Peter Flynn stood outside the court offices. Unlike courts planetside, there were no steps, no gentle breeze to console him. He did have sunlight, filtered in through station’s viewports in small snatches, but the light from the orange star brought him no comfort.
Commander Crisp had left him here a few minutes earlier. The defense counsel had done his best, but it seemed that the stars were stacked against him. Dismissed from service. I’ll never get back to the Atlas. Never see her again. He thumbed the ring on his finger, something he did more and more to test its presence. It still felt new, a foreign presence, but it was something of a comfort. A hope. A slim one, but a hope all the same.
He took a deep breath and looked about, trying to orient himself, more on what action he would decide instead of his current location. He had spent a lot of time in the courtroom trying to decide that, too.
A ship. I need a new ship. Need to get out of the Core for a while, too. I won’t be able to afford much, certainly not a jump ship. And I don’t want to work for a corporation. Just want to operate on my own for a while. I’ll clear out my accounts and see if I can get a small sailer.
He didn’t smile, but a calm spread throughout him, taking the weight off his shoulders.