“Thank you.” Jason put it to memory and set off.
After what felt like an eternity, he reached Bay Seventeen and approached a pair of new L-Class Cargo Ships—the most modern and technologically advanced civilian cargo haulers money could buy. Then that’s when he saw her. A thorn between a pair of roses—the E-Class Cargo Ship Argo. Next to the more modern vessels, the sixty-year-old ship looked little more than a garbage scow. Its hull was like a patchwork quilt with repaired plating as far as the eye could see. Time had done it little favors.
There were random scorch marks, scratched hull plating, and some sections that had no paint on them whatsoever. He walked toward the stern where the rear access ramp was down. At least thirty large cylindrical containers were at the foot of the ramp, amongst several dozen smaller crates.
In front of the cargo, a pair of men stood talking with data tablets in their hands. Jason had to do a double take. One he recognized. Conrad Althaus. His uncle. Half uncle, really. Not that he ever called him by the title. He’d never respected the man enough, even when he was a child.
Althaus hadn’t aged well. His hair had all but disappeared. What was left was grayer than gray. His face had become wrinkled, and he had a hunch in his back that Jason never remembered him having. But he was still built like a war crusher and had a deep furrow in his brow that always made him appear angry.
Jason sidled between a pair of the cylindrical containers, ensuring Althaus wouldn’t see him. He rushed up the ramp and into C Deck and the cavernous empty cargo bay of the Argo.
He stepped onto the elevator at it center, and the old lift ascended. He stopped at B Deck and peered down the corridor. On each side was a row of closed doors—the Argo’s living quarters. Four rooms on one side and three on the other. And at the stern were the communal bathroom facilities. A mixture of engineering lubricant and coffee filled the air. It was the smell of his childhood.
Jason started up the elevator again, and it climbed to A Deck. The galley and infirmary were to port, while the rec room was to starboard. The engine room was astern and toward the bow was the hatchway, which led through to the bridge.
“I’m not sure about the beard.”
Jason turned his head. Leaning on the door to the galley was Kevin Rycroft. The man was ten years older, but he still had a youthful glint in his eye, even if he looked a little tired.
“Kevin Rycroft. You old space dog.” Jason strode from the elevator and shook his hand before Kevin pulled him in to hug it out. Jason respected him a lot. He’d been his father’s best friend for most of their life, and Jason felt he was more of an uncle than Althaus had been.
Kevin tugged at Jason’s beard. “What kind of fashion statement are you trying to make with this?”
“Is laziness a fashion statement?”
Kevin chuckled. “When I taught you to steer this old girl,” he said, banging on the Argo’s bulkhead, “you were no taller than a table. It took dedication and a hell of a lot of hard work. Laziness was never a word I associated with you.”
Jason frowned. “I guess things have changed.”
“Sometimes the more things change, the more they stay the same. What brings you back to the Argo?”
“Yes, why are you back here, Jason?” came a voice from outside the door.
They both spun around.
Standing there, with his arms crossed and a somewhat steely gaze, was his brother.
“Hello, Tyler,” Jason said.
Jesus, he looks like Dad.
There was a confidence about him. A resolve. While two years younger than Jason, Tyler was the more thoughtful of the pair. The one who played it safe. He’d never been a terribly confident kid when they were growing up, but with everything that had happened, he’d obviously had no choice but to toughen up.
“It’s good to see you,” Jason continued, not quite sure what else to say. “Thanks for responding to my message so quickly.”
“As you could tell downstairs, we were due to take on some cargo here,” Tyler said.
“I guess I was lucky you were in the neighborhood then.”
An awkward silence lingered before Kevin broke it up. “How about I leave you to it?” He quickly slinked away down the corridor toward the engine room.
“Let’s talk.” Tyler uncrossed his arms and led Jason into the rec room where nothing had changed. The ping-pong table was still the main feature. Alongside it was a card table, while in one corner was a small table with a chess set, and in the other, a pair of old two-seater sofas.
Tyler sat on the end of the ping-pong table and they locked eyes with each other. Jason thought it was only right that he broke the ice, but Tyler beat him to it. “What do you need?”
“I need a favor,” Jason said.
“A favor? From me?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
Tyler chuckled wryly. “You waltz in here, ten years after Dad’s death expecting help?”
Jason had known from the get-go how difficult the conversation would be. He didn’t want to rehash the past. “If you remember correctly, I’d just turned eighteen. They’d accepted me into the academy before Dad died?” He frowned. “Dad dying was just—”
“An inconvenience?”
“Bad timing,” Jason countered. “If I didn’t go then, I may never have gone. As it turned out, with the outbreak of the war they needed everyone they could get.”
Tyler crossed his arms again and let Jason continue his plea. “You and I both know I didn’t want to command this ship.”
“The Argo wasn’t good enough for you?”
Jason peered up at the ceiling, seeking some divine intervention. “That’s not what I meant.” He walked over to the chess table and picked up the black king. “I didn’t want to leave the way I
