Every five seconds, a nerve in Lauren Kutyna's right shoulder sent a jolt of pain up her neck, reminding her of her foolishness. It was a rhythm she could have synchronised her breathing to, if only her anger hadn't prevented it.

Stupidity got you hurt—a luxury she couldn't afford. It got you trapped in the waiting room of Faraday Station's most expensive orthopaedic clinic, waiting for a pharmacist to confirm her painkillers' prescription. And for an ex Astra Corps lieutenant turned private investigator, it was a liability. She'd already lost one career to the bastards in charge; she wasn't about to lose this one to a moment of carelessness.

Only the best for her particular brand of self-inflicted idiocy. At her age, she'd thought she'd finally learnt wisdom, but clearly not enough.

'I wish my husband, Anton, were here. He could explain it so much better. I can't think…' The slurred voice from the discharge desk was pitched for privacy, but the clinic's silence was a perfect conductor.

The receptionist smiled sympathetically. 'Your husband said you haven't seemed yourself lately and have become quite clumsy. If you want, I'll organise for a repeat prescription of your current medications?'

Lauren's gaze lifted from a swirling pastel artwork on the wall, settling on the woman at the desk. She was impeccably dressed in a cream-coloured suit, her long red hair styled in a severe but elegant knot. She held herself like a bird trying not to be noticed, nodding her acquiescence to the suggestion. The only thing out of place was the faint, bluish shadow of a bruise high on her cheekbone, so skilfully blended with makeup that Lauren almost missed it.

Almost.

Recognition followed a half-second later. 'Yadira? Yadira Tanaka?'

The woman looked over, frowning in confusion before recognition set in. She smiled. 'Lauren Kutyna. I can't believe it. What are you even doing here?'

Two decades dissolved, replaced by the memory of high school and the two of them suspended in the zero-g gym. They had been partners on the gymnastics team. Even now, Lauren felt the faint prick of jealousy. Yadira had been so talented. She had treated gravity like a personal rival to be defeated, and her doting, if strict parents had enabled it. Extra coaching. The best medical care for that one time she got injured when Lauren misjudged the gap. Yadira was a machine who could balance on a pinhead in high wind. Her parents didn't want her participating in the team competitions after that. She was their only child—their princess—they didn't want her to be hurt.

Lauren wondered what Yadira's parents would think now. Their daughter might be as well dressed and polite as usual, but she was confused and slurring her words as though she was drunk, and it wasn't even ten in the morning. They'd probably be appalled.

Lauren forced a smile, gesturing vaguely with her good arm. 'Just some lingering stupidity', she said, deflecting the question. 'What about you?'

A nervous tremor touched Yadira's lips. Her gaze dropped to the floor. 'Oh, me? Just clumsy. Tripped over a loose floor panel at home. You know how it is.'

Really? A loose floor panel.

Lauren made a mental note about the floor panels on Faraday Station becoming aggressive. She'd have to watch her step.

A buzz vibrated against her wrist, and her wristcomm displayed a single line: Prescription ready for collection, and a bot approached her to dispense the painkiller phial. 'Right. I'm done here. You headed out?'

The other woman hesitated. 'Yes, I was just leaving', Yadira said, falling into step beside her.

The clinic doors slid open, revealing the chaotic life of the station's main concourse. A thousand conversations blended into a single roar, punctuated by the whir of service drones and the distant chime of an arriving transport. Through the transparent panels, the blue and white curve of Earth hung like a marble ball against black velvet.

A man detached himself from the flow of the crowd, making his way towards them. He was in his early forties, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a dark suit that emphasised his muscles. A charismatic smile spread across his handsome face as he stopped before them, his left hand in his pocket. 'There you are, darling.'

Yadira's posture straightened, the fragile stillness replaced by a practised brightness, but panic lingered in her eyes. 'Anton, this is Lauren Kutyna. We were on the zero-g gymnastics team together in high school.' Then, gazing at Lauren, she added, 'This is my husband.'

'A pleasure.' He extended a hand to Lauren, his grip firm.

'The pleasure is mine.'

Up close, strands of grey cut through the brown at his temples. But it was his eyes that held her attention. As he spoke, they remained cold and watchful. 'Any friend of my wife's is a friend of mine.' He then turned his full attention to Yadira. 'I was starting to worry.' He placed a hand on her arm, a gesture that looked supportive to any passerby.

But Lauren was standing right there. His fingers tightened, digging into the muscle of Yadira's biceps until the fabric of her sleeve strained.

Yadira's eyes widened before her features tightened, as if fighting to suppress a wince. 'Everything's fine, Anton. Lauren and I were just catching up.'

The man's grip didn't loosen. He steered her away into the river of people. 'A real pleasure to meet you, Ms Kutyna,' he said over his shoulder, his charming smile never faltering, and they were swallowed by the concourse.

Charming, like a viper.

The memory of a girl who moved with impossible freedom felt like a bitter joke. A master of balance, now tripping over a loose floor panel.

Lauren's good hand clenched into a fist, turning her knuckles white. The dull throb in her shoulder was gone, burnt away by fury.

'Hey. You okay? You look like you're about to kill someone.' Jack Kalakopulos's voice, unexpectedly close, cut through her thoughts and made her flinch.

The lanky hacker, who'd bolted onto her ship eleven months ago running from criminals and had simply never left, wore the usual collection of mismatched synthetics, and a datapad was tucked under his arm like a permanent extension of his body.

'I'm fine', she said.

The words were a lie, but Jack, perceptive enough not to push, nodded. 'Right. Well, the pharmacy bot flagged that your prescription was ready. Figured I'd meet you.'

Lauren walked away without specifying a direction at a brisk pace, forcing Jack to fall into step beside her.

'Get me everything you can on a man named Anton. Husband of Yadira Tanaka.'

Jack didn't ask why. He just tapped his datapad, his fingers already flying across the screen. 'On it.'