and the first mate. Everyone began eating. Vale found it difficult to maintain an appetite. Teek had put it perfectly – they didn’t like having the passengers’ eyes on them, and Vale completely understood what they meant by that.

The Thomases always looked like they were plotting a way to start a fight with her. Phillipa was terrified of her, but masked her fear in an air of superiority. Bethany, Little Tom’s older, graying wife, squinted at her as if she could already see Vale burning in the pits of Hell. And Abigail stared at her like...well, in the vault of Vale’s memories, she had hundreds of images of kids who had been hardened by trauma, and Abigail wasn’t too far off from that mark. Jacob, Little Tom’s slender, quiet sixteen year old son, seemed to ignore her, which was fine. Abigail and Candace viewed her as a cautionary tale, thanks to their mother repeatedly using Vale as a cautionary tale. And Felicity...

Phillipa floated a tiny bit forward, ready to say something, Vale was sure, that would garner her attention. But behind her back, her youngest daughter was staring at Vale once more.

Jeez, this kid, Vale thought. She was halfway done with her meal – the sooner she was finished, the sooner she’d be able to get back to Teek with theirs. Across the way, Fungko had pushed himself away from his space between the doctor and Tiny Thomas, floating towards the food cart for seconds. Pig, Vale thought. At the same time...

It was difficult to maintain muscle mass in space, and on a spacer’s diet. And although she knew Fungko wasn’t eating to optimize performance, she’d let herself slip over the past few weeks. She reminded herself to grab an extra peanut butter pouch before bed time, and made a mental note to visit Doc Diego to have him do an analysis on her bloodwork and calorie intake. Sure, she didn’t anticipate having the types of problems that required her to be in optimal shape...but that wasn’t a reason to get lazy.

“By the way,” Phillipa said, finally breaking the relative silence in the room, “where is that squirrely little girl, the one who talks in bleeps and bloops?”

“Teek,” the captain said. “Our Chief Engineer. She- I mean, ‘they’ are working on a few important things for me. I gave them permission to eat dinner later.”

The hell you did, Vale thought, seething quietly. What a goddamn snake. I’ve got Nought harassing me to get on Teek’s case to come to dinner, and here you are-

“Important...engineering things?” Candace asked, her brown eyes widening in fear above her slightly misshapen nose. “Is something wrong? Should we really be eating dinner now or should we be getting suits on?”

Captain Patek calmed her with a wave of his hand. “Not important as in ‘imminent critical failure’,” he said. “Just the sort of routine things you do to make sure everything’s running smoothly, both now and down the line.”

“Oh,” Candace said, looking at her tortilla with its three little half-moon bites taken out of it. She seemed unconvinced.

“Mental health is just...so important,” Phillipa said, taking the tortilla out of Felicity’s hands and tearing off a few easier-to-eat pieces from it. Felicity cocked her head, looking first at her babyified dinner, then at her mother, then at the small grouping of pieces all floating together. Vale would have laughed, had she not been braced for whatever bullshit was about to come out of Phillipa’s mouth.

“I mean, imagine going through life thinking you’re more than one person in a single body,” she said, contemplating her own dinner before continuing to leave it alone, floating without a single bite in it. “It must be terrible. I’m surprised you let someone fighting such internal demons have such an important role on this ship, Captain.”

“Um...” Captain Patek said, clearly not following her. Phillipa paused in the middle of tearing off more pieces of Felicity’s dinner for her daughter, who had yet to consume any of the pieces that were already floating there in front of them.

Abigail patted the corner of her mouth with a napkin, then spoke up. “I don’t think that’s the case, Mother,” she said. At twenty-one, she was the oldest of the children in either family. She was also quite conventionally attractive, with long blonde hair that was kept up only on account of their constant free-fall in Uranus’s orbit, a wide smile, and blue eyes that, Vale hated to admit, sparkled. Her personality was sickly sweet, and she played her future role as the perfect chrisfash housewife as best as anyone could.

Vale was not a fan. But as much as they were at odds in terms of their personality, Vale had to admit that she was probably one of the best in the whole group, passengers and crew, at least when it came to genuine kindness. Even her speaking up now in her own way for Teek convinced Vale even further that she was at least a little decent – dopey, maybe, but decent.

“I just think Teek doesn’t necessarily see her-, I mean, themselves as strictly a boy, or a girl. That’s all.”

Philippa made a face. “That’s even worse.”

“I like the sounds she makes,” Felicity said, her voice quiet. “It makes me think of the Happy Robot Hour I used to watch when we would go to Aunt Geraldine’s house back home.”

“Tell them, my love,” Philippa said. For a moment, Vale tried to figure out who it was that Philippa could be addressing that way. It wasn’t until the pastor spoke that she realized it.

Oh that’s right. They’re married.

“Well, God did make Man,” the pastor said slowly, talking with his mouth full of bean paste, tomatoes, and lab-grown chicken. He swallowed. “And God did make Woman from his rib.”

He took another bite of his dinner, then wagged his finger in the air. “There’s no mention of a third category.”

“There, you see,” Philippa said, pretending not to notice the pastor’s eating habits while she turned towards Abigail in triumph.

“Yes, Mother,” Abigail said cheerily. She stared pleasantly at her tortilla, as if to take another bite, but didn’t bring it any closer to her mouth.

“I don’t know why you keep calling it a ‘she’,” Little Thomas growled from the other side of the room. He had already finished his meal, and until that moment had been eyeing Fungko at the food station, waiting for the wide cargo specialist to finish up so that Thomas could go for another round.

He belched, then scratched his stomach. “It’s very clearly a man,” he said. “I mean, not much of one at all, but a man all the same.”

“No!” Philippa said in an exaggerated way. “I don’t believe you. Wait. How can you tell?”

Little Thomas shrugged. “Women don’t know how to do electronics,” he said. “I’ve done some electrical work. It’s way too complicated for them. Men only, you know?”

Vale had seen a few people vented into space over the years without a protective suit. She took at least a little bit of pleasure in imagining what Little Thomas would look like while undergoing the same fate. From where she sat, she could see the doctor’s grimace twist up even more. She was fairly certain she could hear First Mate Nought’s teeth grinding from a few positions away. And although she wasn’t quite sure, she thought she even caught the slow swivel of Augustine’s head on her neck as she turned her sharp, hardened eyes on him.

“That’s true,” Philippa said warmly. “No, it really is. Men don’t like girls who are too smart. And they definitely don’t like women with muscles. Soft heads, soft curves, girls,” she directed towards her daughters with a tinkling laugh that would have been charming had she not just said what she did.

“I’ll tell you this,” Little Thomas said, taking a not-so-little bite of his fajita, “we wouldn’t have tolerated any of that he-she-maybe-they nonsense back in the MFers.”

Vale didn’t even need to look at the man to know that he had at least glanced in her direction after the comment, looking to see what her reaction would be. The MFers was a nickname for Mail and Fist, one of the hundreds of Christian fascist militias spread through the solar system, with various chapters on Earth, Mars, and the dozens of space stations throughout human space. They had a few notable victories early on in the religio-fascist wars of the late twenty-first century, and committed more than few wartime atrocities against the joint militaries.

Vale had seen the videos. Had even recognized a few faces of her comrades among the victims. And although Little Thomas didn’t know exactly what she had seen, it was a good guess on his part that she’d heard of Mail and Fist - and not the first time that he had bragged about being a member.

Of course, he was a member in some shitty little backwater Mars commune, never having come up against the joint militaries himself. And he’d been quick to officially recant and re-declare allegiance to the planetary government once the chrisfash had been thoroughly crushed.

Vale had read his files - both the one via official background check channels as well as the one passed to her by Lee before she stepped onboard. He was full of shit - not that she needed government resources to tell her that. But she was annoyed with herself for letting this little bitch-ass gnat, fake-ass man get under her skin with the mention.

“Maybe it’s just a way of protecting herself,” Philippa sighed. She took Felicity’s tortilla and tore off a few more pieces for her daughter to eat, ignoring the fact that there were still six or so floating in front of her, and that Felicity had ignored her work and had been taking bites out of the tortilla instead.

“Maybe she just started doubting herself as a woman, got herself all confused and mixed up-”

“I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed Chief Engineer Teek being confused by anything,” Nought said stiffly. Vale had to give the First Mate at least a little credit. Although she and Teek had never really gotten along, Nought absolutely respected the hell out of them. And although she strongly held the belief that it wasn’t her place to correct a passenger or inject herself into any conversation that wasn’t about the safe and efficient operations of the ship, it was good to see her speak up on Teek’s behalf.

“Hm,” Philippa replied, smiling to herself as if enjoying a private joke. She took a small piece off her own tortilla and contemplated it.

“That reminds me, how did your husband pass away?” she asked.

Nought frowned, confused. “I’m sorry?”

“Philippa,” Pastor Lorence said, but Philippa waved her husband off.

“Well, that must be the reason you’re out here,” Philippa said. “I mean, what husband would feel comfortable having his wife cavort among the stars with such a handsome, charming captain as our dear Patek here?”

Captain Patek raised his pouch of coffee as if toasting her.

“You must be out here to run away from your loss, you poor dear.”

Pastor Lorence cleared his throat, but didn’t say anything. Philippa didn’t even offer him a glance.

“I’ve never been married,” Nought said flatly. Philippa feigned surprise.

“But you’re so...you’re so...children, help me, what’s the word I’m looking for?”

Abigail and Candace looked away, Abigail politely, Candace more embarrassed, clearly able to see what was going on.

“Well, anyway,” Philippa continued, “I have no doubt that you could find a man who wants you. Although, of course, who could compete with the captain…”

She laughed, overly loud, but Vale swore she could still hear Nought’s teeth grinding from where she floated. She was about ready to excuse herself to bring Teek their tortilla, but all of a sudden she felt Philippa’s hand patting her arm.

“Oh, and you, dear,” Philippa said with fake concern. “It must be hard for you, with God granting you such...height...I imagine most men are intimidated.”

“Yes,” Vale said. Now it was her turn to fight to keep her annoyance out of her responses. “They are.”

“Hmm,” Philippa said, smiling sadly and nodding. She reminded Vale of a few of the therapists she had been ordered to see immediately following her separation from the military. The civilian ones. The ones who agreed to see her - because they hadn’t read the file that had been provided to them - and treated her just like some sad soul in need of emotional massage at a mental health spa.

“So lonely, you poor thing,” Philippa continued.

“Never that lonely for a dyke in the women’s barracks,” Little Thomas cracked to Tiny across the way, just barely loud enough for Vale to hear.

Oh good, thought the calmer, rational part of Vale’s mind, the part that was quickly being consumed by the part of her that had an intense need to start shit, we’re doing this.

“Well, there was someone for a bit,” Vale said. “Coy” was more of a misspelled fish to her than a way of speaking, but she did her best. “Back when I was on Springfield-6.”

The snickering between the Thomases immediately cut out.

“Did you just say you were stationed on Springfield-6?” Little Thomas said, his voice like the edge of a knife cast from ice.

“From ‘69 to ‘72,” Vale replied pleasantly. Here we go.

For a second, the room seemed to freeze. Vale unfolded her half-eaten tortilla. Just as she got it to lay flat in her hand, Little Thomas reacted.

“You fuckin’ bitch!” he yelled, immediately launching himself at her from across the room. His son, even though he was just as much of a blowhard idiot as his father, tried to grab him and restrain him. But his thick, clumsy fingers were too slow, and they barely grazed the older man’s flight suit.

Vale acted without thinking. Or rather, without needing to think. Even having been out of the military for as long as she had, she still kept up the psychocombat conditioning that had been drilled into her since childhood. Training that now bordered on reflex gave her the second she needed to read her opponent’s approach as he flew through the air towards her.

He was slow. Well, slower than her. She figured that he’d been in a few brawls back when he was younger, probably using his rugged strength to overcome his opponents. Most likely he was one of the stronger people he knew back then, a jacked up fish in a tiny, backwater pond.

Yeah, but this is the ocean, motherfucker. Vale caught the thought and released it, the way she’d been taught, not so much squashing any sense of anger or vindictiveness as allowing it to dissolve away as her training caught her up in the moment.

Her legs already tensed by the time Thomas had thrown himself at her, she pushed off from the bulkhead, arm outstretched. Thomas’s fist had been cocked as he flew - even throwing a punch like that would have likely missed in microgravity, sending him completely off-kilter. Regardless, Vale’s hand was in his face before he could react further, blinding him with a combination of beans, rice, tomatoes, and chicken, while the tortilla covered the rest of his field of view.

Roaring, he abandoned his attack, reaching up with one hand to rip the dinner off his face and rub his eyes free, while his other arm flailed about, searching for a target. The impact of Vale’s palm on his face had reversed his momentum, sending him floating upwards and backwards.

Vale reached out, grabbing him by the pantleg as she hooked her feet under one of the various footbars that could be found throughout the ship. She braced herself, pushing his feet downwards, causing him to spin slowly towards her as he flailed about.

She reached far back with her right hand, at the same time hyperextending the palm until she felt a small click as a spring in the center of her glove engaged. Then she grabbed the floating Thomas by the front of his flight suit, pulled him closer, and slapped his neck. Hard.

“Ow! Fuck!” He jerked away, but not before the pressure sensitive plunger attached to the needle in Vale’s glove pumped him full of drugs.