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?"


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "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."


    "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 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 refereed 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.