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1. The Dock Standoff
Subaru Station's docking bay.
When the Silver Anchor's hatch opened, Ledea Mace stepped onto the ramp in her lighter off-duty clothes. She smoothed her silver hair, tucked her shopping list terminal into her pocket.
Under normal circumstances, this was the moment. The exact moment when a voice from behind would materialize, warm and without delay: "Sis, where are you going? I'm coming too! Actually — let me walk ahead and guard you from any harmful eyes along the way!"
"...Shutia. I'm going shopping. Are you coming?"
She already knew the answer. Still, she turned and asked.
The response was not what she expected.
"Oh, sis." Shutia appeared in the hatch — and hesitated. "...I mean, you know I'd follow you to a black hole at the edge of the galaxy if you asked. But right now I have this, um. This thing. An important thing."
Her eyes drifted sideways in a way that had no good explanation attached to it.
"A thing." Ledea considered this. "...Are you installing something you shouldn't be, by any chance? The recorder you'd hidden in the back of the upper kitchen cabinet — I found it. I erased everything on it."
Shutia's response came from somewhere deep and immediate.
"No — no — that was my entire 'Sis Humming Unconsciously While Cooking, Winter Best-Of' archive — that was my sleep aid —"
"...So it was exactly what I assumed. Good call on erasing it."
"It's not — this isn't that kind of thing! This is genuinely maintenance-related! Ha. Ha ha ha."
The laugh was not convincing. Ledea regarded her for a moment, her brow shifting slightly, then let the thread go.
"...Understood. Mind the ship while I'm out."
She descended the ramp into the station's noise.
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2. A Mechanic's Admiration, and a Conversation About Upgrades
Hal Maintenance — a shop in the commercial district that smelled like junk parts and ambition in equal measure. Sati spotted Ledea the moment she came through the door, ponytail bouncing.
"Ledea! Hi! ...Oh — is Shutia not with you today?"
"Good afternoon, Sati. She's minding the ship today."
"She's — oh." The ponytail stilled somewhat. "That's... too bad."
The disappointment was entirely unsubtle. Since the headpat incident, Sati's feelings about Shutia had apparently grown into something that occupied a notable amount of her available emotional space.
"In any case." Ledea set her list on the counter. "I came to talk about hull reinforcement."
"Hull reinforcement! Say no more!"
They leaned over the holographic display together.
"The last salvage job came in well — we recovered a solid grade-B haul. The budget has some room. After the debris strike, I want to focus on armor and sensors. The blind spots, specifically."
"Okay — what about this new reinforced alloy plating? Heavier, but the impact resistance is outstanding. And this wide-range high-sensitivity scanner would catch incoming debris from angles the current setup misses entirely."
Technical terms filled the air between them. Ledea found herself absorbed in the conversation — Sati's knowledge was genuine, her enthusiasm without any ulterior motive, and the combination made it easy to be present. The unease about Shutia faded to background noise.
Partway through, Sati's voice changed tone.
"Um... Ledea?"
"...Yes?"
"If it's okay — could you pat my head?"
"...?" The request did not immediately resolve into meaning. "Of course. If you'd like."
Ledea reached over and patted Sati's head, carefully, the way someone would handle something they weren't entirely sure how to hold.
Sati's ponytail moved slightly with each pass.
pat... pat... pat...
"Is that enough?"
Ledea's hand had grown a little tired. Sati blinked back to herself.
"Yes! Thank you so much!"
Ledea had spent years on the receiving end of Shutia's attentions — being patted was a different proposition entirely, and she wasn't sure she understood what had just been asked of her or why.
Sati didn't explain.
At the door, she caught Ledea with one more thing.
"Oh — there's a small-ship race happening near here next week. Would you be interested? I'd love to see the Silver Anchor win it — with our parts, obviously."
"A race." Something in Ledea's expression shifted, just slightly. "...Hm. I'll think about it."
Sati watched her go.
"Ledea's headpats were nice," she said to no one in particular, "but I really want Shutia to pat me again..."
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3. Something Below, and a Labyrinth of Ribbons
While Ledea was gone, something else was happening aboard the Silver Anchor.
Shutia had shed the composed surface she wore for everyone else. In its place was something quieter and more precise — the face she kept for work that didn't have an audience.
She was working on part of the hull.
"...There."
She closed the hatch. Cleared the traces with practiced efficiency.
"Okay." The shift back to her usual register was immediate and complete. "Important work done — which means it's time for the next important work."
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What Ledea found when she returned was the bridge floor — entirely invisible under an ocean of ribbon. In the center of it, Shutia sat with her hair in disarray, eyes carrying the particular focused intensity of someone adjusting ribbon angles by the millimeter.
"...Shutia." A pause. "What are you doing."
"Sis, welcome home! Look — three hundred and twenty-four coordination options! Numbers twelve through eighteen are specifically designed to work with your bedhead, so even if you wake up and your hair is a little—"
Ledea set her shopping bag down. Breathed once, deliberately.
"...I give up. Clean all of this up. Or there's no dinner tonight."
"What?! Sis, that's not fair—!"
Beneath the station's ordinary afternoon, a sister's love and fixation continued their quiet acceleration — pointed, as always, in a direction no reasonable compass would confirm.