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1. A Battle for Sacred Space, or: An Unexpected Notification
A quiet afternoon on the Silver Anchor. No jobs today — an actual day off, genuinely unscheduled.
The quiet was, as always, operating under the constant threat of collapse by one very motivated younger sister.
"Sis, next try the pastel hoodie with the cat ears! The angle of the ears against your silver hair creates a parabola of perfect proportions — this is the fundamental truth of the universe—"
"Shutia. That's enough. I have no interest in changing clothes three times per hour."
Ledea Mace was deflecting her sister — who appeared to have mistaken her for a life-sized doll — with a sofa cushion deployed at close range.
Then the communication terminal on the sofa chimed.
"...A message."
"From who?! A job? Or—"
Shutia leaned over immediately to see. Ledea checked the screen and reported without particular emphasis.
"...Katrine. She's asking if we'd like to join her for tea — as thanks for the other day."
"*What.*" Shutia straightened. "When did you exchange contact information with that woman?! Kanoa I could almost understand — Asphi I could just barely — but *her*?!"
"Kanoa is not approved. ...That aside, she wants to thank us. Shall we go, Shutia?"
"We're *going*?! Sis, what if her gold-plated sensibilities are contagious? What if you come back with different taste in interior design—"
"That won't happen. Get ready."
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2. An Agonized Outfit, or: The Wrong Side of the Station
One hour later.
They stood in Pleiades Avenue — the upscale dining district in the station's inner layers, where the establishments had brass signage and strong opinions about ambient lighting.
Ledea was wearing a pale blue dress with a white bolero. This had been produced after thirty minutes of Shutia's internal conflict — "I don't want the auntie to see sis looking cute... but I can't let sis wear anything less than the best..." — resolved into a careful compromise.
Shutia herself was in a slim-line formal pantsuit. She was, by her own assessment, entirely indifferent to her appearance. Years of professional work in formal and negotiation contexts had simply made formal wear her default, and she had never thought much about it. The effect it produced — her height, her features, every passing glance caught and held — was something she remained genuinely unaware of.
"...Sis. I maintain that you belong next to me. The auntie is going to take one look at us and faint from the contrast."
"Think of her ship, Shutia. This is, in a certain sense, her natural habitat."
The establishment they entered had a brass plate beside the door reading: Café Paris Galaxy. It was the kind of place that had decided it was both old-fashioned and fashionable and had committed to both at once.
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3. A Lady in Considerable Disarray, or: An Amber Silence
Katrine de Argent was seated at the best table in the back — a position she had clearly secured in advance.
"Ohoho! I've been waiting, Ledea. ...And..."
The moment her eyes landed on Shutia, the confident smile developed a fault line. She looked away. The fan came up.
"...Sh — Shutia. How good of you to come."
(What was that. She's... subdued. The venom is just — gone. This is unsettling.)
Shutia filed this away without comment and sat down next to Ledea.
"Hello, Katrine. What a lovely place."
"W — well, naturally! I, as the galaxy's foremost lady of refinement, selected only the finest seat for your — for this — you're welcome, is what I'm saying, yes!"
The end of the sentence had not fully decided what it wanted to be. The hand holding her teacup was not entirely steady.
Three sets of beautifully presented cake and clear amber tea arrived at the table.
"Oh, these look wonderful. Shutia — this is top-quality tea. You can smell the difference."
"Yeah, sis. ...Katrine. This isn't too expensive for us to actually eat, is it? There's nothing in it?"
"Why would I put anything in it?! I simply thought, after the other day — that is — after completing the work — a gesture of thanks was — appropriate, and—"
She glanced at Shutia. Shutia's gaze came back at her directly. Katrine's face went red and she redirected her eyes to the middle distance.
"...Specifically, the EVA work, the... external... I behaved in a way that was less than ideal, and you... handled a situation that I was... in a position to handle myself, technically, but — I will not decline to acknowledge — in some capacity — that assistance occurred—"
"...Katrine, are you feeling alright? Your face is very red. Do you have a fever?"
Shutia forgot to be adversarial and leaned forward with genuine concern.
"If you're not feeling well, you should go back to the Golden Star and lie down. I don't want sis catching anything."
"There is NOTHING wrong with me! The color in my face is entirely due to the air conditioning in this establishment! Be quiet, you — you oblivious stalker little-sister-type!"
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4. A Golden Restoration, or: The Usual Nonsense
Every one of Katrine's attempts at meaningful communication had missed its mark entirely. Shutia had not registered any of it.
"...Hehe. Katrine, don't worry about Shutia in that respect. When it comes to the emotional subtleties of people who are not me, she is considerably less perceptive than a black hole."
Ledea ate her cake with the composure of someone watching a pleasant theatrical production.
"What does that mean, sis?! I have ultra-precision emotional sensors calibrated specifically for your every mood — I don't miss a single ripple—"
Katrine looked at Shutia. Looked at how completely, structurally immune she was to being perceived. The full weight of it landed.
Somewhere in the process, the flicker of feeling had completed a loop and come back to something cooler.
"...Hmph. I don't know what I was thinking. Being moved in any way by someone with this little emotional range—" She snapped the fan shut. "It was nothing. Forget it."
Whatever it had been, it was filed away. Her spine straightened. The expression reassembled itself into its usual configuration.
"Now. I am treating you today, as a special exception. But the next time we meet, my overwhelming capabilities will reduce the two of you to rubble. Ohohohoho!"
"There it is! That's the one! The auntie just isn't herself without the insufferable laugh. I feel much better now — and I'm going to order three more of these cakes while you're in a generous mood—"
"Excuse me?! The audacity — the sheer, breathtaking audacity — of this deranged little-sister creature—!"
Ledea watched the two of them ignite with the contentment of someone watching a fireplace.
"...Peaceful."
"Where?!"
"Where, exactly?!"
Café Paris Galaxy absorbed an amount of noise that was not traditionally expected of it.
Katrine's clumsy attempt at gratitude — or something adjacent to gratitude — had been processed by Shutia's structural obliviousness and returned, intact, to the form of their usual catastrophic rapport.
"...Oh, Katrine. The gold powder on this cake — is it the same material as your ship's coating?"
"Do NOT compare my vessel to a GARNISH—!"
The Silver Anchor's daily life was, today as always, loud and golden.