[The dark silence of the room is annoyed only by the faint purr of the clima system and the not-so-faint snoring of CMDR Master. A single LED on the wall mounted COM-CAST starts to blink with its lazy, relaxed tempo. Thirty seconds later a sombre whiny music fills the room enough to wake CMDR Master from his slumber]
I unwillingly pry open my eyelids and cast a look at the button that would end the alarm bell.
I mutter “You’re too far. Sod off…” and turn around, burying my head under the way-too-thin pillow.
…
Except it’s not my morning alarm. It’s a COM-CAST call.
To a number that, if I did my homework right- and I usually do, only three people know.
One of which is dead and the other one is in my bed as of now.
…
Four seconds and two-third later I’m wide eyed, heart racing and trying to answer the COM-CAST phone as fast as my rigid limbs allow me.
“Wha-who… Cough Commander’s speaking…”
A far voice- the FAR far kind of voice you know it’s being relayed by least 2000 Light Years worth of satellites- gives me the news I wanted.
“You’re back in. You’re clean. Thank me next time you come here- at least a metric ton of Lavian Brandy. Güle güle”
And with that the COM-CAST Link is severed.
It wasn’t a real call, simply a COM-CAST Note; you see… if it was a call- with that distance between us- any reply I’d have said would have taken at least thirteen minutes to process so it was pointless to answer anything anyway. So COM-C Inc. just created some sort of terminals that just relayed messages. Voice-mail sorta stuff.
Whatever, anyway… He knew I got all I needed.
This is it. I could finally fly again. Not just fly.
Space.
A string of words train-wrecked into the conscious part of my brain.
Space, Cobra MkIII, Wolfram, bubble, outside, Frame Drive Charging…
It was joy- in its purest form; and it would have continued if the woman in the bed just hadn’t shifted her position ever so slightly.
Ah- yeah. Her.
Another string of words crashed into me, but this time lower. Near the heart. And lower again, into my guts- like a fist.
It’s all curse words.
I sit on the bed and prod her shoulder as gently as a guilty man can “gently” prod a woman’s shoulder.
“Shann… Sarah? Sa… Sabrina?.. hey…” she open her eyes through a curtain of formerly bright pink, too long hair “Hey baby!”
“…what?..”
I can’t really find the words.
“I, uhm, I… listen- you remember last night’s talk about the house, the gard-” but she cuts me short pretty fast.
“We didn’t sleep together. You fell asleep immediately after hitting the bunk last night. Get over yourself, mister.”
It’s pretty obvious she just wants to sleep now. She goes back to the ‘lemme-sleep’ position.
“Just- go… do what you have to do. I’ll pay the rent for the rest of the week. Don’t bother come back… You’re a lousy ‘pilot’ anyway. Ciao”
Well- I guess. I dress up fast and head off for the hangar of the colony base. I get there unusually fast- fourteen minutes.
And there she is, my Cobra Km.III “Wolfram”.
Polished as I left it, fueled, warmed up, station fees paid and ready to go.
As I slide my helmet on- pacing to the External locking door- my beardy face is cracked by the biggest grin I’ve had in a while.
It was just about time…
TL;DR- I got finally internet back. Be flying in three hours, after the update.
Or so…