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Atsani Risk Control's merc bunkhouses weren't bad for corporate timeshare apartments. For a pittance from her paycheck, Rai rotated between four flophouses throughout the solar system - two on the Arpallian homeworld, one on Hrönn station above Fera, and one in Trium, the Feran capitol. Each timeshare got split between two other mercs she had never met in person, and probably never would meet, since ship assignments and schedules were often confidential information and they were all on different vessels. Because of this, it was a common axiom around the company that you never left something at the timeshare that you weren't ready to lose to theft or use. Thankfully, Rai had lucked out and gotten some pretty decent roomies who took care of their homes and didn't leave a mess. Little blessings.

Red, a gray fox medic out of a small village on Arpall, liked video games, so she had a different console at each place to keep things fresh. None of them needed to buy exercise equipment either, because Terry, a dyed-in-the-wool boarding operations and defensive specialist from Fera, had the girls covered, stocking the place with diverse weights and decent quality resistance bands. Everyone was good with sharing their non-perishables and hobby stuff, as long as you restocked their food and took care of their things. They'd communicated often, leaving messages for each other on the communal living room laptops. They recorded lots of vids for the typical "did you throw out my toothbrush" roommate stuff, or "hey, I need this, keep an eye out for it." You often knew months in advance where your next set would be, so you could send along a request to the next tenant when you needed to; even though you never knew when they would show up, you knew they'd probably get there before you did.

Terry, their resident MRE freak, liked to stock up on meals. As a former Navy MP goon, Rai had eaten pretty well on her voyages, rarely having an excuse for rations, and the Navy ones sucked. But Marine MREs? Those were a rare, guilty pleasure for the vixen. "FOR RAI," the note read, on a stack of five in the cupboard. Bless his beautiful little crayon-chomping heart.