Junebug laughed and swatted at Neil half heartedly. The pilot danced back evading the blow without effort and continuing to duck and weave dramatically. She crossed to a small side board of hand carved rosewood. The piece was very impressive, clearly old and hand carved, it would have fetched a fine price on more civilized worlds where art had more value than the merely utilitarian. She opened the cabinet and lifted out a dark green bottle with a long neck and a spherical bulb for a bottom. She pulled the cork and sniffed it, it was sharp, acrid and clearly alcoholic. She tossed the bottle to Neil who snagged it from the air with characteristic grace, then retrieve a second bottle, this one squarish with a glass stopper and took a long drink from the neck. The bottles were sufficiently fancy that she could at least hope they didn’t turn out to be furniture polish.

The afternoon was beginning to fade to evening and the first of Hahn’s three moons was rising in the west. The heat, baked into the rocks by the days sun, had yet to fade though a cool breeze was blowing now that made it seem ten degrees cooler. She started out of the elaborately arched window, watching the crowds flow back and forth, the locals seemed to be heading towards evening meals and the spacers were as chaotic as ever. She wanted another cigar even though that meant spending a cycle in the medicomp to repair her lung capacity. Perhaps once it was full dark they would go out and see what they could find.

“A lot of shit went down,” she said forthrightly turning to look at Neil who had ceased capering and was sniffing suspiciously at his own bottle. 

“You have yet to tell me the story with Saxon and Sven, and we should figure out what we are going to do with them.” Junebug didn’t doubt that they could abandon the pair on Hahn when they were ready to go but she wasn’t sure what Neil wanted to do.

“We have repairs to make on the ship and we have almost no money,” Junebug went on. She wasn’t exactly worried about that, people with weapons and the will to use them seldom went hungry, but it was something to think about.

“Then there are the Terrans and everything that happened with that,” she deliberately didn’t mention Woods or the fact that they probably had a massive bounty on their heads. She dimly regretted not launching a couple of torpedos inside the hangar of the November Sky, but there hadn’t been time to think about it at the time.

“I…” she trailed off, uncertain of how to proceed, then took a drink and forged ahead.

“I ran myself through the medicomp shortly after we got away, my cortisol and epinephrine is way up and i’ve added muscle mass. My synapses are ten percent above the last scan I had before Dar’mond too. I think the Terrans did something to me while I was in their med bay but the medicomp doesn't know what. I feel hyped up, like all the fucking time.” That wasn’t the only thing, her emotional control wasn’t as sharp as she would like, but there was no reason to worry Neil more than she had too. Shaking her head, she took another swallow of the liquor. It was way too sweet, as seemed to be the custom, maybe they could get some decent booze when they went out also.

“Goddess don’t look at me like I’m dying, I just want to tear someone’s head off slightly more than usual,” she said at the concerned look on Neil’s face. Outside came a few scattered cracks of gunfire, though it sounded more like the disorganized fun of a bunch of people with firearms than anything to worry about. Sayeeda made a dismissive gesture with the neck of her bottle.

“Staff meeting alright, we need to get our heads on right and figure out what the fuck we are doing here.”