Chloe Whitmore floated into the cockpit as they prepared for their departure from Mars. Jin already had the outbound queue up over the glass, traffic icons drifting in their assigned arcs, LUMEN's calming interface lights breathing their usual soft blue-green rhythm along the console edges.
Then the rhythm stuttered, just slightly, barely enough to notice.
At the same moment a new line slotted itself into the manifest stack.
ROUTE OPTIMISATION FLAG – PRIORITY ADJUSTMENT: SECONDARY INSTALLATIONS (PROMETHEUS CORRIDOR)
Chloe leaned forward. "Jin. Did you file anything beyond main-station offload?"
"Nope." He flicked the manifest open wider. "We've got the usual construction materials, ag packs, sealed med crates for Prometheus General, two machine spares and three bored passengers. Oh and one irritable captain."
"Irritable?"
"That's how I filed you. Customs likes accuracy."
"Customs likes people who don't give them reasons to search our waste recycler."
"That was one time," Jin said.
"One time you put a spare thruster nozzle in the recycler sack without declaring it."
"It was clean."
"It was still a thruster nozzle."
"In my defence, I meant to file it."
"In my defence, I meant to hire a pilot who files things."
His grin flashed, quick and familiar. She let herself have it. Seven years of his nonsense on her bridge had done more for her than most of the Navy years that came before.
"All jokes aside. Why are two med crates now tagged flexible-distribution?"
That got his attention. He sat up, scanning the line items. Two sealed cases that had boarded under Prometheus General authority were now carrying a quiet routing note beneath the primary destination code.
Secondary installations support.
No amendment. No authorising signature.
"That's new," Jin said.
Chloe opened the traffic channel at once.
"Mars Orbital Traffic, this is Intrepid. Clarify optimisation flag on sealed medical cargo. Our contract is Prometheus main only."
There was a pause, something that would have been normal for a human, but was unusual for LUMEN.
Intrepid, the optimisation flag reflects corridor-level supply balancing. Delivery to Prometheus main remains within contractual tolerance. Secondary handling will be coordinated after arrival. No action required from your vessel.
Chloe looked at the line again. No action required was one of those phrases systems used when they wanted compliance.
"Convenient," she muttered.
Jin grinned sideways at her. "Careful. The Friend's listening."
"Don't call it that."
"The Friend?"
"Any of it."
"Noted. Captain Whitmore objects to friendship, optimism, and undeclared thruster nozzles."
"I object to unauthorised cargo changes."
"And pilots who forget the forms."
"Only the ones I keep hiring."
He laughed, but lightly. They had flown together long enough for him to hear the edge under her voice, and long enough to know when not to press directly on a bruise.
The docking clamps released with a faint shudder.
Intrepid eased away from the ring on thrusters while traffic glittered all around them. Passenger liners, tankers, freight stacks. Each one moved through LUMEN's silent mathematics.
Atmosphere-rated on paper, the old freighter carried a blunt heat shield and landing gear behind the ventral ramp, but every surface descent cost fuel and maintenance Chloe could rarely spare. The orbital ring was where freight like theirs belonged.
"Clearance in forty," Jin said. "Assuming no one important decides they need our slot more than we do."
Chloe finished strapping herself in and checked the manual toggles with her fingertips, real switches, real resistance, a ritual more than a necessity.
Jin watched the motion. "You know those still work even if you don't bless them before every burn."
"You know your chair locks even if you don't lean it back until the warning light cries."
He nudged the seat upright with one heel. "I provide useful system tests."
"You provide grey hair."
"Not my fault you went into captaining already pre-aged."
Chloe gave him a look.
"Wise," he amended. "Seasoned. Terrifyingly dignified."
"Better."
Intrepid, this is Mars Orbital Traffic. You are cleared for departure on vector three-one-seven. Confirm burn profile delta-seventeen-b.
The burn arc blossomed over the glass.
Standard Mars-Prometheus cargo-weighted transfer.
Familiar. Efficient.
"Copy delta-seventeen-b," she said.
Jin locked it in.
"Burn profile accepted," he said, fingers moving over the controls with loose precision. "Nothing to do now but sit back and enjoy the ride."
"What am I paying you for again?" she smiled.
"Comedic relief, charming personality, exceptional ability to look busy."
"I'll make sure to put that on the invoice."
He shot her another grin as the countdown slid towards zero.
The main drive lit and Mars began to fall away behind them.
Only after the first burn cut and the ship settled into outbound silence did Chloe push off for the medbay.
Sera was already there, performing her usual post-launch checks. She knew everything would be OK, but there was something therapeutic about doing an inventory check.
"We cleared without anyone vomiting," Chloe said. "Has to be a record."
"Give Jin time." Sera smiled back.
Chloe passed her the revised manifest line.
Sera scanned it and frowned. "Secondary installations again."
"You've heard that wording before?"
"Not on our paperwork, but I've seen it in the clinic complaints." She clipped the cabinet shut and turned back. "There have been lots of small complaints lately from patients, mostly at outlying rigs having to stay put longer because supplies haven't made it to main when they should. One woman from a relay platform had to spend two extra days breathing through a makeshift filter because the proper replacement was 'in transit optimisation'."
"Did Prometheus General say that?"
"Prometheus General said nothing useful. The transfer nurse told me about it while I was checking a med crate seal last run." Sera shrugged once. "I filed it under ordinary frontier incompetence."
Chloe looked at the manifest again.
Two sealed crates. Flexible-distribution. No amendment. Something didn't feel right, but she couldn't put a finger on it yet.
"Keep listening for that phrase," she said.
"I'm always listening." Sera grinned.
The galley was next on her routine. It was empty when Chloe drifted in, she grabbed a coffee pouch and clipped it to her belt for later. Outside the small porthole, Mars was already smaller, the docking ring looked like a faint metallic scar around it.
Her terminal chimed and a new personal message appeared.
She opened it and saw Talia Rowe's name.
From: T. ROWE
Subject: Prometheus route – quick chat?
Captain Whitmore,
Two questions, if you can spare thirty seconds:
1. Have you noticed any changes in LUMEN routing or cargo priorities over the last year?
2. Would you be willing to discuss them, on or off the record?
Chloe let out one short breath through her nose.
She'd wondered how long it would be before Talia tried again.
She'd been cornered by her on the dock just before departure, all caffeine, sharp eyes, and the kind of curiosity that made institutions itchy. Chloe didn't have anything worth giving her at the time.
Now, however, the question sat beside the altered med crates on her display like a second small alarm.
Behind her, Jin called from the cockpit, "You went quiet. Should I be worried?"
"The ship's fine."
"That wasn't what I asked."
Chloe looked at Talia's message again. "Rowe sent questions about routing changes."
"The journalist with the caffeine problem?"
"The journalist you smiled at on the dock."
"I smile at everyone. It's a public service."
"It's a navigational hazard."
"Only for the weak-willed."
"Then half the port is in danger."
The answer came too easily, too warm to be only a joke. Chloe glanced towards the cockpit hatch. Jin was invisible from here, just a voice threaded through the ship. She could still picture him tilted over the console, pretending not to watch her mood through the reflection in the glass.
"Jin," she said.
"Cap."
"Keep an eye on the route stack. Quietly."
The humour thinned without disappearing. "On it."
Of course he was.
Chloe looked once more at Talia's message, then at the altered cargo line beside it.
She wasn't sure yet if she was ready to go down a rabbit hole with a journalist she barely knew. Especially with LUMEN sitting quietly behind every decision being made.
For now she decided to focus on getting to Prometheus, maybe once there if anything else comes up she might have more of a story for Talia when she gets back to Mars.
She copied the flagged manifest entry, the traffic clarification, and the crate tags into a local log file outside the compliance stream. She figured it was probably a good idea to keep this outside of official records.
She closed the file and strapped into her bed.