LELauri
patreon
Chapter 6 - Goodbye, Hello
🕑 Added 2025-08-24 15:10:01 +0000 UTCHeath skidded into the cargo bay, panting but with a smile on his face. Maybe the first in weeks. This would work, he knew it would. The bay was empty, but that was normal. The crew would be taking advantage of the station amenities. Most rented a room to avoid coming back to the bunks for the night, for a change of pace and to get away from each other. Not that any station overflowed with extra space. But there were usually a few stragglers around.
His steps echoed through the ship, still enthusiastic if slower now that there were tight corners to contend with. He ducked his head into each room as he passed, finding them empty. No one exercising was as he expected. No one in the rec area was more surprising. As he kept going, some of his enthusiasm threatened to dim. No. This would work, if he had to he would just send a message.
When he reached the bridge he expected to see the same empty seats, and was surprised to find Raquel at her usual station, stroking her hand along the controls.
“Hey Heath,” she said, swiveling to face him. “Take a seat.”
“Raquel!” He was pacing now, too much energy to sit and chat calmly. “I’ve had the best idea.”
“Now Heath –”
“We can save the Loon, together.” Heath cut her off. It was rude but he was too far in to stop or slow down. “One of the Shipwrights was willing to work with me. But he wants the argo crystals anchoring the ship upgrades. Nasty. I figure, we get the whole crew to chip in a bit. Make an offer this guy won’t turn down. We can get the Loon back in top shape and keep everyone together.”
He finally paused for a breath. Raquel was looking at him the way she sometimes got, like she wasn’t sure if she should be an older sister to vent to or a sort of stern aunt-type figure.
“Heath,” she began, then paused. He could practically see her searching for the right words. “Heath, working with your uncle and crewing the Loon has been a great experience. I made friends for life and got a lot of stories out of it. Got levels to show for it too.
“But the Loon was also the ninth place I signed on. Most of those lasted a few years at most.”
“The Loon is special! That’s why we have to save it.” He felt bad for interrupting again but was giddy that Raquel was agreeing with him.
“Heath. Listen to me.” Now they were firmly in stern-aunt territory. “One of the hardest lessons any Spacer learns is telling when it's time to move on.”
The ground must be crumbling under him. That was why it felt like everything was falling apart. It couldn't be coming from Raquel.
“I loved the Loon. But I’m telling you, we’ve reached that spot here.” She looked around, letting Heath see a hint of the heartbreak and genuine sorrow hiding behind the front of practicality . “The AI is broken. Half the most important systems still don’t work. The other half is holding on by a thread and a prayer to the Traveler. As much as I hate to even say the words, the argo crystals,” she pursed her lips, “are probably one of the only useful pieces left.
“Take the scrap buyout. Take what your uncle left you, and keep working. You’ve got a long life ahead of you, Heath. There’s plenty of time.”
“No! How could you say that? Giving up on the Loon is not an option. This is Walt’s legacy, everything he worked for. I won’t throw that away.”
“The Loon has given up already, Heath. I just don’t want you to go down with it. Walt already sacrificed so you wouldn't have to.”
His eyes snapped back up, met with Raquel’s solid, implacable gaze.
“I know you noticed, Heath. Walt had time for one skill, and he chose [Damage Exchange]. Not [Personal Shield]. Not [Deflect]. He could have saved himself but he saved all of us instead. He wouldn’t want you running yourself into the ground chasing something that doesn’t exist.”
“I’ll talk to the others. If they agree…if they agree I’ll go from there.”
“Heath.” She ducked down, leaning far over her legs until she was bent in half. With a deep inhale she sat back up and looked at him again. “Most of them are already gone.”
It took an eternity for that to sink in. Or maybe a few seconds was all it took for a life to fall apart. “Gone?”
“A few are probably already on their way out-system. Most will have picked up a job. Short ones, to get them to a better hub to find something better.”
“Already? How?” He knew some would hop onto new contracts, that was inevitable, but he had thought he had at least a few days to convince some of the crew to stay.
“That’s the life, kid. Old Spacers like us can see the writing on the wall. The Loon is broken. You’re considering taking out the argo crystals just to keep her spaceworthy. Let that sink in, kid. What do you think Walt would say? The Wright was probably lying about even having the skill, most don’t, and wouldn’t admit it if they did.
“I’m telling you now, get out. Hey, maybe take a spin towards the Core and see something a little more civilized than the Rim.”
With not much else to say, Raquel leaned over the back of her chair and picked up a pack Heath hadn’t noticed before.
“Nobody wants to leave, Heath. If there was a chance, we’d stay. You’re uncle was a good friend, and he ran a great hauler. But if you try and fix it you’ll end up stuck on this station, saving up creds for repairs no one out here can do anyway. That’s not the life you want.
“My next ride leaves in two days. Why don’t you come with me and I’ll help you find the best option? You’re already a damn good pilot, a few more levels and you’ll get the class. You’ll have choices.”
It took a few swallows before Heath could speak, and he couldn’t meet her eyes once he did. “I need a few minutes. Say goodbye, if nothing else.”
“That’s okay. Come find me when you’re ready.”
With a pat on his shoulder, Raquel was gone. He listened until he couldn’t hear her footsteps anymore before slumping against the wall. It was the first time he’d ever been alone on the Loon.
For a while, Heath just wandered. The Loon had been his home for five years, ever since he convinced his mother sixteen was old enough to become a Classer and set out with his Uncle. Each room held memories that flitted through his mind as he stepped inside, painting the empty scene with friends and the small adventures that filled the life of a Classer. He grabbed a snack in the rec room, tossed a few rubber balls to bounce against the wall and back into his hand in the training area.
A quick look at all the other rooms confirmed what Raquel said, everyone else had already moved on. They probably assumed he had done the same. Heath took a moment to survey his little corner of the ship.
When he felt as ready as he could be, he went to his bunk. Carter’s side was stripped bare, which reminded Heath he had a message pending.
Pulling it up on his pad, Heath read through once, then again.
Hey Heath. I’m sorry but I saw the reports. The Loon’s life support is almost shot, the engine’s barely hanging on. I know it hurts but she won’t fly again.
I found a new job on a ship that does long-haul colony supply contracts. Just here for a re-up on their food supply. There was only one listing posted but I convinced the Captain and he agreed to give you a shot. At least come check it out. Not glamorous but its a start, and there’s guaranteed time in the training room each week so you’ll be able to level.
Berth is below. ETD fifteen hours. I hope we can be bunk mates again.
It was worse coming from Carter. The others, they were old, they’d been around forever. Carter was only a few years older than Heath, in his mid-twenties in both age and levels, just starting out. If even he saw the writing on the wall, maybe it really was in his best interest. Even if stripping the Loon for parts felt like spitting on Walt’s legacy.
Fifteen hours to say goodbye. It was by far the best option he would find on Madrigan.
Heath looked around and surveyed his bunk. It was the same forced-neatness of any Spacer with only a shelf and a small cupboard to their name. Bed not quite made but good enough, clothes shoved into the inset wardrobe but still a shirt arm sticking out through the slit. A picture of him, his mom, and Uncle Walt from when he was a kid, hung on the wall over his never-used desk. And a row of jars and flasks, all filled with sand or dirt or rock. He pulled the Madrigan bottle out of his pocket and set it with the others, despite knowing he would have to take them all down in a minute.
Not a whole lot to show for a life. But it wasn’t like he’d had all that much life yet. This was supposed to be just the beginning.
The pack was where he’d left it, in the small chest at the foot of his bed. Uncle Walt insisted every spacer owned one, even when they didn’t anticipate needing it for a dungeon run or other expedition. And like everything else, it seemed, Walt was right. He wrapped the more delicate jars in his clothes. The plasti-glass shouldn’t break, but no point in taking the risk. The bag was padded out with all the soft things he owned, the jars packed in on top of that, then covered with the rest of the minutiae of his life.
No Spacer was a packrat. Ship limitations prevented anyone with the tendency from developing the habit. But shoving his life into a bag was a downer despite knowing it wasn’t his fault. The picture went on the very top, frame and all, then Heath hoisted the pack and left. Looking back from the door there was only the subtlest sign he’d ever made this little corner his home. Mostly just a long scrape from when he thought he might try whittling, now hidden behind the bed.
The next stop was harder. Most of Uncle Walt’s prized possessions had been given out in his will. Most, but not all. Heath had avoided the captain’s suite in the weeks since the funeral. Upon entering, he realized not everyone else had. Someone had come in and neatened up. Probably Raquel. With permissions locked, there weren’t many that could access the rooms without Walt standing next to them. Heath made a note to thank the woman.
Without thinking too hard, Heath swept everything on his uncle’s desk into his pack, shoving it down into whatever nooks and crannies he could find. The papers got folded up and tucked into a thin outer pocket. There were a few more pictures of their family, which Heath took as well. Then that was it. He was out of room, and he had the important things.
There was one final stop to make. Heath dreaded it, but no more than the rest of the emotional gauntlet he’d just run. The door to the bridge opened, smooth except for a tiny hitch right at the end. He walked in, feeling self-conscious for no reason he could determine. There was no one else left.
There would be no one else.
For a moment, a wild thought ran through his mind. He couldn’t tame it, didn’t even want to. It would be decades before he saved enough for his own ship. Let alone for the argo crystals to really deck it out like the Loon. He needed to know what it felt like before he set off on the long trudge of a middling adulthood.
His fingers traced the back of the Captain’s seat. Even with Walt gone, no one else had dared take it. Some things weren’t done, and every instinct from his class told him you only took a chair like that when you intended to follow through.
Before the courage could escape, he sat.
It was…a chair. Comfortable, but no great epiphanies struck him. No genius ideas to turn his life around. Walt didn’t materialize as a ghost to offer wisdom, or a quest to save the Loon. That was what he needed to remember. The ship was a shell, broken beyond repair. Heath had a life to live.
A final farewell should be spoken aloud, he supposed.
“Thanks for everything, Loon. Thanks for making me a Spacer. I’m sorry this is the end but I’ll always remember you.” He stood to leave, not at peace, not at all, but at least he could see it down the road ahead.
“Heath. Wait.”
