bony shoulder.
The boy attacked his food with relish. Byron wondered if Mevine had eaten at all today. No wonder he’s so scrawny, he thought as the plate emptied. Someone needs to monitor his food consumption.
Eventually Mevine’s food no longer vanished at an alarming rate. Byron asked the science officer of his progress with the alien language. The lad’s expression brightened and he launched into a detailed account. His enthusiasm bubbled forth as he explained a recent breakthrough and potential deciphering of the language. Mevine appeared happiest when discussing his work. While Byron was unable to comprehend the particulars of language interpretation, he understood Mevine’s passion. Flying was Byron’s primary infatuation, and the only thing that caused his pulse to quicken.
“ I need to retrieve another flight suit from my quarters,” Byron announced as they exited the dining hall. “Should only take a minute.”
Taking the nearest telepod, he led Mevine to the officers’ level. Byron entered his quarters and moved toward his long locker. He glanced at his computer screen. No messages awaited his attention. Over the years, he’d lost contact with most of his comrades, but on occasion he received messages from Ernx and Nintal. The last time he’d seen his former squad members, Nintal had achieved the position of squadron leader. The navigator and his pilot were starting a new assignment on another flagship. Byron couldn’t help but speculate about his own rank had he remained a Cosbolt pilot. Without his navigator, that would forever remain a mystery.
He noticed Mevine hovering outside the door. “You may enter,” said Byron, opening his locker.
The thin door clattered against the wall and Byron reached for a flight suit. Only one suit remained, a testament to his lack of clean clothes. I need to bring my dirty laundry next trip, he thought, folding the suit over his arm.
Closing the door, Byron discovered Mevine peering at the photo by his computer. He’d forgotten the framed picture resided in plain sight. Byron hesitated, unsure how to respond to the situation. Mevine straightened his shoulders and glanced around the room. The young man’s eyes fell on Byron and he snapped to attention.
“ I’m sorry, sir, I was only looking,” he said, his words tumbling across his tongue. “Is that, I mean, was that your navigator?”
Byron nodded. “Yes.”
Mevine glanced again at the photo. “You were really young.”
“ That was taken on the Sorenthia, so I was probably a year or two younger than you are now.”
Turning to face him, Mevine raised his chin. “He must’ve meant a lot to you.”
Spoken in earnest, those words stirred Byron’s emotions. His gaze traveled to the photo as he recalled the man who’d changed his life. His former navigator had believed in him until the end. He’d never find a friend like Bassa again.
“ He was closer than a brother,” he admitted.
“ I’m sorry, sir,” offered Mevine.
Sensing sympathy from the scientist, Byron cut off his thoughts and raised his personal shields. “Shall we go?” he said, gesturing toward the door.
The other shuttle returned as Byron was preparing to depart. He exchanged greetings with Garnce, but refrained from mentioning the passenger aboard his ship. The pilot complained that demanding science officers were cutting into his meals and Byron chuckled. Garnce deserved the aggravation.
In the co-pilot’s seat, Mevine sighed. “Thank you again, sir,” he said, brushing aside his unkempt hair.
“ No problem,” Byron replied, increasing speed as the ship left the hanger.
The lad sank further into his seat. “I wish I was closer to my brother,” he said, fidgeting with his harness. “We don’t have anything in common though.”
“ Is your brother military?”
“ Oh no! He’s a resident councilor, following in our father’s footsteps.”
Byron frowned. “Who’s your father?”
“ Chancellor
The boy attacked his food with relish. Byron wondered if Mevine had eaten at all today. No wonder he’s so scrawny, he thought as the plate emptied. Someone needs to monitor his food consumption.
Eventually Mevine’s food no longer vanished at an alarming rate. Byron asked the science officer of his progress with the alien language. The lad’s expression brightened and he launched into a detailed account. His enthusiasm bubbled forth as he explained a recent breakthrough and potential deciphering of the language. Mevine appeared happiest when discussing his work. While Byron was unable to comprehend the particulars of language interpretation, he understood Mevine’s passion. Flying was Byron’s primary infatuation, and the only thing that caused his pulse to quicken.
“ I need to retrieve another flight suit from my quarters,” Byron announced as they exited the dining hall. “Should only take a minute.”
Taking the nearest telepod, he led Mevine to the officers’ level. Byron entered his quarters and moved toward his long locker. He glanced at his computer screen. No messages awaited his attention. Over the years, he’d lost contact with most of his comrades, but on occasion he received messages from Ernx and Nintal. The last time he’d seen his former squad members, Nintal had achieved the position of squadron leader. The navigator and his pilot were starting a new assignment on another flagship. Byron couldn’t help but speculate about his own rank had he remained a Cosbolt pilot. Without his navigator, that would forever remain a mystery.
He noticed Mevine hovering outside the door. “You may enter,” said Byron, opening his locker.
The thin door clattered against the wall and Byron reached for a flight suit. Only one suit remained, a testament to his lack of clean clothes. I need to bring my dirty laundry next trip, he thought, folding the suit over his arm.
Closing the door, Byron discovered Mevine peering at the photo by his computer. He’d forgotten the framed picture resided in plain sight. Byron hesitated, unsure how to respond to the situation. Mevine straightened his shoulders and glanced around the room. The young man’s eyes fell on Byron and he snapped to attention.
“ I’m sorry, sir, I was only looking,” he said, his words tumbling across his tongue. “Is that, I mean, was that your navigator?”
Byron nodded. “Yes.”
Mevine glanced again at the photo. “You were really young.”
“ That was taken on the Sorenthia, so I was probably a year or two younger than you are now.”
Turning to face him, Mevine raised his chin. “He must’ve meant a lot to you.”
Spoken in earnest, those words stirred Byron’s emotions. His gaze traveled to the photo as he recalled the man who’d changed his life. His former navigator had believed in him until the end. He’d never find a friend like Bassa again.
“ He was closer than a brother,” he admitted.
“ I’m sorry, sir,” offered Mevine.
Sensing sympathy from the scientist, Byron cut off his thoughts and raised his personal shields. “Shall we go?” he said, gesturing toward the door.
The other shuttle returned as Byron was preparing to depart. He exchanged greetings with Garnce, but refrained from mentioning the passenger aboard his ship. The pilot complained that demanding science officers were cutting into his meals and Byron chuckled. Garnce deserved the aggravation.
In the co-pilot’s seat, Mevine sighed. “Thank you again, sir,” he said, brushing aside his unkempt hair.
“ No problem,” Byron replied, increasing speed as the ship left the hanger.
The lad sank further into his seat. “I wish I was closer to my brother,” he said, fidgeting with his harness. “We don’t have anything in common though.”
“ Is your brother military?”
“ Oh no! He’s a resident councilor, following in our father’s footsteps.”
Byron frowned. “Who’s your father?”
“ Chancellor
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