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.