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1. Morning Intrusion
Artificial sunlight crept through the gaps in the blackout curtains, thin and insistent.
Ledea Mace surfaced from sleep aware of two things: warmth, and weight. Her small frame was wrapped in something larger than her — arms around her from behind, slow breath against the back of her neck, steady as a tide.
"...Shutia."
The arms tightened the moment she said the name.
"Mm... morning, sis. Cutest person in the world, as always."
Still half-asleep, Shutia pressed her nose into the nape of Ledea's neck and breathed in slowly, like she was memorizing something.
"Good morning, Shutia." Ledea's voice was flat, practiced. "I'm fairly certain I changed the electronic lock on this room recently. Would you like to explain?"
Shutia laughed — low, unbothered, not even slightly guilty.
"It took me three whole days this time. The algorithm was actually kind of tricky." A pause. "But it's worth it. Sleeping next to you. That's worth anything."
Ledea looked at the ceiling.
A sister who described breaking and entering as *effort well spent*. She exhaled slowly.
"...You're impossible. I assume breakfast is already made, since you've clearly been here a while. We'll eat together. I'll handle the drinks — now let go of me."
"Yes, yes!" Shutia was already up, voice bright, padding toward the kitchen. "I made omelets. They're my best ones yet, I promise."
Ledea watched her go.
Then, very quietly, she began working out the structure of a more complicated password.
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2. Traffic Control at the Edge of Nowhere
The job took them out to *Comet Center* — a mid-sized trading station at the fringe of mapped space, perpetually understaffed and perpetually busy.
Today's work: traffic coordination. Guiding ships in, keeping the lanes clear, preventing the kind of small disasters that compounded into large ones.
"Starboard side — merchant convoy incoming. Shutia, signal them. Route to Gate Three."
"Copy." Shutia ran the guidance laser with the ease of someone who'd done it a thousand times. "Honestly, they could just use drones for this. Making you deal with it personally — what kind of operation is this station running?"
"One with no budget for drones." Ledea eased the ship into position, catching a stray light freighter with the tow anchor and nudging it firmly back into lane. "Hiring people like us is cheaper. That's all."
A pause.
"...They're getting *cheap* labor from my sister," Shutia muttered, mostly to herself. "I'm the only one who's allowed to think of you as affordable."
The comment dissolved into the hum of the engines before Ledea could decide whether to respond.
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3. The Face She Wears
The call came from station control without warning.
*"Mace sisters — Sector Eleven, now. Contact incident between two ships, and it's escalating fast. We need it contained before someone throws a punch."*
"Understood. Shutia, we're moving."
"On it. Anyone who disrupts my sister's workday," Shutia said pleasantly, "gets gently corrected."
They arrived to find two mining haulers nose-to-nose, broadcasting at each other across every open channel.
*"Move your ship or I'll move it for you! I was here first!"*
*"You cut me off! Everyone saw it!"*
Ledea brought their vessel between the two and opened a line.
"Both of you — stand down. Continued obstruction is a guild violation. You'll be fined."
*"Mind your business, kid!"*
Then Shutia leaned into frame.
She took one moment to smooth her hair back — unhurried, deliberate — and when she looked up, her entire bearing had changed. Soft eyes. A smile like warm light. The voice that followed was gentle enough to belong in a chapel.
"...Forgive the interruption. Could I trouble you for just a moment?"
Silence fell on both channels simultaneously.
"It makes me sad to see such fine ships in a standoff like this." She tilted her head slightly. "Could you take a breath — and clear the lane? For me?"
*"...Yeah. Yeah, okay. Sorry, ma'am."*
Ledea closed the channel.
"Impressively done. You were almost unrecognizable."
"*Almost?*" Shutia was already settling back against Ledea's shoulder, reverting as naturally as a tide going out. "That's just how I am, sis. I'm always like that."
"Mm."
"Outside. With other people." She closed her eyes. "I'm just a pretty prop to everyone else. The real version of me — that's only for you."
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4. The Heat That Stays
Home. The workday done.
Ledea was at her desk before her coat was fully off, holographic figures already pulling up — fuel costs, route calculations, the maintenance schedule she'd been putting off.
"Next job runs long. We'll need to restock the energy packs, and your targeting system is overdue for a check."
She wrote as she talked, not looking up.
Shutia sat nearby. Not helping, not reading — just there, watching.
"...Is something wrong?"
"No. Nothing." Shutia's voice was easy, content. "I just like watching you work. It makes me happy."
She looked at Ledea the way someone might look at something they'd been afraid of losing.
Ledea felt warmth creep to the back of her ear. She kept writing.
"...You're strange."
"Only for you."
A quiet settled between them. Shutia watched the pen move.
"...Hey, sis. Can I say something?"
"Go ahead."
"Those men today. When they saw my face — they looked so pleased."
"...They did. It helped."
"Yeah."
A pause. Then, gently:
"But that face isn't really for them. The only person who's supposed to look happy when they see me —" she smiled, soft and certain "— is you."
Ledea's pen didn't stop.
But there was a gap — small, barely there — before the next number appeared on the page.
The night settled around them, quiet and close.
Shutia's words dissolved into it, the way they always did.
The way Ledea always let them.