Finally, it is engine training time

May took her time preparing her station, turning off the music April had left playing and sliding the box of lollipops out of sight with a sigh. Pinga watched her closely, waiting for the other shoe to drop. June and April had been talkative and encouraging—May’s quiet, focused demeanor threw her off-balance.

Finally, May swiveled in her chair to face her directly.

“Right. Sorry I was late. Got stuck in the galley with the other girls,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind one ear. “But it seems April took good care of you?”

Pinga nodded. She hadn’t paid attention to the time and had no idea whether May had been late—but the smudged lipstick told its own story.

May drummed her nails—long, purple, and perfectly shaped—against her desk. The soft tapping filled the silence.

“To be honest, I’m not sure what to do with you,” she admitted. “Unlike life support, there’s no physical labor here. And if something goes wrong with the reactor, the engine just… stops. No dramatic shutdown procedures.”

Pinga nodded again, but a knot was forming in her stomach. If May didn’t find her useful, she could easily vote her off the crew. And despite the ship’s eccentricities—and its sensual atmosphere—Pinga was beginning to want to belong here.

“And the drones do all the real work anyway,” May added with a sigh, tapping her chin with one finger. “So, yeah. Bit of a puzzle.”

“Well,” Pinga began carefully, “I won’t pretend I know how a torch ship engine works. But… maybe I could learn something about the drones? I worked on mining bots back at the asteroid—might be something in common.”

May raised an eyebrow and gave her a long, assessing look.

“I doubt anything out there compares to our drones,” she said, and Pinga’s shoulders dipped. Then May smirked. “But hey—that’s not a bad idea. Let’s go over drone ops. Extremely unlikely you’ll ever need to restart them, but we can’t spend all day braiding hair. Seeing as you don’t have any.”

The jab hit home. Pinga winced. She knew she looked different—every other woman on the ship had luscious, well-maintained hair. She tried to tell herself May hadn’t meant it cruelly and swallowed her pride.

May opened a new panel on her center monitor and beckoned her closer. As Pinga stepped behind her, she couldn’t help but notice how the lacy purple bra framed the older woman’s chest, or the subtle scent of her perfume. May didn’t seem to notice—or pretended not to.

“You can track all drones remotely from here,” she explained, fingers moving quickly. “We’ve got three comms options: default microwave link, laser backup, and fiber optic hardwire at the charging ports. In other words, we have triple systems because I definitely do not want to crawl down there.”

Pinga nodded. “Yeah, I’ll pass on radiation burns too.”

May smiled faintly. She moved briskly through the displays, showing key stats and basic control functions. Pinga struggled to keep up, but May didn’t slow down—though not unkindly, just efficient.

Then May stood up suddenly, her silver heels clicking. “Oh! Almost forgot—let’s check out the workshop.”

She crossed the room, miniskirt swaying, and opened a small side door. Inside was a cramped but orderly space: a big, blocky printer surrounded by bins, tools, and hanging spare parts.

“This is Pammy—our 3D printer-slash-spare-parts genie. Feed her right, she gives you miracles.”

Pinga stepped inside, already mentally sorting the scattered tools.

“In fact,” May said, turning to her, “Pammy’s your new best friend. I’ll be at my station—read the manual, clean up, get familiar. Got it?”

“Yes, May,” Pinga replied, already mentally rolling up her sleeves. She wasn’t afraid of menial work—in fact, it felt reassuring.

Hours passed. The room smelled of plastic resin and old grease. Pinga had sorted half the bins and gotten through the first three chapters of the manual when the door opened again. May leaned in, her makeup refreshed and her expression unreadable.

She scanned the room slowly. “Huh,” she said. “You didn’t fall asleep. Impressive.”

Pinga smiled, tentative. “I figured I should earn my keep.”

“You’re doing fine, new girl,” May said with a grin. “Come on—enough for today. Go grab some food before Aslög comes looking.”

Pinga stepped out, grateful.

“And Pinga,” May added. “Thanks for putting up with me. I wasn’t on my best behavior today. Let’s get to know each other better sometime, yeah?”

“Sure, May. I’d like that,” Pinga said, surprised—and touched—by the softness in the engineer’s voice.

May smiled, then stepped in close, wrapping her arms around Pinga and hugging her tight. Their bodies pressed together—May’s warmth and curves unmistakable. Then she kissed Pinga on the lips, lingering just long enough to be unmistakable, before pulling back with a wink to the stunned girl.

“Okay, off you go.” She gave her a playful slap on the butt.

As Pinga climbed the ladder and passed the airlock, it hit her: that was the first time May had used her name.

She smiled all the way to the galley.