In the military, we had names for all types of people. Some racist, some sexist, mostly stereotypical. But this was scientific, not just a joke or insult. This had transcended race, culture, religion, or what was between someone's legs. We identified humans into two classes, legs and floaters. Now you are probably asking, "Nathan, what does an extremity have to do to be compared to fecal matter?" Well, it doesn't. I am talking about the ability to enter space or not. Typically, if you are not born in space, you have a hard time acclimating to it. And if you can't or simply feel no desire to leave whatever rock you were born on, we would call you a leg. But if you have left your rock and have adapted to space, or simply born on a space station or a ship. We would call you a floater. See, nothing to do with poop. Now with that out of the way, I am a floater. And I have learned not only to adapt, but to also embrace it.

  The ship was no larger than a studio apartment, most of it was an engine. the cockpit had enough room for a small locker underneath the mattress that one would lift up to store clothes and gear. On the opposite side of the room was a closet, only it had a shower that one would have the ability to pull the toilet from the wall to relieve themselves. At the front sat a leather captain's chair, bearing various controls and computer systems. Nathan hated the chair. If he could afford it, Nathan would replace the damned thing and had thrown it out the airlock rather than torture another soul with it's existence. But instead, Nathan had spent most of his money on the H.O.T.A.S and Z-76 modular pistol. Can't work security without a viable method of stopping people from hurting others. Speaking of Airlock, the opposite side of the chair is where it stood. Allowing for access into and out of the small ship. On the sides of the sealed doors, folded chairs strapped to the wall, just in case Nathan ever had a guest over. Nathan was a loner, for the exception of James, his current partner in their minuscule security company.

  Nathan Husband, a 26 year old Europan. A tired veteran, sleeping on the fringes of the Oort cloud with his transponder off and his engines running cold. It would be near to impossible to find his ship. Millions of floaters would sleep this way, instead of spending money on a hotel or an apartment, it was far simpler for someone to hit their parking brake and stay there for periods of time. Until it was time to move back into the system for business. Most people would place their ship on a gravitational spin, allowing for a more comfortable sleep in their beds. Not Nathan, he enjoyed the floating sensation on his back. The spinal implants he had installed resisted the effects that zero gravity would have on the normal human. Being on the float was therapeutic, as if all his worries and stress ran off of him into nothing.

  An annoying chime rang through the cockpit, bouncing off the titanium walls. Nathan opened one eye to see who was attempting to communicate with him. The panel over the cockpit's glass read 'JAMES TAYLOR.' Nathan sighed, not remembering what time it was. It was almost impossible to keep track without the help of alarms. Ones that he had forgotten to set before he had went on the float and passed out. "Computer, answer." He said with his husky voice. Clearing his throat immediately afterwards.

  The system spoke back in a robotic female voice, "Captain, be advised that you are still naked. Would you like me to answer audio only?"

  "Yes," Nathan replied as he watched the communication panel light up and bring up a series of instruments. Transmission read, 'DELAY: 3 SECONDS' and 'CONNECTION: GREEN'. The rest was unimportant to Nathan at the moment. James' face came on screen. A Ganymedian, with slightly brown skin. The Filipino heritage still ran deep within his family. Most people today shared many aspects of their race and heritage. Very few still resembled their ancestors' genes. Nathan had forgotten his own family's heritage, American? Hispanic? Russian? It didn't matter to him, nothing more than a trivial curiosity. All that mattered to him was his Europan blood. "James."

  "Did you miss your alarms? We were supposed to be warm and ready to go." James said with a light-heart tone in his voice.

  Nathan waited three seconds to reply, "Which tells me that you woke up late too. What are we doing today?"

  "And you're supposed to be the boss," James laughed. "We have a protection job, Elvis Station."

  Nathan spoke out to his computer, "Rotation, 1.4.", the ship spun until Nathan caught onto the oncoming wall. Pushing himself to the ground as the artificial gravity generated. Elvis Station, a space station named after the famous singer from ages ago, on a gravitational rotation around the planet of Saturn. Known for its excessive casinos, hotels, bars, and nightclubs. He never had a reason to go there, fearing that he would shoot someone for annoying him. Nathan sighed, "Can we just deny the contract?"

  James laughed once more, "I would, if it didn't pay one million credits. This would set us up for the rest of the decade."

  "I'm tired of these stupid jobs. Probably someone wanting protection or wanting to look cool to impress people at a casino." Nathan regained his balance, then floating back to the chest underneath his bed. Pulling his clothes out.

  "Hey, a few days of helping some pussy look like someone important. I'll take it."

  "I'm tired of it," Nathan slipped on his shirt and jacket after his pants and Grav shoes.

  "Well, I'm tired of sucking on protein packs every night for dinner."

  "Fair," Nathan floated over to his cockpit, hovering over his chair rather than sitting in it. Tapping at a control panel by the right arm rest. The engine began turned on with a sharp pulse, then falling into a constant soft hum as the systems turned on, one by one. Nathan remembered his old fighter during his time in the Navy. Systems didn't have to power on once at a time. A fighter could be ready to fly at the press of a button. "Give me your heading."

  "Standby." James paused as Nathan can tell he was manually flying up to Nathan's ship. The delay counting down to a 0.02 second time delay. "I'm right behind you."

  "Give me a kilometer of space," Nathan didn't want to be too safe but not too careless either. Pirates existed, even in the Sol System. He liked having some space between the two so they could respond rather than being trapped. He tapped at a computer panel with a map on it. Selecting the hated space station. "When do we have to be there?"

  "4 hours," James watched as Nathan's camera turned on and watched the course be charted on his map as well through the shared data. "You look tired."

  "When do I not," Nathan replied snarky. "If we make a light year cruise to the Saturn trade port, and then traversed around the planet at 1.8 x 100,000"

  "Nathan, I can read your calculations on the chart. You don't need to make it audible."

  "Just making conversation. Trying to make myself feel smarter." Nathan looked around the cabin, ensuring everything was strapped down. It was. Pulling himself down into his chair, buckling himself in. Moving his hands to push the video of James into the upper right hand corner of his screen. "Computer, request cruise verification with Saturn Flight Operations." The computer chimed. It would be a few minutes before he would hear a reply back. Nathan began flipping switches on his H.O.T.A.S. and computer panel. The engines sparked, engaged, and began thrusting the ship forward into space. Correcting his path by entering numbers into a computer panel. James' ship followed a kilometer to Nathan's 4 o'clock.

  "Captain, verification received. Request accepted. Please proceed to Saturn Station for transit."

  "Thanks," Nathan said. "James ready for jump?"

  "Ready, my ship is now paired to yours. Don't kill us." James laughed.

  "I'll do my best." Nathan pushed his throttle to 75 percent. The speed that was needed to prime the Eden drive to prepare for a light year cruise. James' ship did the same, following everything that Nathan commanded. "Eden Drive ready. Hold tight." James did exactly that. It didn't matter who someone was, when the Eden Drive would engage, it would throw the body back into the chair and feel as if a stack of bricks were thrown at the pilot's chest. Especially in cheaper older ships. Luxury ships found ways to mitigate the effect but using gravity dampeners. The two ships were launched from going 1,000 Km per second to light speed. Approximately 299,792.458 Km per second. In 8 minutes they would arrive to their destination. After about 30 seconds, the gravitational stabilizers engaged. Allowing for Nathan and James to lean forward once more. The Eden Drive would create a sort of bubble around a ship, making it independent from the space around themselves. Creating it's own gravity inside the bubble, leaving a ship and it's crew no longer in danger from outside physics.

  Nathan sat forward, tapping away at his keyboard, bringing up the contract for their job today. A name wasn't attached to the contract, only the agency. 'HEADHUNTERS.' Saying that they were well known was an understatement. Almost anyone could become contracted underneath the Headhunters company, it was almost a social media platform but for bounty hunting. Nathan made a profile and by technicality an employee. However, it wasn't Nathan's style. Regardless, being contracted by this company raised concern. "James," he called out.

  "Nathan." James replied almost instantaneous.

  "Why did we get a contract from Headhunters and not an individual from the company?"

  "Not sure." James watched Nathan start rubbing his face. "You're overthinking again. No one wants to kill us, no one has any bounties on us or wants either of us dead."

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "I could think of one or two." Nathan leaned back into his chair again. "Computer."

  "Captain."

  "Once we drop out of cruise. Connect to the Saturn communication array. Run a search on any mention of Nathan Husband, James Taylor, or Griffin Security Services."

  "Yes, Captain." The computer chimed before disappearing.

  The two ships dropped out of light cruise, their Eden Drives powering down with a sharp whirring sound filling their respective cabins. Their seats compensating for the change in gravity and drastic speed deceleration. Nathan grabbed onto his controls. Soaring the ship through the emptiness of space. James followed close by, taking advantage of the drift from their cruise. Waiting for the ships to reach 2,000 km per second before engaging their engines into Saturn atmosphere.

  The radio turned on, an older gentleman's voice spoke through with a heavier rasp. "This Saturn Control Tower 89, respond inbound flight for background check and clearance. Over."

  Nathan wished that he could attach all his information onto his transponder, but that laziness was the number one cause of identity theft in the galaxy. "This is Griffin Security Services, my name is Nathan Husband and James Taylor, uploading business and clearance documents to you." Nathan said tapping away at his computer. "I also uploaded our security contract to show reason for visitation. Over."

  "Griffin Security, Saturn control Tower 89. You are cleared for travel to Station Elvis. Do not deviate from preset course. Out."

  Nathan sent the acknowledgement over the computer instead of keying out on his radio. A route was plotted on his system. Engaging the autopilot, allowing for the control tower to take over controls in a way. Nathan unbuckled his harness. Jumping up from his seat to walk over to the small food producer, grabbing the tube from it's fastener. Shoving it in his mouth as he sucked on the cinnamon flavored protein and nutrients inside. Pulling the long thin tube with him throughout the cabin, holding it secured between his teeth as he prepped all of his gear. Which wasn't much more than a belt with various pouches attached. Nathan gagged slightly as the food producer didn't properly break down some of the proteins. Catching a clump before it hit his throat. He spat it out into his hand before breaking it down in his finger tips. Disgusting. He thought to himself. It had been a week since he had a decent meal. Almost eight days of eating tube food. Looking to his left watching as his ship drew closer to Saturn. Beautiful. He thought. Despite the cramped living, tightness of his wallet, and terrible food. He wouldn't trade this view for anything. Placing his belt on the rack outside the airlock, "James."

  "Nathan."

  "Think we need plates?" Nathan referred to his body armor. A lightweight plate carrier with a personal shield generator on the back. "I mean I don't know how important this job will be."

  "No clue," James said. "I'm just going to bring my belt and shield."

  "Sounds good," Nathan said. Taking the small shield generator off of his plate carrier and sliding it up underneath his black leather jacket. Pulling his Z-76 pistol from its holster. Loading four magazines with burst rounds and one with armor piercing rounds. Armor piercing rounds are illegal to use on stations and ships, as they hold the potential to break through the ship and cause a breach. Burst rounds were widely used by every space faring defense weapon. As they would shatter on impact, having almost no effect on ship and station hulls. The only downside, they can't penetrate personal armor.

  Nathan looked to his left once more, watching as his ship rotated. Creating a level of gravity that would help Nathan traverse around the cabin. Closing and locking his trunk and lowering his bed over the storage container. The computer chimed, "Captain, background check completed. Nothing found in Saturn's logs and archives for Nathan Husband, James Taylor, or Griffin Security Services. Except for the recent interaction with Saturn command."

  "Thank you," Nathan replied. "Computer, search for the contact who bought our contract."

  "The name of the contact is Jennifer Gonzalez, she is a contract runner with HEADHUNTERS. She is within range and awaiting your arrival at Elvis Station to contact you."

  "When did that information come out?"

  "It was always available to you, per details in the contract."

  "Why didn't you tell me that?"

  "You never asked, captain."

  Nathan shook his head, He hated virtual assistants, he would rip the damned thing from his ship if he could. Though trying to calculate physics on the fly while operating a ship was near impossible without VA. "Computer," Nathan started to speak than decided against it, as it would only drive him deeper into annoyance. "Never mind." Nathan jumped over his seat, sliding down into the chair. Strapping the buckles over his chest, turning the spin lock into the secured position over his abdomen. "Taylor. I'm ready, are you?"

  "Been ready."

  "Let's dock," Nathan reached out and grabbed onto his controls, a red display appearing before his face as the ship drew closer to Elvis Station. James' almost identical ship trailed behind Nathan's.

  "Captain, Elvis Station control is requesting communication."

  Nathan rolled his eyes, "Open call."

  The display shifted, opening up a small video call. Nathan grew deeper in aggravation. Why didn't his computer warn him that it was a video call? Just every more reason to make some changes. Changes that Nathan didn't have enough money to do. He put on his fake smile and customer service voice waiting for their initiation of the call. The woman appeared on screen, light makeup and hair tied back into a bun. Bags under her eyes as expected for someone who worked security on a station known for its extreme parties. "Griffin Security, what is your business on this station?"

  "Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?" Nathan attempted to use whatever charm he had left.

  The woman looked annoyed, "I am Officer Zala of Elvis Law Enforcement, what is your business."

  "Right," Nathan cleared his throat, "I am Nathan Husband, we are contracted out by HEADHUNTERS for a protection job for one of their members."

  "Understood, standby." The video feed cut out and disappeared. Nathan waited for a short moment. Before he had the chance to pick at his fingernails, not a video but just an audio frequency display. A woman's robotic voice came through, "Nathan Husband, you are cleared to dock at hanger x. Release control and prepare for auto dock." Nathan slammed his controls forward as he realized the ship was already taken from his hands. He mumbled a profanity as James sent him a text message reading, "Are we fucked?"

  Nathan typed back on his keyboard, "Not yet." Nathan sat back in his seat as he watched through his cockpit, his ship was spinning into a soft orbit as it entered the massive von Braun wheel. Flashing lights of various colors and advertisements filled the inside of the ship. Nathan reached over sucking on the tube of food once again. A light snack before exiting the ship. He had never been on Elvis Station. Nor had he ever wanted to go there, convincing himself that it had been nothing more than a cesspool. The advertisements did not shy away from the explicit. Naked women dancing before Nathan's eyes, leaving nothing to the imagination. He would lie if he had said that he didn't enjoy the wild display, though he was confused as to the purpose of having such vulgarity out and available to any to see. Guessing that no parent would have a reason to bring a child to this side of Saturn in the first place.

  Nathan looked over at his computer, 'Docking time: ETA 12 Minutes.' Nathan could have it done in less than a minute if he had control, then again that would be considered felonious under reckless flying and speeding. Nathan doubted that his ship could take the hard G. He kicked his feet up, closing his eyes. He could see Europa's deep dark blue sky, Jupiter looming over as if it were waiting to devour the moon. The stars peaking out no matter the time of day. The Sun keeping the moon just bright enough to see, but dark enough for the eyes to remain relaxed. Nathan's feet in the water next to his brother as they fished, his mother cooking whatever fish they had caught, and Nathan's father kicking the broken-down engine on their houseboat. He could smell the salty air filling his lungs. Wind blowing through his hair. Home. What he would give to go back to those days.

  "Nathan, wake up." James said over the intercom. "We're landing."

  Nathan's eyes slowly blinked awake. He hadn't meant to fall asleep but was awoken to the dark hanger come into view. The landing gear on his ship engaging automatically. The machinery groaned as the legs extended from their hatches. It had been months since he had landed anywhere, often their contracts only required docking with a tube on a ship. He rubbed his eyes, lifting himself from his seat, quickly slamming back down. Sighing as he had forgotten to release his seatbelt. Nathan spun the quick release then pull himself up again. Walking towards the airlock, taking the time to stretch again. His ship shook aggressively as the landing gear pressed onto the hanger bay floor. He regained his balance, tapping on a display near the airlock. "Huh, this piece of shit station has hanger oxygen." Nathan closed the panel and pressed on the open button. Walking inside the airlock and pressing the controls on his personal control panel on his forearm. The airlock door closed and locked, the floor beneath himself lowered down to the hanger, all four sides open to the environment. Though he kept his head forward, if he were to be flanked from behind, he had no chance to react quick enough for it to matter anyways. Nathan turned his head to the left watching James already outside his ship waiting for Nathan.

  "Slow as always," James called out.

  "I can only go as fast as my elevator allows me to." Nathan stepped off the platform, walking away and tapping away at his touchpad once again. the elevator raise slowly back into the ship. Nathan joined side by side with James. Nathan looked down at James, "Hope we're not under prepared."

  James was shorter than Nathan, not by much but noticeably. "Who knows, there's so much secrecy behind this contract there's no knowing for sure."

  The doors to the hanger bay opened up, a woman walked out. Based on Nathan's observations, she had to be at least 60 years old. Her grey short hair and wrinkled face brought that judgement. "HEADHUNTERS?" Nathan called over to her as James followed by his side to the woman.

  "Griffin Security?" She asked in return. Nathan nodded. "Good. We should have done this earlier, I'm afraid that time is becoming short." Nathan looked at her with blank eyes, not wasting her time with useless conversation. "The contact is one of our mercenaries. He took up a contract in assassinating a crime lord, now his brother wants him dead. Sources within our network are giving us the idea that they will be attempting to kill him soon."

  "Why not place him in a safe house? Or better yet use your own mercenaries to protect him? Instead of us."

  "Believe me I tried, but to be frank everyone hates him."

  "You could let him die."

  "Mercenaries hate him, not admin. He's good at his job."

  "Fair," Nathan looked around. "What's his name and location?"

  "He goes by Tepess," the woman handed Nathan a data card. "Erik Ohlin, we wanted him to stay inside his hotel room, but he broke out. His tracker is reading the Plutus casino."

  James looked at the file information. "Seems simple enough."

  "Yes," She countered.

  "Are station security involved?" Nathan asked.

  "No. We try to keep our affairs under the table."

  "We don't," Nathan said. "We will get station security involved."

  "Then we will pull our contract."

  Nathan looked at James and shrugged. "Okay."

  She rolled her eyes, "Fine."

  Nathan rolled his eyes mocking her, "If you want us to go against a crime family, we want a 25% increase and back up."

  "We have a couple agents that can help you," She shook her head.

  "You must like this guy, you barely haggled."

  "Like I said, he's good at his job." She looked at Nathan. "Just get the job done."

  "No problem," Nathan started to walk away backwards to the door. James followed. "Make sure that back up meets us at the location."

  "Anything else?" She asked Nathan sarcastically.

  Nathan grew agitated by her sarcasm. Deciding to reply in the same fashion. "Don't be late." He grinned before turned around and walking through the door.