"Bismuth, hurry! Get in here!"
She did, without a moment's hesitation. The insides of the ship were far, far less cramped than what the outside of it would suggest - Homeworld technology at its finest. Bismuth leaned against the pilot seat as she watched Pearl rush through the pre-flight preparations.
Always a sight, that. "This is what we're here for? Stars, Pearl. Dragging me away from my work on the pretext of an "important mission" when I have Rose's sword to finish… you're a menace."
"Oh dear, have I ever heard that one before," Pearl retorted, so visibly proud and pleased with herself Bismuth could have swooned. "Besides, I'm sure Rose won't mind my borrowing you for the day."
"Pfff, I bet she won't. She can't bear to frown in your general direction for more than five seconds and you know it."
"Yes, well, even if such a thing were true, it would be far beneath me to exploit it," Pearl stated with all the seriousness in the world. "Besides, it was too an important mission. And you need to get out more! The swords can wait."
Bismuth gaped at her. "Did I grab the wrong Gem by mistake when we fell down that old fuel chute? Who are you and what have you done to Pearl?"
"No, no, no, I don't think you did! You are most certainly looking at the one and only terrifying renegade pearl, very emphatically not at your service."
There was almost a wink in there somewhere, Bismuth would have sworn. "Ha! Good one. You're a treasure, Pearl."
Even after seeing it a thousand times, the blue blush remained one of the most endearing things Bismuth could think of. She offered Pearl an encouraging smile, and Pearl tossed a suddenly shy one right back. "I- I suppose. So, um… ready to make that daring escape?"
"With you? Always."
The gaze Pearl shot her was filled with a number of things that were both intense and beautifully right. They'd been at this for centuries, the rebellious handful of them, and the easy, loving familiarity felt more like home than any planet in the universe.
The moment was thoroughly ruined by the comms indicator of the ship's control panel lighting up and launching into a shrill series of bleeps. Pearl jumped, reached under the console, and both mercilessly and highly precisely yanked a handful of wires out.
The light died down immediately, but the sounds persisted, gradually coalescing into speech. "Dock 7A - we are detecting engine activity on your end and remind you that the station is currently in lockdown due to rebel interference. No takeoff is permitted without security override codes."
"This is the pearl belonging to Spinel Facet-2F14L Cut-7XE," Pearl intoned, slowly and demurely, the image of subservient politeness. "Endless apologies - we seem to be having some difficulties with the visual feed. I will fetch my mistress and she will supply the requested codes immediately."
A rather bored "Acknowledged." sounded from the speakers, then the signal returned to an idle static.
Bismuth let out a whistle. "Wow. You're good at that."
"I'm terrible, actually. But thank you! It does have its uses."
"So," Bismuth said, casually leaning against the back of the pilot seat, "what are the codes and how exactly do we send them?"
"Oh, I have absolutely no idea!"
Pearl's gleeful expression seemed rather at odds with the situation they found themselves in. "What? Pearl, I thought- woah. Heads up: we've got company incoming."
Shouts of They're here! The rebels! After them! Stop that ship! grew ever louder, until a group of diopside guards was pushing to climb on board. Pearl's hands flew over the controls faster than Bismuth could follow, and the small craft jumped, straining against its moorings. The walkway beneath them bucked and the diopsides fell over each other in a highly undignified heap, until all it took was an almost-gentle push from Bismuth to send them rolling to the other end of the dock.
"Whoops! I'm very sorry," Pearl called back after them, detaching the moorings and manoeuvring out of the dock in a series of precise, practised motions, the very opposite of sorry written all over her grinning face. "The inertial dampeners seem to be weaker than I thought they'd be. Honest mistake. You know, you really should get someone actually qualified to pilot these things."
The trip from the orbital shipyard to their base wasn't long, even with all the doubling back and winding track-and-heat-signature-covering Pearl insisted was necessary. They didn't even break the atmosphere that often (certainly, Bismuth knew, not often enough for Pearl's tastes), but the view was still something to be experienced.
"Nice work out there today," Bismuth interrupted the comfortable silence that had settled over the cockpit. The familiar sight of the hills surrounding their current base slowly filled the ship's viewscreen.
"Thank you! You as well. No, but really - we do need more ships for the dropoffs we're scheduling. This was crucial to our plans."
"Right. I get you. A very tactical hijacking of direly needed resources and not at all in any sense even slightly a joyride."
"You've absolutely got me," Pearl nodded. "Should I drop you off at the forge?"
"Hmm," the very thoughtful hum was punctuated by an arm thrown around Pearl's shoulders and deliberately gentle fingers ruffling her hair. "You know, I think we still have time before we need to be back. Enough for a few more spins, right?"
She drew Pearl even closer, and the giggling interrupting the mock-outraged cries of Bismuth! I'm trying to pilot a ship here! turned absolutely contagious. A kiss or two or three to the forehead - only barely brushing the gem - did nothing at all to help, and Bismuth was glad.