on Byron’s body. As parched as the desert surrounding Ktren, his energy was spent.
Bassan has contacted me three times in the last hour, asking when you would arrive , thought Athee . If you aren’t going to retrieve him, then you tell our son he won’t see either of us tonight.
Damn your powers of persuasion, Byron thought. I’ll leave in a few minutes.
Good. I’ll feel better knowing he is with you.
Is that the real reason you want me to get him?
He wants to be with his father. That’s all the reason that matters.
Guilt pricked at Byron’s conscience. His gaze strayed to the computer screen and Menernx’s name . I’m on my way. I’ll speak with you later.
He fielded two more messages while crossing the compound, and Byron had to pause outside of Mevine’s door to answer a third. Hopefully, he could go a few hours tonight without his computer pad chirping or a voice echoing in his head. Byron needed some sleep.
When the door slid aside, Bassan leapt out to greet him. His son hesitated, eyes wide as the boy stared at his father. Byron imagined he appeared rough. He’d never even changed out of his flight suit. Not wanting to scare his son further, he offered a faint smile. Bassan at once threw his arms around his father, clinging to Byron in a manner that suggested he might never let go. Byron draped his free arm around his son, too tired to offer more.
“You look beat.”
Byron glanced up and noticed Mevine in the doorway. The science officer straightened his shoulders.
“Sir!” he added.
“Mevine,” Byron said, shaking his head. How many times have I told you? No formalities here. I appreciate you watching Bassan.
“He is always welcome,” said Mevine, smiling at Bassan. The boy broke his death grip on Byron and slid his small fingers into his father’s hand.
Go home and rest, thought Mevine. It’s been a long, terrible day for everyone, and you do indeed look beat .
More than you can imagine. Goodnight, my friend.
Once they were home, Byron told Bassan to amuse himself in his room. Byron wanted nothing more than to shed the flight suit, which felt stuck to his body. His son obliged, providing Byron time to clean up and grab something to drink. He intended to send Bassan to bed at that point, but an urgent message derailed that idea. Collapsing on the oversized couch, he answered the call.
Several other messages had arrived and he listened to each one. Reaching the last one, Byron hesitated before opening the message from Ernx. Judging from the timestamp, his friend had sent it not long after receiving news of his son’s death this morning, Cassan time. Byron hadn’t expected a reply. He stared at it, afraid to let the message play. Ernx had lost his son under Byron’s command. The response couldn’t be good.
Leaning forward, he tapped the message. Ernx’s image appeared, his aging face revealing more lines than Byron remembered. Eyes dark and shoulders stooped, Ernx looked every bit a man who’d just lost his son.
“Byron, thank you for taking the time to send me a direct message about Menernx. I’ve always known there was a chance he might die. Comes with the territory,” said Ernx. He paused, his mouth twisted.
“Menernx was proud to serve under you. I’d told him so much about you over the years. His career choice was more influenced by you than me.”
I doubt that, my friend, Byron thought, his chest tightening. Ernx had been an excellent Cosbolt pilot in his prime.
“I remember the day he sent me the message he’d finally secured a tour of Tgren. He was so excited to meet the legend. Judging from the messages since his arrival on Tgren, you didn’t disappoint him. He was honored to serve under your command. It was a dream come true for Menernx.
“Byron,” said Ernx, his voice cracking. He dropped his chin for a moment before lifting it just enough for Byron to see the tears in his friend’s eyes. “At least I know my son died doing what he loved and doing
Bassan has contacted me three times in the last hour, asking when you would arrive , thought Athee . If you aren’t going to retrieve him, then you tell our son he won’t see either of us tonight.
Damn your powers of persuasion, Byron thought. I’ll leave in a few minutes.
Good. I’ll feel better knowing he is with you.
Is that the real reason you want me to get him?
He wants to be with his father. That’s all the reason that matters.
Guilt pricked at Byron’s conscience. His gaze strayed to the computer screen and Menernx’s name . I’m on my way. I’ll speak with you later.
He fielded two more messages while crossing the compound, and Byron had to pause outside of Mevine’s door to answer a third. Hopefully, he could go a few hours tonight without his computer pad chirping or a voice echoing in his head. Byron needed some sleep.
When the door slid aside, Bassan leapt out to greet him. His son hesitated, eyes wide as the boy stared at his father. Byron imagined he appeared rough. He’d never even changed out of his flight suit. Not wanting to scare his son further, he offered a faint smile. Bassan at once threw his arms around his father, clinging to Byron in a manner that suggested he might never let go. Byron draped his free arm around his son, too tired to offer more.
“You look beat.”
Byron glanced up and noticed Mevine in the doorway. The science officer straightened his shoulders.
“Sir!” he added.
“Mevine,” Byron said, shaking his head. How many times have I told you? No formalities here. I appreciate you watching Bassan.
“He is always welcome,” said Mevine, smiling at Bassan. The boy broke his death grip on Byron and slid his small fingers into his father’s hand.
Go home and rest, thought Mevine. It’s been a long, terrible day for everyone, and you do indeed look beat .
More than you can imagine. Goodnight, my friend.
Once they were home, Byron told Bassan to amuse himself in his room. Byron wanted nothing more than to shed the flight suit, which felt stuck to his body. His son obliged, providing Byron time to clean up and grab something to drink. He intended to send Bassan to bed at that point, but an urgent message derailed that idea. Collapsing on the oversized couch, he answered the call.
Several other messages had arrived and he listened to each one. Reaching the last one, Byron hesitated before opening the message from Ernx. Judging from the timestamp, his friend had sent it not long after receiving news of his son’s death this morning, Cassan time. Byron hadn’t expected a reply. He stared at it, afraid to let the message play. Ernx had lost his son under Byron’s command. The response couldn’t be good.
Leaning forward, he tapped the message. Ernx’s image appeared, his aging face revealing more lines than Byron remembered. Eyes dark and shoulders stooped, Ernx looked every bit a man who’d just lost his son.
“Byron, thank you for taking the time to send me a direct message about Menernx. I’ve always known there was a chance he might die. Comes with the territory,” said Ernx. He paused, his mouth twisted.
“Menernx was proud to serve under you. I’d told him so much about you over the years. His career choice was more influenced by you than me.”
I doubt that, my friend, Byron thought, his chest tightening. Ernx had been an excellent Cosbolt pilot in his prime.
“I remember the day he sent me the message he’d finally secured a tour of Tgren. He was so excited to meet the legend. Judging from the messages since his arrival on Tgren, you didn’t disappoint him. He was honored to serve under your command. It was a dream come true for Menernx.
“Byron,” said Ernx, his voice cracking. He dropped his chin for a moment before lifting it just enough for Byron to see the tears in his friend’s eyes. “At least I know my son died doing what he loved and doing
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