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“So, how did he take it?” asked Jeck.
Ashira took a seat across from him. “Much better than I had expected.”
Jeck laughed. “Well, wonders never cease. So, we’re go?”
“We are,” Ashira agreed.
“Ervik owes me ten credits,” Jeck commented.
“Care to explain?” Ashira inquired.
Jeck took a sip of his drink. The cocoa coffee in the bar they’d chosen was outstanding. “I bet Ervik you’d get Deven to agree. He was not convinced.”
Ashira eyed Jeck askance. “What am I missing?”
Jeck gave a dismissive wave. “Nothing, really. When I first came aboard the Dawnstrider, Ervik and Lu frequently talked about where Deven could be somewhat...rigid, I guess, in his thinking. Deven is a fair mechanic. He knows what he is and isn’t capable of, and overall, he can keep his ship running.”
“Right up until he cannot,” Ashira stated.
Jeck chuckled. “Exactly. Ervik told me about a time when they still had Deven’s sister as their pilot, the primary computer failed in hyperspace. Secondaries failed, too, and they were not sure how they’d jump out. Deven did everything he could, finally focusing on the secondaries to get them up again. Turned out the core processor up and died, required a total replacement.”
Ashira whistled. “That stinks. I could replace that, but I would still consider getting a specialist to restore everything.”
Jeck nodded. “Well, anyhow, Deven kicked himself for weeks over missing signs that the core was dying. Or course, there weren’t any, according to Lu, but he still was down about it for some time. So preventative repairs frustrate him to no end.”
Now Ashira sighed. “Which is why Ervik did not think he would agree to replace another stabilizer. The aft starboard stabilizer may hold up just fine, but it took a lot of wear when you made your landing on Protelnaun.” She shuddered a moment before continuing. “But I really think it would be wise to replace it sooner rather than later.”
“Well,” Jeck started, leaning back in his seat. “This is the place to do it.”
They were seated in a café outside of the southernmost spaceport of the city of Jafar, capital of the Nation of Aziza on the planet Proxitma Republica. The planet was a hub of commerce and the city a vast and bustling center of activity.
Proxitma Republica was the foremost world in the Proxitma System. The Proxitma System had two suns, which always orbited at the same distance from one another and were identical in size and color. Scientists believed that Proxitma had once been two separate solar systems that, upon coming together, somehow became completely stable.
The system had twenty-four planets, five of which were habitable and life-sustaining.
The history of the Proxitma System was a mystery. It was one of the oldest Human systems, even though one world was home to a non-Human species. The four Human worlds - Proxitma Republica, Proxitma Libertatem, Proxitma Justitia, and Proxitma Hominum - each had their own separate governments, their own way of doing things.
Proxitma Libertatem, in fact, had no set nations or governments, but rather it had rotating bodies made up of citizens volunteering for a year to make necessary decisions to keep the infrastructure, trade, and taxation functioning.
Proxitma Republica had sixty-three unique national governments. Even though they kept separate identities, they still functioned in a way that allowed for easy trade with the rest of the system and well outside of it.
The non-Human world in the Proxitma System was a Zathru world. It was believed, in fact, that Proxitma Azathic was both the oldest colony of the Zathru as well as furthest from their point of origin. Many also speculated that it was through Proxitma Azathic that Humans had their first contact with other space-faring species.
The Zathru were a common sight on the other Proxitma worlds. Many Humans even called Proxitma Azathic home.
The Proxitma system’s habitable worlds boasted every industry one could imagine. Every manner of goods was produced, all kinds of produce were farmed across the system, and the non-habitable worlds were mined for any mineral, gas, ore, and resource anyone could make use of.
One of the biggest industries out of the Proxitma System was commercial and civilian starships. Hundreds of companies manufactured starships across the system - ranging from the very specialized producers creating luxury yachts and other personal craft - to shuttle and small transport manufacturers, heavy industrial cargo vessels, and even capital-class military ships for other star systems and their fleets.
Of those hundreds of manufacturers, six were giants. Those giants built some of the most widely available classes of starships known to both Human and non-Humans alike. The collapse of any one of those companies would have a ripple effect not just across the Proxitma system, but quite probably across the whole intergalactic economy.
About three hundred years ago, two of those giants merged to form the second-largest manufacturer of freighters, transports, and commercial starships. Hensen Heavy Industries had been family owned and operated for centuries, producing primarily freighters and cargo ships. Lucas Spacecraft, Ltd, had been around for as far back as anyone could recall, employee-owned and operated, producing primarily starliners, passenger cruisers, and combined passenger and cargo ships.
Nobody living could tell you why it happened, but the Hensen family, or at least those who claimed heritage and controlled the company, somehow either lost interest or otherwise faded from prominence. The merger of the companies had been peaceful, splitting ownership half between the employees of the new Hensen-Lucas Starship Corporation and a corporate body that handled marketing and sales and determined what designs to build.
Hensen-Lucas had dozens of manufacturing plants across Proxitma Republica alone, including several orbital platforms and starbases. They had factories and other tools of their industry spread across the Proxitma System as well, even building numerous vessels favored by the Zathru.
As the Dawnstrider was an older Hensen-Lucas starship, updating her systems in the Proxitma System was both wise and most cost-effective.
Granted, Republic Schooner-class starships had been out of production for almost forty years, and the Dawnstrider, an R5, was pushing seventy. However, Republic Schooner-class ships had been built for over a hundred years, and while you would scarcely see an A1 outside of a museum or floating boneyard, encountering a P3 or later iteration was not unheard of.
Also, fortunately for the crew of the Dawnstrider, the R and S sub-classes of the ship had been its most popular. The R2 had been produced for a decade before the R3 and subsequent releases were built. In fact, many speculated that the only reason Hensen-Lucas ended production of the Republic Schooner line was to revitalize other classes of ships the company manufactured.
Each sub-class represented a significant change in some system or other. Usually, it was exponentially improved computers or avionics, new engine configurations, altered weapons, or some such that heralded a new sub-class. The ‘Q’ series, for example, came about when a wholly new hyperdrive system, much faster than its predecessor and more energy-efficient, became standard equipment.
Of course, there were talented mechanics and engineers who custom modified Republic Schooners to their own liking. Some of those modifications even got adopted by the company in a new sub-class iteration.
Most Republic-Schooner starships still in operation were in some way custom modified. Since they were not built any longer, the last replacement parts specific to the class had ceased to be manufactured twenty years ago.
Fortunately, many of the current Hensen-Lucas parts were, with either very little or sometimes substantial tweaking, interchangeable.
Finding another stabilizer to match the newest one would be both easier and cheaper than the previous replacement had been. First, because many were manufactured in this system, and second, because the options would be extremely numerous. Thirdly, because they didn’t also need to replace lost hull plates.
Ashira pulled a datapad from a pocket in her pants. “I have already started looking for a suitable part.”
Jeck chuckled. “You weren’t going to take no for an answer?”
Ashira grinned. “Well, I might have. But then I would have made him feel quite uncomfortable about lifting off without doing a major overhaul of the entire stabilizer system. Followed by a complete evaluation of our anti-grav system. Concluding with a total engine system investigation.”
Jeck started to shake his head. “Cruel. Mean and funny. Still funny.”
Ashira laughed, then looked around. They were largely alone, though the murmur of voices across the café, plus noise of pedestrians and street traffic outside, would make eavesdropping a challenge without bugging devices. “Sometimes I am amazed how much I have accepted this as my life.”
Jeck finished sipping at his cocoa coffee. “I totally get that. I really thought I’d serve much longer.”
“You were a Major?” Ashira asked.
“Yes,” Jeck said. “Thought I was on the verge of being made a Colonel and getting a squadron of my own. I figured I’d get my own airgroup in a year or two, then maybe one of the coveted fighting wing commands. After that, I’d either have to switch over to command and control and see about getting posted as a first officer or starship commander - or flying a desk either at the academy or with stars over a wing. Retire a General, and either acquire a personal yacht and travel or assemble a freighter crew and fly like this.”
Ashira nodded. “So, you would have done this, just in another decade or two.”
“Yes,” Jeck replied.
Ashira sighed. “This is not a terrible way to live.”
“True,” Jeck agreed. He glanced about to make certain no one might overhear. “But you had better.”
“It is rather amazing how unimportant that truly is,” Ashira remarked. “It is all well and good to be waited upon and to have every kind of imaginable help at your beck and call, but what I miss the most are Petra and Lii.”
“Feeling alone?” Jeck questioned.
Ashira paused for a moment, clearly becoming tense, as though she needed to consider her answer. “I...am still grieving. And even if I were not...”
Jeck held up his hands. “Wait, don’t misunderstand me,” he began. “Look, Ashira, I feel that you and I have gotten close, in part because we both became members of this crew after our previous lives collapsed - and in part because we share some common background, largely in regards to the military. You’re a good friend, but that’s all you are is a friend.”
Jeck grinned. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be your type anyhow.”
Ashira began to laugh, and Jeck felt the momentary tension break. “I am sorry, Jeck Murtsharn. I should not have presumed. It still never ceases to amaze me how many men cannot get over the notion of hetero-dominance, especially among the military-minded.”
“Indeed,” Jeck agreed, drinking more of the cocoa coffee.
“I suppose,” Ashira continued, “I also should not presume your preferences.”
Jeck shrugged. “I’m an open book. Ask away.”
“Do you have a preference?”
“Not really,” Jeck said. “Dated more women than men or non-Humans, but I am attracted to personalities.”
“Non-Humans?” Ashira inquired, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Jeck said, taking another draught. “I was providing escort to a diplomatic mission for a conference at Cordian Terrera. Met another fighter pilot on escort duty, a Zathru woman. She...well, she came onto me, and she was rather attractive...it was quite the experience.”
“Interesting,” Ashira commented. “I have not met many who have dated non-Humans.”
Jeck chuckled, feeling himself blushing. “Well, dating isn’t exactly the term I would use.”
“Oh,” Ashira said.
“It was, like I said, quite the experience,” Jeck concluded.
Jeck considered what he had learned long ago, but not during his school years.
The number of diseases transmissible between Humans and non-Humans were surprisingly few. Also, modern medicine could treat pretty much everything, in particular sexually transmitted diseases. Of course, there were some less-than-desirable possible side-effects, but it was nearly as rare as there being an issue in the first place.
Further, despite sexual compatibilities between many of the races, Humans were unable to interbreed with any. There was too much variance in the DNA for Humans to successfully mate with non-Humans.
What’s more, Jeck had long-ago learned that no race could interbreed with any other.
Humankind had learned how to splice DNA to produce an offspring between same-sex parents. Jeck knew a homosexual couple from his military service who had chosen to produce a child. They had their DNA mixed and the child was created in the lab. Since these were males, they’d chosen to use an artificial womb to develop their child. But nine months later they had a healthy, strong baby boy.
Ashira and Petra had done the same, though Jeck knew that Petra had carried their progeny in her womb.
“I wonder why we don’t all know more relationships between Humans and non-Humans?” Ashira pondered aloud.
“Probably because of Human-centricity,” Jeck said. “Do you realize how many Humans will live their whole life without ever seeing a non-Human, save in a HAEN broadcast or other picture form, let alone meet one? Ours is a surprisingly sheltered race.”
“That is so,” Ashira said. “Prior to my service with the Shardaelian military, I met no non-Humans. The kingdom does not draw many.”
“Part of why K’tark’ah Exports provides a greater service than just bringing Humans non-Human products,” Jeck said. “Avra bridges the gap between the races. The Dawnstrider is now doing the same thing but in the other direction.”
“Truly,” Ashira agreed. “I do seem to have fallen in with quite the crew.”
“Speaking of which,” Jeck said, waving as he saw Lu, Ervik, and Alvon enter the café. They were quite the odd trio, the metallic android female, the average Human male, and the Human-looking male with strangely hued, abnormally pink skin.
Jeck considered his companions as they approached. Lu was the most independent, wise android he’d ever encountered. When in conversation with her, it was easy to forget she wasn’t Human despite her metallic skin. Ervik was a snarky, witty, intelligent man who was good at his job and liked to play the fool for the entertainment of both himself and his friends.
Alvon, whom they’d not known long, was a quiet, sad man trying to find his way after a terrible ordeal. However, Jeck saw glimpses of a capable, intelligent being trying his best to overcome his suffering.
Ashira Aeshar was not what Jeck had expected a woman who was royalty to be like. She had a very military mindset and was as serious about her skills as Jeck was.
No, he genuinely felt nothing beyond a friendly bond with the former queen, and the friendship they were developing was particularly special to Jeck.
This may not have been how he’d imagined his life to be, but it was slowly proving to be quite agreeable to him.
“So?” Ervik questioned as he pulled out a chair and took a seat.
“Apparently, you owe Jeck ten credits,” Ashira remarked.
“Damn,” Ervik said.
“Did I not tell you?” Lu began. “Now that we have hired a full-time engineer, Deven will wish to spend more on maintaining the ship.”
“I really didn’t think he was ready yet,” Ervik remarked defensively.
“I should have wagered more,” said Jeck, taking another sip of his drink.
“Where’s the captain?” inquired Ashira.
“Meeting with his ex,” stated Ervik.
“We have little proof of that,” said Lu.
“Oh, come on, Lu,” Ervik chided. “You know as well as I do that Deven and Shael had a thing going.”
“Your presumption,” Lu said.
“What are you talking about?” asked Jeck.
“Well,” Ervik started, his tone becoming conspiratorial. “Chandi was always sure that Deven and Shael were, if not an item, at least enjoying some extra-curricular activity, if you catch my meaning.”
“Ervik, the guy at the counter across the café ordering a drink caught your meaning,” Ashira said.
Shael Garris, Jeck had learned upon their arrival at Proxitma Republica, was some sort of distributor from whom Deven intended to purchase their next cargo. Details beyond that were sketchy at best.
“They never were anywhere alone on Dawnstrider,” Lu commented.
“What about that night we were here, and Deven never returned to the ship?” questioned Ervik.
“You speculate,” Lu said. “But you know nothing, and it is none of your business.”
“Lu, Lu, Lu,” Ervik started. “After all this time, don’t you know how much I love good gossip?”
“Of course,” Lu replied. “And after all this time, don’t you know how much I feel no need to know and couldn’t care less?”
Jeck chuckled. This was typical banter between the long-time crew members of the Dawnstrider. He looked to Alvon, who’d been quiet the whole time. “Learn anything new about your condition, Alvon?”
“Yes, and no,” Alvon replied. “Like we presumed, this is the result of prolonged exposure to the Wunatt’morvamitkirn sun. The doctor thinks the pigment change is the result of unfamiliar radiation and is irreversible.”
“I am sorry,” Ashira said.
Alvon inclined his head to her. “Thanks. On the plus side, he thinks I am now immune to all known Human skin diseases. Despite the change of hue, my skin is blemish-free and rather impressively soft, I guess.”
Jeck was pleased to see Alvon so quickly looking at a positive aspect of his situation. “So, the doctor thinks radiation, why?”
“Because even the skin never exposed to the sun also changed color,” Alvon replied.
Jeck had seen Alvon without a shirt on, showing his strange-colored skin to Lu. It made sense as to why the poor man had a skin tone that didn’t look entirely Human. Once again, Jeck found himself better understanding why Alvon was so sullen. Insult to injury, given the last three years of his life.
“Are you okay?” Ashira asked.
“Yes,” Alvon replied without hesitation. He sighed. “I’m free. I am alive. Deven still doesn’t know what role I will play in this crew, but he’s letting me continue to travel with you. Life is not how I ever imagined it would be...but it’s still mine, so I’ll see what comes next.”
Jeck again reevaluated Alvon Gargarm. He didn’t know if he would have handled all that Alvon had in the same manner and be able to just accept it and move on. He felt he could be a bit more understanding of the frequently quiet and often despondent attitude.
“So, what is the cargo Deven is looking at?” Alvon asked.
“Foodstuffs,” Ervik replied.
Jeck had only half paid attention to the conversation about the cargo Deven was investigating at the start of the day. “What kind of foodstuffs?”
“Well, mostly suspended,” Ervik answered.
“You have no idea, do you?” questioned Ashira.
“No, I know,” Ervik argued. “Shael sells many varieties of -” Ervik’s voice began to trail off - “...tasty...long haul...food.”
Jeck and Ashira began to laugh. Even Alvon smiled.
“Lu?” Ashira asked.
“Shael Garris is the regional distributor for five different processed food companies,” Lu answered. “I do not know the names of three because they have changed ownership or merged with others several times in our association with Shael. They are largely sold for long-haul and military starship crews, suspended to preserve them with minimal usage of refrigeration and the like.”
“See?” Ervik said defensively. “Lu didn’t give you a straight answer, either.”
“I presume that’s because of the variety she offers,” Jeck speculated.
“Yes,” Lu agreed. “Deven thinks that at least a few of these suspended foodstuffs might be desirable to several of the non-Human races.”
“Huh,” Ashira said contemplatively. “I would think that each race has certain tastes that other races do not.”
“True,” said Ervik. “But there are several foods we’ve been introduced to over the years that are from one alien race or another and cannot be created by Humans.”
Lu spoke. “Deven has studied information about Human foods that non-Humans find desirable. I suspect he is planning to acquire such from Shael for our next transactions.”
Preserving food became even more complicated once Humans began to travel across the stars. Chemicals, freezing and refrigeration, irradiation, drying, and dehydrating/rehydrating food were among the many methods employed to offer a variety of cuisine to those traveling the stars. There were means of sustenance that could be employed that were cost-effective and did not require preservation but which people liked to eat.
More than that, they liked food with flavor and a variety of it. So various companies sought new and better ways to safely preserve food, particularly for interstellar travel.
Before Humans began to colonize space, they had one world from whence they came. History could not remember the name or location of that world, despite numerous searches for it. Even now, Jeck knew, wealthy benefactors financed the dreams of archeological teams in their attempts to find the cradle of humanity.
What Jeck also knew was that the first colonists, with primitive hyperdrives, no anti-gravity systems, and massive limits on how much food, water, and oxygen they could take with them, figured out a form of suspended animation for long voyages.
Early attempts involved cryogenic systems that used up resources almost as much as a wakeful crew might. But eventually, they figured out means by which to slow the metabolism and all other bodily functions to near-death, suspending the life of that person for months, years, centuries, and - even in one - case millennia.
That was how modern Humans rediscovered the lost art of suspended animation. One of those well-funded archeological survey crews stumbled upon a derelict starship, running on so little power that it was thought completely dead until they got up close to it.
The ancient starship had no anti-gravity, used a form of nuclear fusion nobody had ever seen before, and bore no identifying marks. Its computer core had lost all memory, save one simple command. It kept what little power it still had to maintain the crew’s suspended animation.
It was easy to connect the pods for the seven crew members to a new power supply, keeping them in the state they’d been discovered in. It would take scientists almost a century, however, to reverse-engineer the suspended animation process and revive the crew without losing any of them.
The seven spoke of a world none knew, in a language the nano-translators took weeks to learn. They were amazed to find how much time had passed and just how long they had been lost.
That event itself was millennia ago. The name of the lost ship, the names of the seven crew members, and the world from which they had come, like the history before them, was lost over time. Only the reverse-engineered suspended animation process remained, though it was not used to preserve Human life for lengthy interstellar voyages. Instead, it was used to preserve foodstuffs for easy storage, processing, and consumption by those crews.
Suspending foodstuffs was an art. The tools for restoring them to their flavorful, edible state took up less room on starships than refrigeration, which was why that was the best means for storage and transport of food. Most of the non-Human races had compatible systems, which was why it might indeed be a profitable item for trade and sale.
If, of course, a given non-Human race had a taste for Human foodstuffs. While most of the carbon-based races seemed to be able to all eat similar food, there were still things that - while edible and even desired by Humans - might be harmful, even poisonous to some non-Humans. The same, of course, applied in the other direction.
Common, everyday suspended Human-made foodstuffs could easily be considered a delicacy for a non-Human. Jeck fully understood Deven’s logic.
“Whatever it is,” Jeck found himself adding to the conversation, “if we know there is a market for it this could be a relatively quick and easy profit.”
“Unless we go to a really out-of-the-way world completely unfriendly to Humans,” commented Ervik.
“Do you always need to be so flip?” questioned Ashira. She was, however, grinning.
“Ervik finds himself much funnier than anyone else does,” Lu stated.
“And I know funny,” Ervik said.
“Maybe,” Jeck agreed. “I wonder, sometimes, if you just know funny’s cousin, goofy?”
“What’s the difference?” Ervik questioned.
“If you don’t know, I certainly can’t tell you,” Jeck replied.
“Is there any point to this conversation?” asked Ashira.
“Depends on who is running it,” Alvon spoke up. “But the odds are, no, not really.”
As Jeck chuckled, he saw Deven and an unfamiliar short, round woman enter the café.
He saw that Deven noticed them and started to come over to their table.
Jeck suspected that Deven’s companion was the aforementioned Shael. As much as Jeck was not a gossip, the way that Deven and Shael carried themselves as they approached the table made him question the voracity of Ervik’s presumptions.
“Ah, good,” Deven said as he reached them. “I hoped we’d all be together. Shael, I’d like you to meet the new members of the crew. This is Jeck, our pilot.”
Shael extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“And you,” Jeck replied.
“Our engineer, Ashir,” Deven continued.
Shael and Ashira exchanged pleasantries.
“And this is Alvon,” Deven concluded.
Shael showed no sign of concern with Alvon’s appearance and shook his hand without pause. Jeck had seen first-hand people responding to Alvon with discomfort, so it pleased him to see someone ignore the oddly-hued man.
“We have a new cargo, Captain?” Ervik asked.
“We do,” Deven replied. “It would seem that the Zathru have developed a fondness for fruit pies.”
“Fruit pies?” questioned Ashira.
“Yes,” Shael replied. “There is a Zathru owned corporation, headquartered on Proxitma Azathic, which has begun purchasing a wide variety of our suspended fruit pies by the pallet. All varieties, but there is something about the combination of crust, sugars, juices, and fruit that they find irresistible.”
“I saw the numbers,” Deven said excitedly. “Sales of these alone have nearly tripled Shael’s profits over the last quarter.”
“Impressive,” remarked Lu.
“Fruit pies?” asked Ervik, sounding incredulous.
“It was quite the surprise to me as well,” Shael remarked. “It would seem one of the directors of the corporation has quite the sweet tooth. They had a lunch meeting planned, and a Human taking part in the meeting, wanting to make a good impression, sought out a dessert. Due to a shortness in time and a travel schedule, he or she had nothing to grab but one of our suspended fruit pies from their starship’s galley.”
“That’s rather random,” commented Ervik.
“Yes, but a happy accident,” Shael continued. “The Zathru corporate director flipped out, and apparently completely derailed this meeting to get all the information he could about the fruit pie. Next thing I know, I get an order for a case. A week later, five cases. A week after that, twenty cases...and then after a month they are ordering a pallet of suspended fruit pies every two to three weeks. Now, from different sources, I am selling pallets out almost faster than our processor can suspend them.”
“It’s truly impressive,” Deven said. “We should be able to turn an impressive profit, and we might have an opportunity here to take this whole operation to the next level.”
Jeck wondered what Deven meant by that, but Ervik outright asked, “How?”
“By establishing our first standing exchange,” Deven said. “If these things are as popular when they find their way from the Proxitma system to Zathru space, we’ll need to acquire and deliver more in a month or two. We set up a standing Human export to a non-Human world. We do what K’tark’ah Exports have done for Humans but in the other direction.”
“How do we know that Shael’s direct sales aren’t making their way to Zathru space already?” asked Lu.
“They aren’t,” Shael stated with certainty. “They are being consumed almost before they arrive at Proxitma Azathic.”
“That’s rather surprising,” Jeck commented.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Shael remarked. “I never thought something so...unexceptional, could cause such a splash.”
“The only downside,” Deven began, “is that Shael needs three or four days to get us what we need before we go off-world.”
“Convenient, then, that you’re letting Ashir do some maintenance to the Dawnstrider,” Ervik remarked.
“I suppose it’s fortuitous,” Deven agreed, but he either missed Ervik’s barb or was ignoring it.
“So are you telling us, Captain, that we have a few days planetside?” asked Lu.
“Yes,” Deven said. “I presume that four days is more than enough time for you to perform the maintenance we discussed, Ashir?”
“Absolutely,” Ashira agreed.
“Do you need anyone else to assist you?” Deven asked. “In case the others want to make plans?”
Ashira looked to Jeck. “Care to lend me a hand?”
“Absolutely,” Jeck agreed, pleased that their earlier conversation had only strengthened their friendship.
“Of course, Dawnstrider is home to us all,” Deven remarked, pointedly looking at Alvon. “So, anyone who wishes to stay aboard the ship is welcome to do so.”
“Good to know,” Alvon replied.
“You have plans, Captain?” Ervik questioned, his tone dripping.
“Yes,” Deven replied. “I will be away for the next two days. Jeck, you’re ‘in command’ if any decisions need to be made.”
“Yessir,” Jeck replied instinctively. He found it odd that Deven was leaving him in charge - until he swiftly thought it through. He had agreed to stay with the ship and Ashira to do maintenance. It allowed Lu, Ervik, and Alvon the freedom to go off and do what they might please, if they so decided.
“Very good,” Deven concluded. “Well, then, I leave you all to yourselves. I’m going to swing by Dawnstrider and grab my duffel. Shael and I need to go over a couple things before we...I head out.”
“Enjoy yourself, Captain,” said Ervik.
“Yes, do,” agreed Lu.
“See you later, Deven,” added Ashira.
Alvon just nodded his head towards Deven.
Without further ado, Deven and Shael took their leave of the rest of the Dawnstrider crew.
Nobody spoke for several minutes after that. Jeck contemplated his nearly empty drink and searching library files for games and books. Maybe Ashira liked a good card game, he hoped.
Jeck was glad he wasn’t taking a drink when Lu broke the silence.
“Very well, Ervik,” she said, very matter-of-factly, “perhaps you do know more than nothing about something after all.”