getting through Luna City, and to my front door with hardly a scratch on you—”
“Trust me, pal. I have the injuries to show for it,” Jaxon said as he adjusted his jacket. “What I need is help getting off of the moon.”
“But you just got here. Can’t you just hole up in a vacant apartment until the shit storm passes? It worked for me.”
“Well, I’m not too certain that will be anytime soon. As I made my way through the city, I noticed several suspicious goons on the lookout. Not sure if it was for me or someone else.”
“Sonofabitch. This is real.”
“No shit, buddy. So? Can you help an old friend out?”
Gillette circled back into the kitchen and pulled an aluminum bottle from the refreshment center. “Beer?” he asked.
Jaxon nodded and accepted the cold beverage.
Gillette grabbed another beer and took a seat at the island. “Listen, Jaxon. What you’ve gone through sounds like complete hell. And trust me, I’m sympathetic. But—”
“But you’re not willing to risk your ideal situation to help me,” Jaxon said, finishing Gillette’s statement.
“Yeah. Something like that. Where do you want to go? Not back to earth, I hope.”
Jaxon took a long pull from his beer and wiped his lips. “No, I was thinking of one of the stations in the outer ring.”
“Jesus, Jaxon. Did you hit your head during the attacks? That’d be suicide for you. There’s some bad guys up there, and I’m sure they’d love to have you as a guest.”
“Well, I’m not sure what else to do right now. You’re right about not going back down to earth, and any of the stations in the inner ring are out of the question as well.”
“How so?” Gillette asked.
“Surveillance. The inner ring has really tightened up ship since I settled down there, after …”
Gillette nodded.
“I was hoping that I could start fresh here on the moon, but from what I just saw in the city, I think I need to get away from everything, at least for the time being.”
“Well, I wish you the best, but I don’t think I can help. You’re more than welcome to crash here for the night, but I think it best that you move along first thing tomorrow.”
Jaxon felt fainthearted as his old friend declined to help. He really couldn’t blame him for the reluctance, but it still weakened him.
“Thanks, Gillette. I’ll be out of your hair before the earth rises.”
Gillette finished off his beer and pulled two more from the dispenser, handing one to Jaxon. “Listen, I was just about to cook up some grub. Are you hungry?”
Jaxon chuckled. “I did just have some fake fish in the city, but I could always eat something … real.”
Over the next hour, Gillette and Jaxon reminisced about their time at the GSA. They laughed when remembering the good times, and were sorrowful for the bad. At the end of the evening, Gillette produced a fold-up cot from the storage closet and tossed Jaxon a blanket.
“Hey, man, no hard feelings, right?” Gillette asked. “I’d love to help you out, but I just—”
“Don’t give it a second thought, Gillette. I knew it was a long shot even coming here. I just appreciate your ear for the night and the warm meal. I’ll figure something out tomorrow, I’m certain. Right now, I’m fighting to keep my eyes open.”
“I can imagine. Well, sleep tight, buddy. I’ll have a good breakfast for you tomorrow before you take off.”
Gillette walked out of the guest room and closed the door. Jaxon collapsed onto the cot and was out in minutes.
17
The smell of freshly brewed coffee and cooked bacon wafted through the morning air, stirring Jaxon from his fitful sleep. Slowly, his eyes flickered to life, and he rolled onto his back. He stretched his sore muscles, feeling—more than hearing—his joints creak in protest. He swung his feet to the floor as he sat up.
Standing upright, he stretched again and inhaled deeply. The sublime aromas were still present, satisfying Jaxon’s fear that
“Trust me, pal. I have the injuries to show for it,” Jaxon said as he adjusted his jacket. “What I need is help getting off of the moon.”
“But you just got here. Can’t you just hole up in a vacant apartment until the shit storm passes? It worked for me.”
“Well, I’m not too certain that will be anytime soon. As I made my way through the city, I noticed several suspicious goons on the lookout. Not sure if it was for me or someone else.”
“Sonofabitch. This is real.”
“No shit, buddy. So? Can you help an old friend out?”
Gillette circled back into the kitchen and pulled an aluminum bottle from the refreshment center. “Beer?” he asked.
Jaxon nodded and accepted the cold beverage.
Gillette grabbed another beer and took a seat at the island. “Listen, Jaxon. What you’ve gone through sounds like complete hell. And trust me, I’m sympathetic. But—”
“But you’re not willing to risk your ideal situation to help me,” Jaxon said, finishing Gillette’s statement.
“Yeah. Something like that. Where do you want to go? Not back to earth, I hope.”
Jaxon took a long pull from his beer and wiped his lips. “No, I was thinking of one of the stations in the outer ring.”
“Jesus, Jaxon. Did you hit your head during the attacks? That’d be suicide for you. There’s some bad guys up there, and I’m sure they’d love to have you as a guest.”
“Well, I’m not sure what else to do right now. You’re right about not going back down to earth, and any of the stations in the inner ring are out of the question as well.”
“How so?” Gillette asked.
“Surveillance. The inner ring has really tightened up ship since I settled down there, after …”
Gillette nodded.
“I was hoping that I could start fresh here on the moon, but from what I just saw in the city, I think I need to get away from everything, at least for the time being.”
“Well, I wish you the best, but I don’t think I can help. You’re more than welcome to crash here for the night, but I think it best that you move along first thing tomorrow.”
Jaxon felt fainthearted as his old friend declined to help. He really couldn’t blame him for the reluctance, but it still weakened him.
“Thanks, Gillette. I’ll be out of your hair before the earth rises.”
Gillette finished off his beer and pulled two more from the dispenser, handing one to Jaxon. “Listen, I was just about to cook up some grub. Are you hungry?”
Jaxon chuckled. “I did just have some fake fish in the city, but I could always eat something … real.”
Over the next hour, Gillette and Jaxon reminisced about their time at the GSA. They laughed when remembering the good times, and were sorrowful for the bad. At the end of the evening, Gillette produced a fold-up cot from the storage closet and tossed Jaxon a blanket.
“Hey, man, no hard feelings, right?” Gillette asked. “I’d love to help you out, but I just—”
“Don’t give it a second thought, Gillette. I knew it was a long shot even coming here. I just appreciate your ear for the night and the warm meal. I’ll figure something out tomorrow, I’m certain. Right now, I’m fighting to keep my eyes open.”
“I can imagine. Well, sleep tight, buddy. I’ll have a good breakfast for you tomorrow before you take off.”
Gillette walked out of the guest room and closed the door. Jaxon collapsed onto the cot and was out in minutes.
17
The smell of freshly brewed coffee and cooked bacon wafted through the morning air, stirring Jaxon from his fitful sleep. Slowly, his eyes flickered to life, and he rolled onto his back. He stretched his sore muscles, feeling—more than hearing—his joints creak in protest. He swung his feet to the floor as he sat up.
Standing upright, he stretched again and inhaled deeply. The sublime aromas were still present, satisfying Jaxon’s fear that
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