Braddon was fresh out of lab school sitting on the tarmac, awaiting the first batch of brawns for him to interview. Only yesterday he had endured the terrifying partial anesthetic when they connected up his synapses and installed him in the centre column of a brand new scout ship. The memory, while still fresh and terrifying, couldn't put a damper on his excitement at finally having his own ship body. A few other senior brainships were scattered around restocking, refueling or otherwise awaiting instruction. The CS-780 was a mining cargo that had an engineering team working on the hull. Sam had long since decided that their gender was a need to know triviality and used both a masculine and feminine voice as they saw fit. Sam had been in service for over a hundred years already, so would be a valuable source of information. He nervously opened a channel. "Hey, um, Sam, do you have a moment?"

"Braddon!" Came a deep husky voice, "Finally figured out how to use that com button eh? How are you finding your new digs?"

Braddon relaxed a couple of notches at the friendly enthusiastic response. "More amazing than I had imagined" He said with a sigh, "I can't wait to get up amongst the stars."

Sam chuckled "I hope you can hold on to that enthusiasm for years to come!"

"That maintenance team has been crawling over you all day, getting an upgrade or something?"

"I wish! Hull repairs. Some stray asteroids from a botched mining explosion. Old gunked up boosters weren't fast enough to get out of the way. At least insurance is covering the repairs, but not the lost potential income from sitting around doing nothing…"

"Your brawn alright?"

"Oh, Chaz? Yeah he was strapped in when it hit, so not even a scratch on his delicate soft little head." Sam's tone rose and became softer, "Speaking of brawns, you still an X?" they asked gently with intrigue. Brainships were designated by an initial from each of the brain and brawn as well as the shell number of the brain. That made Braddon's official calling code XB-1070 at least until he could find a brawn to override the X.

"For the moment, yeah, have interviews coming up shortly. I was wondering if you had any advice?" Braddon had chosen to contract out to survey whose main purpose was exploring the galaxy looking for resources as well as potential settlements, archeological sites or even alien civilisations. Even with a singularity drive this meant a LOT of time spent in transit with just a brawn for company, so he really didn't want to stuff up his selection.

"Hmmm," Sam said mulling it over, "I don't want you to go blaming any poor choices on me now." they said coyly.

"Would never dream of it!" Braddon replied warmly.

"You are signed up for survey right? So you are going to spend A LOT of time alone with this person. The most important thing is humour. Someone who can make you laugh is invaluable, and you will be much less likely to want to chuck them out the airlock after the first two weeks. Similar hobbies are a plus too, but not identical, you will need something to retreat to for some alone time. I know they tell you this a lot at lab school, but it really is important not to rush it. Don't be too shy to say no. The couple of duds I have had were both due to a rushed acceptance."

Changing brawns before the end of their contract was a messy and expensive procedure. As most brain ships took many decades working off the debt that their childhood care and education worked up, not many were willing to cop the fee to ditch an unpleasant partnership. However, in the space industry, like almost any other, time was money and brain ships usually had their employer hounding them to take off as soon as they were commissioned.

He was grateful for Sam's advice, they were one of the more chatty ships he had conversed with, "Thanks Sam, I really appreciate it."

"Oh you are so formal!" Sam teased, dropping back down to a masculine tone.

Braddon chuckled and couldn't help but ask, "Do the tone changes bother your brawn?" He instantly regretted it, feeling like he had crossed a line into something too personal.

Without skipping a beat Sam replied with a hearty "Don't know, don't care. It is part of the package, who I am so to speak." Changing to a more serious tone they said, "Braddon, you don't have to change to please your brawn. Remember that."

Sam cut off the communication suddenly leaving that thought stuck in Braddon's head. It was probably for effect he thought, although he was worried that he had struck against a nerve with the personal nature of his question. He hoped Sam wouldn't hold it against him, and the advice had been most helpful, although somewhat predictable. Now was not the time to worry, he thought and instead focussed on the personal files of the brawns that were about to be sent over. Meeting new people made him nervous, both shells and softies, and he tried to settle those nerves before the first candidate arrived.

After 2 days of interviews Braddon was feeling a little frazzled. He had never met so many people in such a short time. There were plenty of tolerable potential brawns, but none that seemed like a perfect fit. And so far only the more obnoxious ones had been able to make him laugh. While Sam's advice seemed great in principle, he worried that he was setting his standards too high. He wanted to be out there, amongst the stars! Not stuck on some base forced to interact with a new person every hour. He only had one more candidate to endure today and then he would spend the night re-evaluating and hopefully making a decision. Pacifica had just arrived at the lift and respectfully asked "Permission to come aboard?"

"Granted" was his dull reply as he raised the lift up to the airlock. He chided himself for the tone, You don't want her to think you are bored already, snap out of it! Just one more for the day. He examined her more closely as he opened the airlock. She had a nice figure, aesthetically speaking. A little smaller than the other women he had interviewed, but with proportions that matched well. And she definitely didn't look weak. Her jet black hair was tied into a tight bun, and he couldn't find a single stray crease in her uniform. Professional stiff he thought... already beginning to feel defeated.

She saluted his column, and then sat in one of the guest chairs, with a longing glance at the pilot's seat. After a few standard questions about schooling she sighed, "You read my file didn't you? Ask me something interesting." and gave a wink to one of his secondary viewers as she slouched into a more relaxing position.

"Well, um," Braddon stuttered, stunned by the odd request.

She grinned, "Such as what is your biggest fear?"

Silence, Braddon hesitated. She was cocky, he would grant her that, he decided to play along and see where it led. "What is your greatest fear?" he repeated, deliberately altering the words in a pathetic attempt to show that he was the one running this interview.

"Isolation." she said staring directly ahead.

"Isolation?" He stammered, what on earth was she doing interviewing for a survey mission!

"When I was a child they thought I had the plague. I was put in isolation for almost 3 weeks. The hospital was overworked with the other victims, so I didn't exactly get many visitors."

"That's horrible!" he said.

She shrugged. "It is in the past now. Probably saved my life. Protected me from the plague victims rather than the other way round."

"You do know I am hired to survey right? If we team up there will be months upon months of relative isolation."

"Relative, not complete!" she said, raising her voice slightly, "If I didn't think I could manage then I wouldn't have applied. I want this posting Braddon, and not because I think you are the best option out of a boring year of graduates." Her voice softened, "I know it could cause problems later, which is why I wanted you to know now, put all my cards on the table so to speak. I don't want to mislead you."

"Sorry," he stammered, "I never meant to imply you were unfit for duty."

"Don't be," she said, "I know I get defensive too easily, my temper used to be way worse!" she said with a degree of pride. "Fairs, fair, what's yours?"

"My what?"

"Your biggest fear."

"You even need to ask?"

"Oh of course!" she said, Placing a fist in her opened palm. "Sensory deprivation right? All you shell people are terrified of that."

"Spoken with all the tact of someone who's inputs have no off switch." Braddon replied dryly.

She gave a hearty laugh. Braddon was confused. "Why are you laughing?"

"Sorry!" she chuckled, "You, you are just so timid! I was worried you were going to let me walk all over you, but oh you do know how to talk back. The months would get boring without some good old banter." She now had a wide grin, all the anger from before completely gone.

"I guess it would." he chuckled. Noting to himself huh, she made me laugh.

"Now," he said with confidence, trying to conceal his timidness, "you said you wanted this position, specifically, why is that?"

"It balances well with my personal and professional interests, and, if I am honest, I need to prove to myself that I have conquered my fear."

"What personal interests are these?"

"Space walks and painting."

"Space walks? I have never heard anyone list that as a hobby."

"Can you imagine floating out in space just getting to stare out at the stars. No atmosphere, or other people to get in your way. Just you and the universe…" she trailed off.

He could see she was being very deliberate, choosing words that could just as easily apply to a brain ship as well as herself.

"I know exactly what you mean."

Her smile turned into a cheeky grin, "I thought you might." she said. "I've seen some of your holos."

"Oh? I am surprised anyone outside of Lab school has even heard of them." Braddon's hobby was photography. Space photography in particular. In the laboratory school he had managed to get some time on some of the larger planet bound telescopes. After capturing the raw images he applied minor digital enhancements of colour and brightness to bring out the natural beauty. Not too much, he let nature do most of the work, and didn't want his images to be technically inaccurate. No spatial distortions. He very much looked forward to using his own lenses to capture images throughout his travel. Already formulating ideas for multiple perspective 3D holograms as well as time-lapse and other moving shots. A high resolution optical telescope had been added to his array of sensors. While not cheap, it paled in comparison to his other debts, and wouldn't delay his payoff by more than a few months in all likelihood.

"I was doing research for one of my paintings when I came across them. Stunning." Her eyes sparkled. "When I discovered they had been taken by a shell-person, even more so." She added with a hint of mockery in her voice.

"What does me being a shell-person have to do with my worth as an artist?" He said defensively. Shell-people were still somewhat exotic and soft shells often had trouble considering them as real people, and were often surprised when shell people performed well in certain tasks, such as art. Their artwork was often viewed with a similar amazement to that done by elephants or other non-sentient animals. "Why are you grinning?" He added, slowly realising that she had been baiting him.

"Oh this is going to be fun." she teased, resting her chin in her hand and looking directly at his column.

After Pacifica finally left, his cabin felt strangely lonely. Quiet. Dull. She was definitely an interesting being, but her constant desire for confrontation was bound to get tedious. At least she didn't seem vengeful, and she was definitely able to be professional when needed. Not only had she heard of his holos, but she had praised him wholeheartedly! A little flattery sure does go a long way. It was making him feel all warm just thinking about it. His classmates back in Lab school had shown some polite interest of course, but never any enthusiasm, well, except for Cindy. Life with Pacifica was unlikely to be boring, and the other candidates didn't leave much of an impact. Determined not to rush his decision he decided to wait until morning to call it in and spent a bit of time discussing candidates with some of his classmates who were also in the process of picking their first brawn.

"They should really start the interviews before connection day." Flax was telling him. "Makes no sense wasting our time when we are out here ready to go."

"Yeah." he agreed. "Really stacks on the pressure."

"Although having your brawn there on installation day? Not sure I would want them seeing me like that."

He shuddered at the memory sending some muddy static through the comm link, the memory was still fresh in his mind. "Thanks for the chat Flax, but now I think I might hit the hay, so to speak."

"What an archaic expression." He mused. "Funny what sticks around in language. Want me to keep an eye out?"

"It's alright. Who would try to jack a brain ship on Rigel base?"

To put his mind at ease he raised the lift, locked the door, and set up a perimeter scan to wake him if anyone, or anything, approached. Sleep was a bit of a taboo subject when it came to shell people. even brawns were told during training that most brains didn't require sleep, and it was the default assumption in most circumstances that as a brain ship you didn't need to sleep at all. You don't want criminals to know when a city is sleeping, or when a ship has its guard down. It can lead to all sorts of problems. While some brains chose to divulge sleep patterns to their brawns, many still chose to keep it secret.

After waking Braddon felt groggy for about 10 seconds as he flushed hormones from his system. A small dose of adrenaline mixed with a bit of extra nutrients picked him up right away. Better than a coffee any day, he thought to himself. He went over the files one last time, but was still drawn to the fiery Pacifica. He called up Central Command the second they opened for business to confirm his choice. 30 minutes later Pacifica was waltzing in the airlock case in one hand and a datahedron in the other. Grin spreading from ear to ear.

"Knew you'd pick me." She said confidently.

"No you didn't! That arrogance alone almost lost you the spot." He teased.

"Ha! I was the best choice and you knew it!" She called from her cabin only briefly nodding to his pillar on the way in. Where was that formality from yesterday? What have I got myself into? She reemerged, still clutching the datahedron. With an almost familiar cheeky grin she dropped it into his reader and said, "And now, for our first mission."

The first six months flew by without a hitch. Their mission was to head out to the Demitri sector tagging planets out along the rim. They had a hold full of satellites that they would leave orbiting their finds that would continue to gather information and send it back at intervals, as well as alert nearby ships to its claim status. This work had previously been done by drone ships and a pilot who would undergo coldsleep, but they often missed important details that a B&B team was unlikely to. If there were signs of intelligent life, non-spacefaring, there were to launch a satellite and then leave well enough alone and contact xeno to come and perform first contact. If structures were present, but uninhabited, A&E were to be informed, with as much detail as possible about climate, atmosphere, plant and animal life. If it was uninhabited, or inhabited by non-sentients, an assessment of natural resources as well as potential for settlement was to be conducted. This involved scans from orbit as well as an occasional planetfall to take soil, air, plant, and other samples. Braddon had a specialty coring tool in one of the holds that was used to get rock samples up to 1km down for mining companies to examine. Amazing what lasers made possible these days.

Singularity points made their journey much faster than it had been for older survey ships, but there was still usually weeks in transit between systems and over a month back to the nearest base. Pacifica was handling the relative isolation very well. She spent her waking hours painting, exercising, reading and having playful arguments with Braddon. They had a semi-formal debate once a week with the loser getting to choose the next topic. "Otherwise the loser will just keep on losing!" she had said in such a tone that Braddon had been sure that she fully expected him to have been the one stuck in that role. They debated serious topics such as capitalism vs communism, immortality and at what age people should be allowed full autonomy, as well as silly trivial topics such as who was the best pairing in her current romance novel. If they couldn't decide on sides, then Braddon made the computer assign one randomly, which she would often accuse him of fixing. She spoke with such fire and assertion, but never in a cruel manner, although she was known to gloat after. It was inspiring really, and Braddon occasionally conceded before playing all his cards simply because she had put him in awe. After a particularly heated debate about a land dispute that they had seen on a newscast he had told her "You really missed your calling, you know?"

"And what makes you think that?"

"You would have made an excellent lawyer."

"Ugh! But law is so tedious! All those ridiculous rules. And then I would have to hang out with criminals instead of you."

She was a creature of habit. Usually sticking to a strict routine. She took a space walk once a week, unless they were planetside. This wasn't exactly regulation, as it was much safer for her inside his hull, but she didn't use up any more oxygen in the suit than in the hull so Braddon allowed it. She usually requested that he cut off audio and visual circuits so she could be allowed to relax more fully. Again, not exactly regulation, as in dangerous situations he was meant to always maintain contact, but he respected her right to privacy and settled for monitoring her vitals including heart rate through the suit sensors. It usually slowed a little when she was out there, a sign that this relaxation technique was working for her. One time she had given him a fright by not returning to the airlock at the agreed upon time. He had a few blind spots in his external sensors, and couldn't get a visual on her. There was no real reason for her to rush back…probably just taking her time. Her heartbeat was steady, not showing any distress, but 20 minutes later she was still missing. He had made contact then only to find her fast asleep. She had been quite embarrassed. He still remembered the crimson hue her cheeks had taken.

She had studied biology before applying to the brawn program. She loved visiting every planet with plant life and took as many samples as possible. It was impractical to keep a large quantity of live samples, but she had gathered plenty of seeds, flowers, leaves, roots and other foliage which had been frozen or dehydrated and vacuum sealed at her discretion. As these worlds were unexplored, they had no idea what sort of effects contact with humans may cause, so she maintained a strict quarantine. New plants had many potential applications as medicines, food sources, or even just aesthetic design.