Summary ...

Story Excerpt ...

"Now gets tight," George said. "We're shielded, but they can spot us if they know where to look." He glanced up. "I need a break. Whose turn to pilot?"

"Mine," Quiti said.

"Never mind, cutie," the George said. "It's a man's job."

"Listen, I'm qualified exclamation" she snapped. "I've had the same training you had! I'll take my turn."

But Ivan came up behind, his big gloved hands sliding across her posterior as if coincidentally. "Soft like a woman," he murdered. Then: "I've got it, George." Just as if he was talking only about the piloting.

Quiti masked her outrage. Even here on the mission, they were treating her with the contempt they deemed do all woman exclamation she heads older under it throughout training and her tour of duty at Port Tau Ceti, clinging to the hope that it would be different on actual mission. Now she was on it, and nothing had changed. She might as well have been a housemaid.

"Hey, make the up a sandwich, will you Honey?" Ivan sent without looking at her. "I forgot to eat."

The worst of it was, he wasn't even conscious of the insult. None of them were. They all took it for granted that she was along for tokenism, if not pure decoration. They did not abuse her, or force their intentions on her openly; they simply did not take her seriously.