Or, at least, she'd like to leave it at that, but the beautiful woman is at the next station, too.

Emma's been trying her best to put her out of her mind – trying, and failing miserably. The last couple of weeks have been spent with nothing to do but fly the ship, maintain it – and with as good a condition as the Bug is in right now, that translates to not much at all. She's tried to throw herself into research. They still don't know exactly where the gem they're after is, after all, but she doesn't have much luck with that either. And so Emma had pulled them off at the next station they'd come across out of frustration. It hadn't been on the plan, necessarily – they were supposed to go another five days before they hit a resupply at Hjielak, but it had always been an option to stop on Norogrobva, and Emma'd had enough of staring at the fucking walls. Ruby had eyed her at the panel, and Emma had huffed, explaining, "I need a fucking drink."

"You want a drinking buddy? We could do shots," Ruby had offered, and Emma had only shrugged.

"If you want to." She'd almost felt bad about her easy dismissal of the offer, because really, Ruby was only trying to be her friend. The other half of her didn't care.

And so, they end up at a station that they've visited a handful of times before. The entire crew offloads – Emma can't blame them. They're all restless, just like she is. Ruby comes drinking with her, but she hears the others murmuring about food and shopping and honestly, she's just glad she hasn't been goaded into spending her break trying on overpriced tunics.

Overpriced drinks are where it's at.

This region of space is home to a system of planets that's known for its root vegetables, and so Emma orders a cocktail that uses one of the local liquors. It's something like vodka, and that's all she needs to know. Ruby gets herself one too – something that looks fruity and smells even more so. She pretty quickly spots a group playing something like pool and with a flash of a smile in Emma's direction she splits off, presumably to hustle them.

Emma raises her glass in a gesture of good luck and resumes sipping her drink with her weight against the bar. She's not even halfway through it when a familiar face catches her eye.

There, across the bar, is her.

The woman's eyes are already locked on her. Even from here, Emma can see that she's got the barest hint of a smile on those full lips. Emma watches as she raises her glass to her, that smile growing just a hint.

Fuck.

Damn it.

Emma slips around the bar, keeping her eyes locked on the strange woman just in case she decides to pull some kind of disappearing act like she had at Valkitas. She's dressed differently this time, Emma notes – not that she's looking. This bar is warmer than the first one had been, and she's ditched the button up and jacket for a neatly hemmed tank top that exposes the sleek lines of her collarbone. Her hair is down this time, too, and Emma decidedly ignores the way that makes her stomach flutter.

She aims for cool once she finally reaches her, silently relieved that she hadn't managed to slip away. "What a coincidence, seeing you again."

The woman taps her fingertips absentmindedly against her glass and says, eyes flashing, "Coincidence, sure. Or maybe it's fate."

"Right," Emma says flatly, and slides into the stool next to her. She waits for her to say something further. She doesn't, and so she adds, "I didn't catch your name last time."

The woman smiles. It's a bit wicked, a little mischievous – and Emma doesn't quite know what to make of that. "I didn't give it."

"I don't suppose you're going to now, either?"

The woman only inclines her head, a gesture that, coupled with the raising of her brow, clearly gives a playful no. Emma narrows her eyes, evaluating. The other woman does the same, bringing her glass of something like wine – red, and fuck, that's so pretentious – to her lips and sipping.

"Fine," Emma says. "Will you at least tell me what you're drinking?"

"It's called rok," She answers, dipping her voice on the o. "Fermented sweet vegetables native to the planet below this station. Tastes like beets." Emma wrinkles her nose, and she grins. "It's an acquired taste. Not quite a good cabernet, but it's fine in a pinch." She takes another sip and then indicates Emma's glass. "And you?"

Emma shrugs and raises her glass in a mock-toast. "Vodka. Basically."

"Vodka," The woman echoes, flat and a little disbelieving. "For an adventurer, you're not exactly adventurous."

"Unlike you," Emma comments, and the woman's eyes glint. "Well, I'll give you that. You are pretty far out in the Wilds."

"That's what you said last time."

"It was true then, too."

"And I'll ask you again, what's your excuse?" She flashes Emma another sly smile. Her lips are stained from the wine, and Emma ignores the way her eyes are drawn to it. "Work or pleasure?"

Emma feels herself flush at the way the word pleasure rolls off her tongue, and god – that's embarrassing. She needs to get a grip. She's a fucking captain, for fuck's sake. A literal space pirate. Pretty women are not going to be her weakness.

"Work," She ventures. The other woman's eyes flash.

"As am I."

"As am I," Emma echoes, a little disbelieving. "Okay, Shakespeare."

It earns her a laugh – a real one, by the sound of it, and Emma's heart sinks. It's dark and rich and everything that Emma loves, and if she wasn't so sure that this woman knew more about her than she was letting on, Emma would be pulling out all the stops to get her into bed at this point.

"And us being brought together twice now by our work," Emma says. "Just a coincidence?"

She shrugs, leaning her weight against the bar as she polishes off the last of her disgusting beet juice. "Something like that." She sets her glass down and slides it across the bar with one finger on the stem. "It was good to see you again, stranger," She says, dark eyes flashing. "But I should be going."

"I'd really love to know your name," Emma says, the words falling out of their own accord and betraying the calm and collected appearance that she's tried so hard to cultivate.

"Would you?" Her tongue darts out to wet those stained lips, and Emma fights hard not to look. "Next time," She says, and begins to melt back into the crowd.

"When will that be?" Emma calls after her, brow furrowing.

She doesn't respond, only flashes a smile before she disappears behind a pair of tall alien men.

Emma's communicator buzzes in her pocket. This time, she doesn't wait until she's out of sight to check it.

A message from an unfamiliar identification number flashes on the display. Just one word:

Tonight.

Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. How in the hell –

The screen blips as another message pops up, the same unsaved number in the corner.

Your place? ;)

Emma almost forgoes the rest of her drink after that. Almost – she'd paid fifteen credits for it, and that's a lot. She chugs it, burps in a distinctly unattractive manner that she kind of hopes the woman hadn't heard, deposits her mug right next to the wine glass for the bartender to pick up and tries her best to follow her through the crowd. She makes it as far as the alien men she'd ducked behind before realizing it's a lost cause. The bar is crowded, the exit she'd taken flanked on either side by halls that turn corners immediately – and Emma wonders with disappointment if she'd chosen that route strategically. It's what Emma herself would have done, and she gives the woman credit for it reluctantly. Frowning, she heads back into the bar and looks around for Ruby.

"We've got a problem," She says as soon as she sidles up behind her crewmate. Ruby jumps, and Emma scolds her, "Didn't I tell you to always be aware of your surroundings? Come on. We gotta go."

"What? Hey, I only just got my drink – Em!"

Emma allows Ruby just enough time to down the rest of her own drink before she resumes tugging her by the arm. By the time they get back to their docking station, she's at least caught on enough to play it cool. That changes the moment they tumble over the threshold. By the time the doors seal, their distinctive hiss of little comfort to Emma, Ruby's rounded on her with wide eyes.

"What the hell is going on?"

"The woman I saw at the last station," Emma begins, doing her best not to sound frantic and unsure if she's succeeding. "She's here."

Ruby furrows her brow. "The one that freaked you out so bad?"

Emma nods, only a little indignant at the implication that she'd been rattled because, well – she had. "Yeah, that one. She was at the bar, and she – look, she sent me this." Emma whips her communicator out of her pocket. The message from the mysterious woman is still on the screen, the unsaved identification number still glowing prominently in the top left corner.

"Tonight," Ruby echoes. "Tonight, what?"

"I asked her when I'd see her next."

Ruby raises a brow. "Your place, winky face. …Em." Ruby stares at her for a moment. "You're sure she wasn't just hitting on you?"

Emma lets out an exasperated huff. "I'm sure. I didn't even give her my number. Hell, she wouldn't even tell me her name."

Ruby smirks, and Emma's heart sinks. "Like you've never fucked a woman without knowing her name."

"Rubes…" Emma frowns, finally dropping her communicator from where she'd shoved it in her friend's face. She's aware that she looks totally insane here, but – there's this feeling that she can't quite shake. That woman knows something. Something more than she's letting on – Emma's sure of it. "I know it sounds crazy, but –"

"No," Ruby says, to her absolute shock.

Emma blinks. "What?"

"It's not crazy." Ruby takes the communicator from her hand gently. "You said you didn't give her your ident?"

Emma shakes her head. "Nope. No idea how she got it."

"Huh," Ruby says, and turns the device over in her hand. "You don't think it's been bugged, do you?"

"I don't think so," Emma says, but even as the words come out she feels uncertainty creep in. "I'll scan it just to be sure, but – I don't think so." She shakes her head, taking the device back from her friend and heading over to the main console to connect. "I don't know how to explain it, but I feel like she came here for us. Like she's following us. I don't know what she wants, but…" Emma frowns. "I don't know. Just. I'm going to keep the peripheral scanners on while we're docked, okay? I don't want to be caught off guard."

"Not a bad idea," Ruby says, and leans over to tap a few buttons on the console. "There, they're on. I'll keep an eye out, okay? What's she look like?"

"Pretty," Emma says immediately, and then feels herself flush. Still – it's true. "Dark hair. Curly. Long. Tan skin, similar to Mulan, maybe a couple shades lighter. Hard to tell in the bar." Emma frowns, selecting options on the console display until it connects to her comm and begins scanning for foreign agents. "Both times I've seen her she's been wearing nice clothing. She was actually in a button down the first time. She almost looks like one of the rich bitches that hire us, but her boots are scuffed. She's definitely not one to keep her hands clean."

"Sounds like my kind of woman," Ruby comments.

Emma rolls her eyes. Ruby's kind of woman is sweet and bookish and a little bit saucy, and they all know it. "No, she doesn't."

"No, she doesn't," Ruby agrees with a smile. "But she sounds like yours. Even if she is, like, a spy or something."

"What, you think she's Alliance?"

Ruby just shrugs. "Dunno. Maybe. You said she was fancy, right? Maybe she's an undercover cop."

Emma wrinkles her nose. "I don't know. She doesn't seem the type. I think it's more likely she knows we're on our way to a big score."

"You think she's trying to steal it out from under us?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not." Emma taps her fingers against her communicator. "I just want to keep an eye out, okay?"

"Sure," Ruby obliges. "Why don't you give me that," She says, holding her hand out for Emma's com, "And I'll ask Bee to take a look at it when she gets back. And you can go do whatever it is that you do to calm the hell down, because you're stressing me out."

That actually gets a laugh out of Emma. She hands over the device and scrubs her palm over her face. She does need to chill. Just a little. There's no sense in being permanently wound – all that'll do is exhaust her. "Alright, alright. Fine. Just. Call me when she's back, okay?"

"Sure, Em."

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Belle says, rolling one of the candies she'd bought around on her tongue, and then disconnects Emma's communicator from the station. She hands it back with a shrug. "I don't know how she got your ident, but I don't think she's spying. At least not anymore."

They'd come back not too long ago. Emma had come racing out to fill them in on the woman's return as soon as she'd heard the prox sensors ring. Mulan had only shrugged, commented that they could take a pretty bitch in expensive clothes, and waved them off as she'd returned to her room with a bag full of whatever she'd bought out on the black market. Probably weapons, knowing her. Elsa had looked mildly concerned, at least, but even she just sat down on the couch and put on some old television program to pass the time.

Emma had spent most of the time she'd been gone killing herself on the treadmill in the little conference room they'd converted to a gym, and she's well aware that she's sweaty and disgusting and probably reeks, but to her team's credit they haven't said anything to her about it.

"Hmm," Emma hums as she takes the device back. She turns it over in her hand – nothing out of the ordinary, just as Belle had said. Everything looks normal from the surface, and yet – that little message is still there on the display.

Your place? ;)

"You've got the peripherals set to alert?" Emma asks. Belle nods, and Emma taps her communicator against her palm a few times before tucking it back into her pocket. "Alright."

"You want to head out early, maybe?" Belle asks, and Emma shakes her head.
"No." That's the thing – she kind of does. She knows they probably should. But there's just something about that woman – something compelling – and Emma wants to know. She has to find out. "No," She repeats, this time with more conviction. "We'll wait for her."

"Cool," Elsa says, finally piping up. It's nonchalant, and she wiggles further into the cushions and crosses her arms over her chest. "Wake me up when your date gets here."

Emma snags one of Belle's candies and throws it at her sister.

Emma does, in fact, wake Elsa up when Regina arrives. Because she actually sleeps that long, four hours on the damn couch, and under any different circumstances Emma'd be giving her a hell of a time about it right now. Instead, she just grabs her sister by the ankle the moment the prox sensors chime, a clear ringing from the ceiling speakers that echoes around the metallic interior of the common room, and Elsa kicks her away.

"Stop," She groans. "I heard it."

Emma's already released her, though, so that she can dart over to the center panel. She pulls up the cameras and sees – to her relief, excitement, or horror she's not really sure – the woman from the bar. She's standing with her hands at her hips, a confident smile on her face, and an equally gorgeous dark haired woman at her side. The woman she'd met up with in the hall at Valkitas, maybe.

Emma punches the comm all button and says, maybe a little too emphatically, "She's here. Everybody to the common room, now."

"A please would be nice," Elsa comments from the couch, still heavy and grumpy with sleep.

"Shut up," Emma says, and hurriedly clears off some of the mess. She curses herself for not having done it earlier – and then again for even caring. And then she doesn't, because it's about making an impression, she reasons – nobody's gonna fear her if she doesn't have her ship in order – and Elsa's laughing, and she feels even more ridiculous.

Eventually the woman – Emma really needs to figure out her name – waves a hand in front of the camera. "Hey there beautiful. Are you going to let me in? We've got a date."

Elsa snorts.

"Shut up," Emma echoes, just in time for Ruby and Mulan to show in the doorway leading back to the rest of the Bug. "Where's Belle?"

Ruby looks a bit sheepish. "Getting dressed." Mulan wrinkles her nose.

Elsa says, "Good for you. Stress relief."

Ruby doesn't acknowledge that, though, because her eyes are locked on the display. "Damn, Emma. Why didn't you tell me she was so hot?" She squints a bit, and then: "Wait, which one is she?"

Emma only huffs a bit, and with the slightest bit of hesitation, opens the front hatch.

She watches on the cameras as the women delicately step away to allow it down, almost in sync, and then begin their ascent. She keeps her eyes on the screen until the last possible moment – and then they're inside.

The woman enters like she owns the place, gracefully and with her fingertips trailing lightly over the railing rather than using it for support. Her sturdy boots clunk along the floor rather indelicately. The rest, though: every other thing about her is just as elegant as Emma remembers. Her friend steps in behind her with a little less propriety and a little more sway, like she's totally at ease on a stranger's vessel.

The woman Emma'd run into takes a moment to peer around, take in her surroundings – and when she finally meets Emma's eyes, it's with a smile.

"Hello again," She says, as if this is a social call. "Nice to see you again."

Emma crosses her arms over her chest. "Explain why the fuck you've been following us."

"I haven't." There's a glint in her eye, though, and she continues, "We're just going in the same direction."

"You expect me to believe this is all just a coincidence?"

"I didn't say that." She offers Emma small, enigmatic smile. "Now, how about some introductions?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Emma blurts out. "I've been trying to ask your name this whole time!"

The other woman's lips quirk up a smirk. She strides forward, extends her hand out over the console and says, "Come on now, dear. We can be civil."

And, well, if there's any way to get Emma to step up to a challenge, it's to insult her honor. She takes the other woman's hand, maybe a little too hard, and says, "Captain Emma Swan. This here's the Bug." She taps the console with her other hand and the metal gives a dull ring in response.

"Captain Regina Mills of the Daniella," She replies, emphasizing the word captain, and Emma fights the urge to roll her eyes.

Fucking fitting, a name like Regina.

Instead she just squeezes harder, biting down with her fingers and treating Regina to the same handshake she reserves for the shady men that hire her. If it hurts, Regina doesn't show it, continuing, "You named your ship bug?"

Emma pulls her hand back with her brow knitted. "...Yeah. She looks like a bug. You know, from the front. What's your excuse?"

Regina raises a brow, putting her hand on her hip instead. "Named her after my first love," She says. "My dead first love."

Emma blinks. "Oh." She's about to say something, sorry for your loss or some other cliche, but Regina just looks amused. Her eyes roam around the deck and she asks, "What class is this?"

"Snow Owl," Emma replies, studying her. Regina's gaze lands back on her own, and Emma feels a flush creep up her cheeks – traitorous, she thinks. "Why?"

"Mm," Regina hums, and her eyes flash. "Old class. You don't see many of those anymore."

Emma narrows her eyes again, trying to work out exactly how she's just been insulted. "She spent most of her life in a garage. I built her up myself. She runs fine." Regina only offers a small smile and a nod in response, and Emma asks, "And you? What do you fly?"

"Bruiser," Regina answers simply. Emma whistles.

"Damn. Not what I expected." Regina arches a brow again, and Emma explains, "You know. Tough. Practical. Bare bones. You're…" She gestures to Regina's outfit. She's wearing another of those pristine button-ups, garnet red this time, under a black leather jacket that doesn't have a scuff on it. There's a small bag hanging at her hip, and Emma makes a mental note to keep an eye on it just in case she decides to try anything. "Well. You know. Polished. Maybe even a little delicate."

She thinks back to their first meeting, the way she'd noted Regina's scuffed-up boots – the same ones she's wearing now, not that Emma's looking – and knows that she doesn't mean it. She's just trying to rile her up, if she's honest. To her delight, it seems to be working.

Regina stares at her for several heartbeats – sizing her up, Emma thinks. She watches as Regina's eyes drop over her form and then back up to meet her own. She leans forward, putting her palms flat against the console and bracing her weight on them. The motion closes some of the gap between them. When she speaks it's low and dark, from the bottom of her throat like gravel: "Call me delicate again and you'll find out."

Oh.

Was that…flirting? Or a threat?

Both, maybe?

Emma feels heat roll over her, a flush that she hopes desperately Regina can't see. "Careful what you wish for," She replies. Regina holds eye contact and Emma decides to offer out an olive branch: "I've always wanted to fly a bruiser. I'd love to take her for a spin sometime."

Regina studies her for a few seconds more and then replies, "Take me out to dinner first, captain."

"Ugh," Emma hears Mulan groan from somewhere behind them. It's under her breath, but – "I can't tell if they're flirting or having a pissing contest."

Belle snickers audibly, and it's only then that Emma realizes she'd snuck in. Fully clothed, she hopes. Emma sees the woman beside Regina – rather quiet and unassuming up until now – break out into a grin.

Regina's eyes flicker to somewhere behind Emma. They linger, and Mulan clears her throat.

Serves her right.

Regina's gaze lands back on her, then, and there's a satisfied little smirk on her lips. She takes her weight off of the console, straightens up and crosses her arms over her chest instead, and then tilts her head to the woman at her side. "This is Marian, my second in command."

Emma nods to her in what she hopes comes off as a respectful gesture.

"Nice to meet you, Emma," She says, and Emma tries not to be irate at the informality. It's not like she's ever clung to it before. Still, though.

"Mulan," She says, and Mulan steps up to her side without her even needing to look back. "My second."

Marian and Regina both nod to her in turn.

"Now that that's out of the way," Emma continues, "Tell me why the hell you've been following us. I'm done with games and party tricks. I want the truth, and I want it fast." The words hang in the air for a moment, and Emma hopes the or else is implied.

Regina nods, though, and says, "Is there somewhere private that we can talk? Just the two of us?"

Emma frowns, but obliges. "I've got a conference room, sure." She taps her foot a few times and then snaps, "Mulan, you're with Marian. Show her a nice time while we talk."

Mulan at least doesn't huff. Marian, for her part, offers her second a dazzling smile and a hello that can only be described as flirtatious. Emma waves to Regina as she turns, heading for the hall that leads down to the rest of the bug.

"This isn't a date," Emma hears Mulan say.

It doesn't take Regina long, at least, to get to the damn point. Emma takes her to the same conference room in which she'd discussed terms with Gold and says, "Alright, spill."

Regina doesn't even take a seat. She just says, with her arms folded over her chest, "I think we're both getting screwed."

Emma raises a brow. "I mean, as much as I'd like to say you're right, Mulan and I are only friends. Kinda saw a spark with you and Marian, though. Good for you."

Regina glowers, as if she has any right to. As if she hadn't invaded Emma's privacy and boarded her ship and demanded – "I'm serious. I think Gold's hired us for the same job, and I doubt we're the only ones."

That catches Emma's attention. The moment Gold's name leaves Regina's lips Emma locks on to her words – not that she's going to let Regina know that, because this could very well be a trap.

Something inside her – something that Elsa has always called her superpower, as corny as that is – tells her that Regina is to be trusted. That same something had told her that Gold was a slimeball.

Then again, a sentient pile of metal scraps could tell you that Gold was a slimeball.

What she says in the end is, "Sorry. Don't know any Gold."

"Oh, cut the shit."

"And I should trust you, why?"

"Because I don't like getting fucked. And I don't think you do either." Emma raises a brow. "Ugh, you're a child."

"You're the one who sent me a winky face. How the hell did you get my number, anyway?"

"Proximity," Regina says, and holds up her own communicator. "I can pick up the numbers of those around me and, more importantly, drop messages without them. I'm surprised you don't have similar technology yourself."

Emma scowls.

Regina gives a little eye roll, taps a few buttons on her communicator, and –

"What the fuck?!" It's Ruby's voice that rings through the walls loud and clear – shocking – and Emma hears a following murmur from the others. Without a word she pulls up the inner cameras on the panel in front of her and sees everyone looking at their comms except Marian, who almost looks bored.

With a sigh Emma holds the internal comm system and says, "Everyone relax. It's just a party trick."

Regina's regarding her with the biggest smile Emma's seen out of her yet, genuine amusement shining in her eyes. Emma fights the urge to return it as she pulls her own comm from her pocket.

[INSERT MESSAGE HERE FILL IN]

"Alright," Emma says, and tucks it back away. "Fine. So you use the same kind of tech that old spam artists used fifty years ago. That's not so impressive."

"I've got plenty more where that came from." Regina tucks her hands into her back pockets, a gesture of good faith on unfamiliar territory. "I'm here to propose an alliance, Captain. I think that Gold's hired several ships to do the same one, and you and I both know he's only going to pay the one that delivers. We'll have a better chance of that being us if we team up."

Emma eyes her. "And then we'd have to split the payout."

Regina offers her a small smile, more subdued than before – an acknowledgement that Emma's just admitted her game and she's grateful. "Yes. But we're a small crew. If he's given you the same figure he's given me, it won't put a huge dent in things."

"Hm," Emma says. "Why?"

"Your ship is better equipped for long distance. I fly a bruiser. It's small, with a much lower fuel and water capacity. A snow owl is bound to get there faster."

"And why would we not just outrun you and get there first?"

"I happen to be familiar with a few of the others on your – our – tail, and at least two of them are just as fast. And besides," She adds, eyes glinting, "Something tells me you don't quite know where you're going."

Emma's heart squeezes. She knows when she's been made. Still: "What makes you say that?"

"Well, you were resorting to paper charts when I ran into you earlier, for starters." She taps her foot a few times as if debating whether or not to continue and then says, "That, and I assume Gold told you the target's on Kliemar?"

Emma nods, just a subtle inclination of her jaw.

"It's moved. I know where, and I have a detailed map of the path there. We could pool our resources and get there before the others even leave the system."

Of course. The one thing they haven't been able to figure out yet – and now it drops into her lap on a silver platter, in the form of a stunningly attractive woman. It's too damn good to be true. "And I'm just supposed to believe you about all this? How do I know you're not the only one he's hired, and you're trying to hitch a ride to snag it out from under me? Matter of fact, how do I know you actually have this map?"

"I thought you might ask that," Regina says, and then pulls the small tablet from the bag at her hip. "First, here's Gold meeting with the captain of one of those ships." She taps on it, pulls up an image, and then spins it around to show Emma.

It's Gold alright.

He's leaning heavily on his cane, clearly in the midst of conversation with a man with a gaudy purple scarf tied around his neck.

"So?" Emma asks, trying her best to aim for nonchalant. "Gold's filthy rich. He's always hiring ships for something. That doesn't prove it's for the same thing."

Regina pinches the image, zooming in on something behind Scarf Guy. A frame, Emma realizes – and there, reflected in the glass, is the screen of the panel he's looking at.

Blue and rugged, almost like somebody had tried to cut it and done a shit job at it.

"Well, fuck," Emma says.

"Yeah," Regina echoes. "Fuck." With that she pulls something else up on the panel. "The map."

It's a map alright. A far more detailed star chart than any Emma's ever seen, including their own of their usual range in the Wilds. Maybe even more detailed than the Alliance keeps. There's so much information packed into every area, Emma wonders how Regina can even read it. She's got it positioned to show that it goes just beyond Mokka – what Regina had overheard her asking about at that merchant's stall, she realizes – and she reaches out absentmindedly to scroll.

"Ah," Regina tsks, and snatches it back out of reach. "You'll get full access to this chart and the rest if you agree to our partnership. Until then, only the proof that I have it."

Emma scowls. "Fair enough." She leans back, resting her hips against the conference table as she ponders. Regina looks on expectantly. "Alright," She says eventually.

"Is that a yes?"

"Not yet," Emma says. "I'm going to need something stronger than just your word."

Regina nods. "That's reasonable. I know you have no reason to trust me. I have no reason to trust you, matter of fact. But you seem like a reasonable woman, and teaming up would benefit both of our crews. So," She adds, "What can I do to show you that this is an honest proposal?"

"Collateral," Emma says almost immediately, surprising even herself.

"Okay," Regina says slowly. "How so?"

"The main benefit for you is that the Bug is faster, right? Better for long term travel?" Regina nods, and so she continues, "Okay, so. Don't just let us tow you. Attach your bruiser to the Bug. We've got a compatible docking seal."

Regina's tongue pokes out between her teeth for a moment, just barely visible, and Emma's heart flutters once more. "Integration," She says. Emma nods. "Interesting. I assume that'd give my ship access to your ship's systems?"

"Goes both ways," Emma confirms. "If we're attached, you can do damage to my ship, and I can do damage to yours. It'd be an extension of trust."

Regina hesitates for half a second – Emma can see it. It's not unreasonable. It's a big ask.

Then again, so is allying with a bunch of strangers.

"Deal," She says suddenly, and extends her hand.

"Not so fast," Emma stops her. "I still have to ask my crew."

That earns her an arched brow. "You're their captain, are you not?"

"I am. But I don't do anything without their input. They're stuck here with me, the least I can do is give them the option."

"Fair enough," Regina concedes. "But do make it quick. We should get going if we want to beat out the other crews."

"Are you going to tell me anything about them? Since you seem to have such a great idea of who our competition is."

"Sure," Regina says, eyes glinting, "As soon as you and your crew accept my offer."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Mulan bursts out. "Em. You can't – you've got to be joking."

"I'm not."

"You want to give some stranger access to all our ship's systems just because she's hot? You can find hot women anywhere –"

"Hey," Emma snaps, "You know that's not it."

She'd sent Regina and Marian back to their own ship with the promise to contact them with an answer within the hour. Regina had actually given her her comms identification this time, rather than just dropping a message without it, and Emma can't help but be grateful for the return to proper lines. After that she'd gathered her crew and broken the news of Regina's offer.

Ruby and Belle are taking it okay. Mulan and Elsa, not so much.

"Em," Elsa begins, and Emma knows that tentative older sister tone well. "I know you see an opportunity here, but…that's a hell of an ask. Don't you think we could make it to Kliemar on our own? We can find a map once we get closer to Hjielak –"

"That woman said it wasn't even on Kliemar," Ruby points out.

"If we can even trust her," Mulan says.

"Why would she ask for an alliance and then lead us to the wrong place? That doesn't benefit any of us," Belle pitches in.

"Look," Emma begins. "You're all right. This is a hell of a risk. There's also the potential for a hell of a reward." She glances around at her crewmates, watching each of their eyes light with the reminder of the six million credit payout. "I saw a picture of Gold contacting another captain about this. She could've faked it, of course, but do you all really put it past him to hire multiple crews?"

Mulan scowls at that.

"We could really use the map that she's got – and honestly, we don't know shit about what we're walking in to. She told me they've got a crew of three total on her ship. We could use the extra manpower that comes with that."

"Still," Mulan breathes.

"I don't know, Emma." Elsa.

"I'm for it," Belle says, ever trusting. "I think she's telling the truth."

Elsa blinks. "That's – well. Emma. Did you get…you know. Do you think she's telling the truth?"

"You mean my superpower?" Emma asks with a raised brow, earning her an eye roll from Mulan. "No," She says. "I didn't feel anything off about her. I think she's being honest."

"What if she hitches a ride all the way there and then runs off with the gem?"

"We're a hell of a lot faster than them. Plus, there's no way they could make that long of a journey on their own. Brusiers aren't designed for that kind of trip."

"And if they try to take the Bug?"

"Her crew is only three people, including herself. We have six. I think we can take them."

Mulan huffs. "Fine. Whatever. But if she turns on us, don't say I didn't warn you, Em."

Emma smiles despite the sass. "Anyone else have any protests?" The room is silent, though Elsa still looks worried, and so she says, "Okay, then. Time to vote."