There’s enough pilots to send out more—the fighters don’t mind
going on short mapping jaunts, it’s sitting around the station all
day doing nothing that wears them down—but we’re out of navigators.
All crews need a navigator, it’s space law, and we only have two
left on the ship. One of them is Dixon’s own who stays up on the
bridge most days, I don’t think I’ve seen her in weeks.
The other is me.
I’m a tech but I have nav training and I’m
licensed, which pisses Dixon off to no end, I’m sure. He threw that
up in my face when I asked to be transferred to Dylan’s crew. “He
already has a navigator,” he told me. I said send me as a tech
then, and he laughed. “And if something happens to one of my crews?
If I needanother navigator out there? What do I say, so
sorry, he’s out with his boyfriend, check back later? I don’t think
so.”
Around us the lights dim and the stars on
the screen seem to burn brighter. Dixon looks at me when he says,