Innerspace blossomed in a spill of vibrant Blue-green marbling. Faint tides drifted across the void, which was lit from a thousand sources and none at all, the empty environment glowing with a life that fell in complete opposition to the cold nothingness of Realmspace.

  The Sister's momentum continued on, flying away from the veil, the tear we had made already sealing behind us.

  I watched a shoal of dragonflies flit around an asteroid field, distant enough that their chitinous bodies were glittering blurs.

  I inhaled slowly. Even through the environmental bubble around the Silent Sister the air had a sharpness that Realm air lacked.

  I sat for a while longer, I often came to spend time with Beala, some of my earliest memories were sitting with her as she sifted through aerographic charts; the complicated markings making as much to child me as they did current me.

  Relaxed now that we were in Innerspace, I realised how tired I felt. I groaned as I stood, the small chair trying to keep a hold of me.

  Beala smiled, her cheeks creasing in warm lines, waving me off when I made my goodbyes. I left her room with the dirtied dishes, A sense of calm in my movements. I had always enjoyed her company, and I got along better with her then many of the Sister's crewmates. And she hadn't complained about the state of my clothes. She was a saint.

  I made my way down into the hull, making a pitstop at the dishpit. My room was at the start of a hall of dorms, with a scuffed door that I had carved my name into in a fit of teenage rebellion- a fit that was ended when I had a conversation with Captain who was worked up enough to give me nightmares for a week.

  I eased open the door. A habit from my last bunkmate, a constantly irate fellow with a thick accent and a thicker mohawk. I hadn't enjoyed his time on the Sister, and I hadn't enjoyed his departure; smacked off the side and into the maw of a Cragwurm.

  I waved a hand to activate the lights, the soft glow illuminating just enough space to workout, a desk which held my few possessions I don't carry with me, and two bunks set into the far wall. Moving with the slowness of a good meal in my stomach I stripped off my boots, sand pouring onto the floor. I scowled and tossed them to a corner. Verak liked me so much it had decided to come with. I caught myself in the small mirror I had hung on the wall. My hair was a mess. I ran my hands through a couple times, trying to flatten the wispy flares sticking every which way, but I only succeeded in shoving grit under my fingernails.

  Okay. Lets do this. I stripped off my Duster and piled it onto the bottom bunk- my ex-bunkmate couldn't really mind- My scarf and outer shirt followed. Then I unstrapped my pistol holster and lay it beside my clothes. My inner compression shirt came off, and I discovered the sand had made its way inside, drying along sweat trails to form stiff webbing across my chest.

  I mopped it off as best I could with my shirt, but it held on, especially to the puckered scars across my wrists and chest. After a moment of hesitation I took off my goggles as well, momentarily disoriented by the loss of their comfortable tension; my eyes were small and tired, overshadowed by the dark creases where my goggles always sat.

  Giving it up as a losing battle, I tapped my feet until grains stopped sifting out of my socks, then climbed into the top bunk. Despite the need for sleep that had driven me, it did not come quickly. I shifted about for a while, but found no easy relief. Bored, I powered on my PIC and flicked through the info pages.

  Thanks to my age they were basic- stats, a blank slot for my class, and base skills. I scanned them for the thousandth time, but I knew what they said. Without class skills there wasn't much else to focus on. I couldn't wait for my coming of age. The next trip to Verak would go smoother once I chose my class, though I couldn't think of a choice that would make that dustball bearable. At least nothing the system would let me pick from with my experience.

  I sighed, and dropped my arm. I had tried to level my skills and stats as much as I could before I received my class, but until I chose my class and activated my core, everything took agonizingly long to level.

  The sheets were cool on my skin and despite the itchy feeling on my scalp, I managed to relax, until eventually sleep came to me.

  ~~~~~~~~~

  I pulled myself from my bunk early the next morning, my muscles sore and shrugged on my stiff clothes.

  I tried again to fix my hair in the mirror, replacing my goggles when I grew tired of seeing my own eyes.

  I slotted my holster back against my side, but paused and pulled out my pistol. It was an ugly thing, the base a modeled off of a revolver, with a fat, short barrel, a cracked focus core and a long ivory grip with grotesque little figures carved into it; the grip I had badgered Sneezer into adding once the original had become painfully small in my hand.

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  I had dubbed the cobbled together thing 'Flashpan' in my early teens and the name had stuck. Despite its construction which made it look like an ugly drake with an underbite, I had kept it in fine working order. I shook it and sand drifted from a half-dozen weld lines. I was hungry but breakfast would have to wait.

  I set down the repurposed toothbrush and examined Flashpan through the magnified lenses of my goggles. Finding an acceptable lack of grit, I stowed away my tools and reholstered Flashpan. I stood and my stomach twinged. I had put off breakfast for long enough.

  ~~~~~~~~~

  I opened the door to see the faces of my two least favourite crewmates poking out of the room across the hall. I considered bailing back to my bunk, but my hunger was stronger then my reluctance.

  They came out of their room, lounging against the hallway in padded jumpers under leather harnesses. There names were Drax and Drey; twins Noboro had hired on to help with security. They were scions of some warrior race from the center of Innerspace, with white hair and skin that was marbled red and white like sweet candy.

  Drax was the older, from what I had gathered. He didn't care for me, and I didn't care for him. We could have had fine lives doing our own work whilst ignoring the other. Unfortunately, Drey hated me for some reason. When I came out, He advanced on me, a smirk on his streaked lips. "Morning Jax. How was Verak? I can see you got some sand in your… everything." He grinned like he had told an applause worthy joke.

  I grinned at him, "I feel like a new man. I had been planning to stop at a spa next time on shore leave, but I think the sand did a good enough job."

  Dray's smile dropped, and he stuffed his long-fingered hands into his pockets. He stared at me for a while, then he jerked his head at his brother,"Come on, I am starving, and I want to eat before Dusty makes a mess." He laughed as he left, his brother following silently.

  Despite my urge to go back to bed I followed them up to the messhall, a rectangular room with long bare tables. I took a bowl of warm grain from Kon, and sat in the corner away from the twins. They already had their food. Drax was eating slowly with a thoughtful expression, his gaze centered a foot up and to the left from his brother's face. Dray chattered away, not knowing, or not caring that his brother was ignoring him. I couldn't make out enough to understand what he was talking about, but I certainly heard my name come up.

  Despite my later arrival I was done first. I returned my bowl to Kon, and left the meal hall. I had planned on a trip to the deck for some fresh air, but I was pulled off course by a message.

  Beala and the Captain must have decided on a course. I took the stairs at a hard pace, the Captain had never looked kindly on tardyness, and while I had been afforded slack as I grew, the closer I got to my coming of age, the Captain had become stricter then I had ever known him.

  I was one of the first to the bridge. The window that stretched across the front was wide open, the view past the shield bubble that acted as a window was nearly as breathtaking as the one from Beala's balcony. I couldn't see as much of the sky, but the sight along the deck, following the converging point of the hull, gave me a sense of standing on an edge, a single order from the Captain all that was needed to send us rocketing through Innerspace.

  Speaking of Beala, she was already there, sitting at the large table that took up the center of the room. an old, map, half as creased as her face, was laid out, each little quadrant filled out in her cramped notations.

  I said hello, but expected the distracted wave I received. She was absorbed in her work, having now brought out a set of small metal tweezer-looking tools. I couldn't remember their name or function- Beala had tried to teach me about Navigation before, give me another option for a class, but I had never been able to grasp much of the subject.

  I turned to the throne set into the back wall, a lacquered curved thing that looked like an ornate piece of driftwood. Maysillee's physical form sat in it; one hand resting on the arm of the throne, the other loose in her lap. Her head canted slightly to the side, her blank gaze and slack jaw half-obscured by the long black hair cascading from underneath the nest of limbs that made up the wooden circlet that twisted around her scalp.

  "Sup' Maysille?"

  "Hello Jax. Good Morning." Her mouth didn't move and her throat didn't so much as twitch. Instead the voice came echoing from the walls, cool and professional. While on the throne Maysillee drove the Silent Sister. I could drive the Secrecy, But it was like trying to lead a drake calf with only your mind. Maysillee was the Silent Sister. She held perfect domain over the Sister, and she knew the ship better than anyone who only walked her halls.

  The crew filtered in quickly, Noboro, the twins in lockstep behind him. I smiled at that. If he already had them in formation, maybe he could do something about Dray's attitude. I wouldn't hold out hope though.

  ~~~~~~~~~

  I was watching Kon-still wearing his apron with a hundred pockets-gingerly settle his scarred shell into a seat, when Maysillee spoke again.

  "Jax, to your seat."

  I raised an eyebrow at that. A response formed on my lips-something something everyone's a stickler, then I heard the hard crack of heavy boots, and the quiet hiss of augmented breath, that Maysillee had probably been tracking from his quarters to here.

  I dashed to my seat, slamming my butt in a chair as the door opened and the Captain of the Silent Sister swept into the room.