“It is possible to turn down a job, you know.” Angie leaned back in the chair, trying to stretch the kinks out of her lower back. “It’s not like we’re broke, exactly.”
“You just think it’s boring.” Valum banked the ship to the right and the ancient hydraulics complained in whistling grunts as the slings shifted under two tons of alien pilot.
“Because it is boring.” Angie leaned back far enough to brush his fluke with her fingertips. “People-cargo at least can hold a conversation, cargo-cargo is just more useless junk.”
“Junk that the consortium is willing to pay us handsomely to move from point A to point B.” Valum slipped the the ship into her berth with an unnecessary flourish that earned him a admonishing chirp from the docking computer. “Which we can use to upgrade the old mare, and maybe we’ll attract something other than the budget fares, eh?”
“I suppose.” Angie popped her chair upright and unclipped her suit from the control board. “You going for a swim?”
“I think I might.”
He sung something just at the edge of her hearing and the gravity slowly faded away, leaving him free to work loose of the pilots harness. She helped, where she could, although none of the controls were made for human hands. When he was free she triggered the pilots window and Valum swam out into space with a careful flip of his tail.
“Write when you get work!” She called after him, which earned her rude bubble of noise that the translator frantically bleeped over. Ah well, at least the space station should have someone interesting to talk to. In theory. With a sigh she twisted around to launch herself at the entrance to the docks. At least this time they wouldn’t run into Michael…