Chapter Text
Asher was willing to admit that they were…skeptical, at first, of Constellation. After all, nobody really asked them whether they wanted to sign up with the Idealistic Stargazers Club before they were getting sent from one end of the galaxy to the other in search of weird little metal trinkets. Their first encounter hadn’t been ideal, either, being crashed partway through by a Crimson Fleet ship and all. Asher could say with certainty that they would never have heeded Barrett’s directions to the Lodge if the life they’d known hadn’t just been leveled by a bunch of pirates.
Argos Extractors had warned them that it was a high-risk job. It just turned out not to be in the usual way.
Constellation's members were also kind of…annoying. Maybe Asher had just gotten accustomed to flying long spans alone, so the population of the Lodge felt jarring. Or maybe it was the way Sarah was a know-it-all and Walter felt the need to snark after every statement anyone made and Barrett couldn’t take a damn thing seriously. You know. 50/50.
But then Asher met Andreja.
The moment the two of them hunkered down behind a barrier together on Nesoi and vanished into shifting shadows at the exact same time, Asher knew they were kindred spirits. Andreja seemed to realize the same thing, if Asher was interpreting the thoughtful blink of her clear brown eyes correctly.
The knowledge dawned on Asher like a puzzle piece sliding into place: this woman just might make this whole Constellation thing bearable.
And she was a hell of a companion to have around. The other members of Constellation were capable, of course. They had some of the most lauded backgrounds of anybody Asher had met thus far. Sarah operated with military precision, Sam was as cool under fire as he was sipping a beer at the bar, and Barrett hardly ever had to draw his gun when his silver tongue paved the way.
But Andreja was a force of nature.
Often, Asher would lose track of her in a fight, only for her to resurface on the far side of the room in the midst of toppling enemy bodies. Guns, knives, fists; she could tear a person apart with any or all three and come out unscathed. Asher was a little scared, if they were honest. And a little turned on?
Of course it helped that she was hot. But Asher wasn’t the objectifying type. No, sir. They wouldn’t dream of reducing somebody to their lithe, powerful muscles, or the regal slope of their cheekbones. Not even their piercing whiskey-colored eyes or the velvet cadence of their voice. Those were just a plus.
But regardless, something in Asher shifted the moment they met Andreja. And it felt a little like motivation.
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