◆◆◇◇◆◆
1. A Quiet Morning, or: The Culmination of an Obsession
The Silver Anchor's living quarters smelled of toasted bread and synthetic coffee.
In the kitchen, Ledea Mace stood in her apron, plating breakfast with practiced efficiency. Mornings were usually Shutia's domain, but on days after time off, Ledea sometimes took over — a small, quiet routine of her own.
The automatic door slid open behind her.
Shutia. Who should, by all accounts, have been awake already. Who was instead moving with the particular heaviness of someone who had not slept nearly enough, rubbing one eye as she came in.
"Good morning, Shutia. This is unusual — you're not normally still dragging yourself out at this hour."
Shutia dropped onto the bench seat and put her face on the table.
"...Morning, sis. I was up late putting together the autumn edition of my Sis Coordination Proposal Deck — full commentary, retouched photos, archival format — and I kind of lost track of time."
"...Honestly."
Ledea exhaled. Somewhere on Shutia's terminal, a database of photographs — professionally retouched, exhaustively annotated — was growing larger. She had long since accepted that this was where that particular energy was going to go. It didn't mean she had to approve.
"Listen to me. You cannot let this affect your work. Eat, and then we leave. Today's job is exterior construction work at Orange Rock."
"Yes, yes... don't worry, sis. Once I'm in work mode, every cell in my brain gets reallocated to sis's service."
"...Is there any allocation in your brain for managing yourself?"
She set the thick-cut toast in front of Shutia with a sigh that was only half exasperated.
◆◆◇◇◆◆
2. A Rust-Red Memory, or: A Pom-Shaped Shadow
The Silver Anchor reached Orange Rock several hours later.
Orange Rock — the frontier communications relay outpost carved from a rust-red iron-oxide asteroid, where they had once tracked down an anomalous sound and found something small and orange wedged between two corroded panels. The outpost was now preparing for an expansion: a neighboring asteroid was being developed into Orange Rock II, doubling the station's communications capacity.
The job: attach prefabricated antenna support structures to the new asteroid's surface with precision. It required both accuracy and force simultaneously.
"Output up thirty percent. Laser cutter — firing."
"Copy, sis. Structural material secured, magnetic anchor connected. ...Ready when you are."
The Silver Anchor's high-output laser bit into the rust-red rock face. The surface glowed white-hot as the channels for the mounting brackets were cut. Then Shutia's multi-function anchor drove the multi-ton structural pieces into place, millimeter-perfect.
The work moved at a pace that made the construction crew watching from their monitors exchange impressed looks. Progress that would have taken other operators hours was advancing at thirty percent above schedule.
During a pause in the work, Ledea found herself looking at the shadows on the rust-red surface.
"...Come to think of it — the last time we were here, we found that orange creature."
"The *Spacia Pom*?"
A faint tension entered Shutia's voice.
"Yes. So soft. So genuinely adorable... I wonder if one might have wandered in again today. If I find one, perhaps this time I could bring it—"
"Sis! No! Wild creatures belong in the wild — that's the whole point!"
Shutia cut in at speed.
"There's a perfectly good wildlife preserve, and if you find one, the correct action is to send it there immediately. I've already calculated the optimal route to the nearest preserve. It's ready to go."
To Shutia, a *Spacia Pom* was not a cute creature. It was a rival — a competitor for a finite resource called Ledea's affection. An enemy. The stuffed Pom currently occupying a corner of Ledea's bed was already a formidable opponent. The real thing arriving on the ship was simply not a scenario she intended to permit.
"You don't need to panic — I know. I was only thinking that I hope the one from before is doing well."
"...Okay. Good. ...Oh — sis, debris cluster confirmed at three o'clock. On a course to intersect the work platform."
◆◆◇◇◆◆
3. What a Guardian Does, or: A Heart in Iron and Rust
Just as Shutia had said: rock fragments generated by the construction work had caught an unexpected gravitational eddy and were accelerating toward the scaffolding where the crew was working.
No time to warn them. No time to move.
The workers cried out and braced.
"Shutia—!"
"On it. Sis — hold position."
Shutia fired the auxiliary thrusters in a burst, rotating the ship. The anchor launched and swept through the debris cluster. But she didn't stop there: the anchor's head reconfigured mid-flight, and a magnetic field expanded from it like a net — catching the shattered fragments, drawing them together, pulling them away from the workers in a single controlled movement.
Nothing reached them. Not one piece.
What stood between the crew and the debris was a spread of steel cable catching the light like a late-afternoon sun — a wall that had appeared from nowhere and held.
"...Is anyone hurt?"
Shutia's voice through the external speaker was steady. Composed. The kind of voice that made frightened people feel that the situation was already handled.
"...No. No, we're — we're fine. ...Thank you. Thank you, miss."
"This is part of the work. Please continue. We'll maintain a watch on the surrounding area."
The bearing was flawless — a lady in full, and a knight in full, occupying the same body without contradiction.
After the job wrapped and they returned to the station dock, the crew gathered around them.
"You really saved us out there. That anchor work — I've never seen anything like it."
"Here — it's a local specialty. Please take it." A younger worker, face slightly red, held out a can of juice to Shutia. "And, um — if you don't have plans after this, there's a bar on the station that's actually really good—"
An invitation.
Shutia accepted the juice with both hands and a gentle smile.
"That's very kind of you. Unfortunately, I have somewhere important to be after this."
"Oh — right. Of course. Maybe some other—"
"Yes, perhaps another time."
She bowed gracefully. The workers stood in a mild daze. She walked back to Ledea.
◆◆◇◇◆◆
4. An Unchanged Tether, or: The Highest Belonging
Dusk at Orange Rock.
The asteroid's shadow lengthened. The station lights came on one by one.
"You're always popular, Shutia."
Ledea said it while closing the hatch, not quite looking at her sister. There was something in her voice — small, and probably not fully intentional — that sat somewhere between observation and complaint.
"That person was looking at you quite admiringly. Given that you work the way you do and carry yourself the way you do — it makes sense. But still."
Shutia set down her half-removed gloves and settled in beside Ledea.
She looked at her the way she always looked at her.
"...There you go again. I've always told you, sis."
She took Ledea's small hands in both of hers.
"I belong to sis. My heart, everything else — sis holds the title to all of it."
"...You always take it to extremes."
"That's fine. It's what makes me happy."
Shutia rested her head on Ledea's shoulder and closed her eyes with quiet satisfaction. The fatigue of the day's work dissolved — simply from this, from the warmth of her — into something that felt like the finest reward available in this or any galaxy.
"...Let's go home. I want to take it easy tonight."
"Oh — since we're going home anyway, sis, what do you think about reviewing my coordination proposal deck—"
"Absolutely not. And I've updated my bedroom lock again today, just so you know."
"What?! That's so unfair, sis—!"
The Silver Anchor accelerated away from the rust-red asteroid field.
Carrying its two noisy passengers home, through the universe that belonged, as always, to just the two of them.