“That kind of climate sounds ideal!” Masgard grinned, popping a slice of steak into his bearded face. “I don’t know, I prefer gentle warmth to blistering heat. I might request a cool-suit or an implant if we’re going to be there a while.” Freyr mused, gathering up the last of her salad with her fork. Masgard downed the last of his Tullusk and yawned expansively. “I’m gonna need to take a rain check on the beach tonight though. Seventy-two hours of no sleep is catching up to me.

“What’ve you been doing for three days straight?” Freyr asked, stifling a yawn of her own.

“Oh, you know, fixing stuff for our new boss.” Masgard eyed her levelly. “I expect he’ll call us at any minute.”

“Well, I hope he can wait until morning, because I’m exhausted too. In fact, I think I'm going to retire to my quarters. Perhaps we can hit the beach together some other time, Vreta? Please don’t let us stop you investigating it tonight though.” She stood up from her bench, grabbing her tray. Masgard did the same.