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Change was afoot in the Gem empire. Pyrope saw her crew take advantage of their new freedom and transfer away to find more fulfilling work. She expected as much; Orbital Base 41 had been redundant for centuries.
Pyrope planned on leaving, too, but there was still one crew member left.
"Why haven't you left yet?" Pyrope asked.
Pyrite, a short, angular Gem, looked down at the floor.
"It took me three hundred years to find this job,” she said.
"You're a brilliant engineer," Pyrope said. "You were made to do this."
"I never had a problem following clear orders, fixing conduits and relays," said Pyrite. "But when you're on a starship in active service, you have to work with the rest of the crew. Everybody expected me to be social, to make friends. And when I didn't, they thought I was going to report them for goofing off."
"That wouldn't be a problem anymore, would it?"
"Well, now if I don't seem outgoing enough, or if I say something in the wrong way, they're going to think I'm some sort of reactionary! I'm glad they're finally happy. But the new world they're building... I don't think I belong there."
Pyrite leaned against a wall and looked into the distance.
"I don't want to be responsible for making decisions. I just want to deal with the minutiae. That's all."