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1. Fighting Spirit and the Ribbon Knot
"...All right. Thrusters, all green. Inertial control, nominal. Today is the day I prove what the Silver Anchor can do — and what I can do."
Hangar Seven, Subaru Station.
Ledea Mace ran through her pre-flight checks with an intensity that was unusual for her, pointing and confirming each reading in turn. Above her head, the ribbon Shutia had spent the previous evening selecting with bloodshot eyes — "competition grade, deep crimson, rated for G-force" — stood at sharp attention, as if it had absorbed her mood directly.
"Sis, your nostrils are flaring just a little and it's the cutest thing I've ever seen! Don't worry — when we collect the prize money, I'm converting the kitchen to a fully automated top-of-the-line model so I can manage your nutrition down to the single milligram—"
"...The prize money goes toward hull reinforcement. There's equipment the grade-B ore income hasn't covered, and if we win today—"
"But sis's health is more important than the ship! Oh — the light is hitting your profile at a divine angle right now, I'm recording this in 4K. Hold that — chin down just a little—"
"...Shutia. Anchor deployment prep before the camera. I need course support today."
"Of course, sis! My anchor work will escort you straight to the galactic throne!"
Ledea let the words wash past her. Underneath the mild exasperation, something else was running — quiet and steady, like an engine warming up. Fifteen years old, slight enough that her pilot suit still wore her more than she wore it. But the soul behind the controls had been sharpened by work, and it wanted to know where it stood among people who did this for a living.
The flame was small. It was not going out.
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2. A Gold Reunion and a Quiet Spark
The starting line ran along the station's outer perimeter, and it was crowded. Sleek new-build racers sat alongside ships that looked like they were held together by the memory of bolts. The whole scene had the quality of a jewelry box upended into the dark.
Ledea's fingers were slightly unsteady. Shutia, beside her, was updating her ongoing observational record of Ledea's expressions.
"...That ship."
Ledea's eyes had found it before she'd finished the thought — a vessel that didn't so much stand out as assault the eyes, gold-plated to a degree that qualified as a statement.
"...There she is. The woman who contaminated sis's voice with her inferior ears. The audacity to show up here—"
Shutia's gaze had gone flat and cold. The Golden Star floated in its berth, gold paint catching every available light source and apparently asking for more.
The hatch opened. Katrine descended in a flight suit that had somehow been made to look formal, spotted them, and produced the gesture of someone opening a fan — inaccessible inside a spacesuit, but the intent was clear.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite little pilot! Watch carefully — you're about to witness the Galaxy's Premier Racer claim her rightful victory!"
"Hello, Ms. Katrine. ...Thank you for your help the other day."
Ledea's courtesy was genuine and immediate. Katrine turned toward Shutia and allowed herself a small dismissive sound.
"As for the younger one — try not to drag your sister down today. That crushing devotion of yours can't be doing her career any favors."
"...Come again?" Shutia's voice had gone very quiet. "Sis's career. You want to talk about sis's career. I will take that gold-plated hull apart and donate it to the station as signage material—"
"Shutia. She helped me because I asked her to. Let it go."
Shutia let it go in the technical sense only. The thing living behind her eyes did not.
"It's fine, sis," she said, sweetly. "Let's just grind her into stardust and move on."
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3. The Laser Run
"— Countdown initiated. Three, two, one — GO!"
Dozens of small ships launched into motion at once.
The course ran along the station's exterior, bounded by laser torches whose light marked the lines. Cross a line: immediate disqualification. Deliberate contact: forbidden. Contact from cornering: racing.
"Full acceleration! Shutia — first curve, I need an anchor point, now!"
"Copy! Sis, thirty degrees right — firing behind the rock cluster!"
The Silver Anchor's frame shuddered under the load. Shutia's anchor caught the obstacle with the precision of something alive, and the ship swung through the corner at an angle that had no business being survivable.
"...Good work, Shutia!"
"It's because sis's calls are perfect! Mmh, the G-force in that turn felt like being hugged—"
"Don't say things like that while I'm flying!"
Ships fell away behind them. One overcorrected into a line and vanished from the standings. Another's engine gave out on the second straight. The field thinned quickly, and when Ledea looked ahead, the only ship still matching them was gold.
"You're persistent, I'll give you that!" Katrine's voice came through tight with effort. "But raw speed is mine on the straight!"
The Golden Star surged. Ledea watched it and did not move. She was reading something else — the slight irregularity in the course surface, the ghost of momentum from the last corner. The information assembled itself.
"...Here."
Final corner approach. She took the inside line.
The Silver Anchor and the Golden Star made contact with a sound like a struck bell, hulls grinding against each other as both ships fought for the same piece of track.
"SIS IS GOING FOR IT — crush her, grind her, take everything—!"
It was unclear whether Shutia was cheering or issuing a formal declaration. Both ships came out of the corner side by side and hit the final straight together.
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4. Evaporating Debris
The outcome looked decided.
Then:
"— output won't — it won't stop — KYAAAA—!"
Katrine's voice filled the comm channel.
In her urgency to close the gap, she'd cut the safety limiters. The Golden Star's engine, pushed past its tolerance, came apart from the inside. The starboard armor plating detached in one piece and left the ship at speed — spinning, tumbling, already outside the course boundary.
"Ms. Katrine—! ...Evasive action!"
Ledea threw the controls over. But the detached plating was already moving, a flat wall of metal closing the distance at the speed of something that had been under thrust a moment ago.
*(Can't clear it — but the reinforced hull should take a direct hit—)*
She braced.
— shwn —
An odd sound.
The metal wall was gone.
Not deflected. Not split. Gone — as if something had consumed it in the space between one moment and the next. For just an instant, a pale geometric light bloomed around the Silver Anchor's hull and vanished.
"...What."
"Oh! Lucky break, sis — looks like the welding laser output spiked to maximum by accident and burned right through it!"
Shutia was smiling. Entirely at ease. The smile of someone describing the weather.
"...I see. That... happened."
It hadn't, though. Ledea turned the explanation over and found nothing inside it. The welding laser didn't do that — not to plating that thick, not that fast. And the light—
The course boundary alarm fired.
In the time she'd spent not understanding what she'd just seen, the Silver Anchor had drifted wide. The evasion, the confusion, the moment of standing still while reality declined to explain itself — all of it had added up.
"— Silver Anchor, line violation. Disqualified."
The winner, when the standings resolved, was a quiet blue ship that had been running in fourth the entire race and apparently hadn't been distracted by anything.
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5. The Aftertaste of Defeat
Back in the dock, Ledea sat in the pilot's seat and didn't move for a while.
"...I'm frustrated. That was my mistake. The prize money — if I hadn't lost focus at that moment—"
*(But... that light. What was that—)*
The thought didn't finish. Shutia's hands settled over her head from behind, and everything became slower and warmer and harder to hold onto.
"It's okay, sis. That woman self-destructed — without that, you were ahead by a margin. You're the best pilot in the galaxy. I've recorded the official results of my personal survey."
"...I don't need consolation. Next time, I stay on the controls regardless of what happens. That's all."
"That's the spirit! And I'll support you even more perfectly. I promise."
Shutia pressed her face into Ledea's silver hair and breathed in, slow and deliberate. Her expression was soft.
Then Ledea looked up — and Shutia's eyes moved, just slightly, to the corner of the main monitor where a line of text sat in the system log.
*— Anti-matter energy field: nominal operation. Target: debris, complete molecular dissolution. Stealth maintained.*
The corner of Shutia's mouth rose by a fraction.
*(...Good. Worth installing. Sis shouldn't have to touch something that dirty. Anything that tries to damage sis's ship — I'll dissolve it. Every molecule. That's just maintenance.)*
"Sis. Next time, let's make it safer. More fun. Just the two of us."
"...It's work, not a drive." A pause. "But yes. Next time, we win. Together, Shutia."
"I love you, sis!"
The dock settled into its artificial dusk.
A slight, silver-haired girl in the pilot's seat, jaw set with something that had not finished being frustrated. Behind her, a sister whose smile held the particular quality of someone who has already decided, quietly and completely, that the rules of the universe are negotiable — provided the right person needs protecting.
The Silver Anchor rested its wings.
Waiting for the next job. Or the next thing that would need to be dissolved.