“Say that again, and slower, please,” Captain Rachel Garland asked. “You need what?”

Tikva shook her head at her friend’s request, though the action was hidden from sight at present by the towel over her head.

She stood in the middle of the actual lounge in her quarters. Not a common space, or a ‘main room’, but an actual lounge. Large floor to ceiling windows, even if the ceiling was another deck up thanks to the open space afforded commanders of Odyssey-class starships. A collection of couches, one of which separated the space into two, with the other hosting an eight-seat dining table.

One wall was even set aside purely for a ridiculously large monitor, casting Rachel’s face to far larger proportions then it ever would be, save for that story she told about an incident on Pircel II. Where Tikva was in her private quarters, more an apartment, Rachel was sitting in her ready room for this call. Where Rachel was in uniform, Tivka was stripping out of a wet suit while trying to dry her hair and get the last vestiges of water out of her ears.

“I said,” Tikva said from under the towel, fighting with stubborn water in her right ear, “I want Perseus here in the Cor system as quick as you can.”

She waited for a response. Just as Rachel would be doing as well. Both ships were just far enough apart — this part of the Expanse unsullied by an array of repeaters as of yet — that subspace traffic even across just a few dozen lightyears, was suffering a small but noticeable delay, only held back by both ships having vast and impressive subspace communications systems built into them.

The silence crept on beyond the delay and Tikva removed the towel to check the monitor, seeing Rachel grinning, holding up both hands and extending a finger with each passing second. Another second passed, a finger raised, before the grin grew further.

“Bitch.”

“Was wondering how long you’d keep going before making sure I hadn’t hung up on you.”

“You know I’m a commodore now, right? Best not to antagonise the brass, yeah?”

“I’m just helping keep you down to size, Bug,” Rachel answered. “We just finished patching up Bismarck and have sent them back to DS47 for a proper once over by the yardies there. Torres is diverting Osiris to meet them about half-way and see them the rest of the way. Give my people a few hours to put all the tools away we used for repairs, and I’ll have Perseus winging its way to you.”

“Good. You’ll like the Cordemi I think. Solitary bunch, but they seem open to talking with us. Well, they seem more open to talking to some of us, I should say.”

“Not enjoying your swims, I take it?” Rachel asked.

“Two overly excited dolphins happy to get off the ship and a race of pseudo-octopi certainly make me, and the diplomatic team aboard, feel a bit,” Tikva groaned before she said the following words, “out of our depths.”

“Couldn’t think of something else?”

“When I thought of it, I just had to share the pain,” Tikva answered, continuing with her hair with one hand while reaching for the zip on her back with the other. “You’ve got an actual whale aboard Perseus who I know is diplomatically trained, so I’m happy to hand over outreach efforts to you. And the Cordemi are happy to have you, so long as Canopus departs soon after your arrival.”

“And you know we’ve industrial replicators to finish off any second-contact setup work.”

“And you’ve got industrial replicators to finish off any second-contact setup work,” Tikva repeated. “If you hurry up, you might just make karaoke night as well.”

“Someone got you singing again?” Rachel asked after a brief delay, visibly buoyed at the prospect. “We’ll be there as soon as we can,” she continued, not bothering for an answer. “Perseus out,” Rachel then barked before the comm channel went dead, Rachel’s face replaced with Canopus’ seal on the monitor.

“Jokes on you, Rhea,” Tikva muttered gleefully as she started towards her shared bedroom, finishing tugging at the zip of her wetsuit. “I didn’t say I was singing.”

Yeah, but we’re gonna.

Can’t let Stirling and W’a have all the spotlight.

Besides, have to show the crew you aren’t just a boring member of the brass.

The only counter to these good internally raised points was for Tikva to moan in resigned agreement. “Computer, enter my name and Captain Garland’s to the upcoming karaoke competition registrar.”

The computer blurped in disagreement. “Error, you are already on the list,” the automated minion announced.

“What? Who added me to the list already?” Tikva interrogated the ethereal voice.

“Lieutenant Fightmaster added you to the list at 0800 hours this morning.”

A moment was taken to shake her fist at the non-existent sky before Tikva continued. “Add Captain Garland to the karaoke registrar, and then add a task to my to-do list to kill Stirling.”

“Error,” the computer spat back. “That item already exists on your to-do list. Added by Lieutenant Fightmaster at 0800 hours this morning.”

“Of course it does,” Tikva muttered in defeat. “Of course it does.”