Flynn pored over the proposed navigational data in his quarters. The convoy wanted to take the direct route to Pericles, but that would take them into Tethys, which was controlled by a rival guild. It was likely that the guild would exact a heavy tax on anything trying to move through their territory.
He absently called, “Come,” after his door chime sounded.
Need to take the long way around. It’ll add four days, but we should avoid a fight. The client will hate the extra time until I point out more of the cargo will make it through on time.
Eltie strode in holding out a memory crystal. “Something you should see in the mail, sir.”
“In your mail?” He popped the crystal into his console.
She indicated the correct message from the list that popped up, and Flynn played it.
“Lieutenant Kimball,” said a familiar voice.
“Dad,” Flynn said.
“I hope this finds you well. I understand that you are currently with my son on his transport. All of my messages to him of late have been censored by the Alliance, so I asked your parents for permission to send this to you, hoping it will make its way to him. If you could pass this on to him, I’d be grateful. My message to him follows.” Flynn’s dad went silent, which stretched into seconds. In that time, Eltie retreated through the hatch.
“Steph,” Flynn said; it was rare for him to break protocol. “Thank you.”
“No problem, Captain. I’ll tell my parents to have all your mail forwarded to them. It gets lonely out here, even for intrepid starship captains.”
“Son,” the message began again. Eltie closed the hatch. “First, I want to say that your mother and grandparents are all fine. We’ve got a lot of news to catch you up on. . . .”
Flynn leaned back and smiled. It had been six months since he had a message from home. But why the censoring, now? It’s been almost a year since my court martial.