Myra Lear
By J. L. Young

Out in the belt, surrounded by the dull gray of derelict ships and pummeled rocks, I sat looking out in the vastness of space wondering what it’s like to sail this great ocean.

“Myra Lear?” a voice came through my comms.

I closed my eyes and took a breath of the sterile suit air, “Reznor, what do you want?”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Where are you? And where’s barge three three seven?”

“I got the barge. Nevermind where I’m at. I’m coming back to the ring,” I replied and tapped the thruster to push me away from the deck of a ship, through the passageways, and out the open airlock. In the “aisle,” I found the barge where I left it magnetically grappled to the hull of the ship.

“Dock at airlock two nine-five delta. Did you shut off the locator beacon on that barge?”

“Two nine-five delta. Perhaps the beacon malfunctioned, I will look into it,” I replied as I maneuvered into the barges airlock.

While I made my automated return trip to the ring, I slipped under the comms panel, took hold of a pair of wires dangling, and plugged them back into the panel.

Ceres hung there on the infinite clear backdrop. The Ceres Ring was built in geostationary orbit looked like a belt around a rotund man. It was installed over the course of a hundred years to house workers, ore, and water mined from the myriad of craters on the surface. The population of the Ring exceeded two million people in last year’s census. I was born here.

If you haven’t guessed it by now, I’m a junker. I rummage through salvaged ships in search of useful parts for the company to sell or if someone needs a specific part I run for it.

Once the inner door opened, there stood Reznor. He was tall with a beard shaped to a point below his chin. “I could consider your use of the barge theft. The log says you were out there for three hours. What were you doing all that time? I know it wasn’t work, it’s your day off.”

“Reznor, I knew you’d be upset, so I didn’t tell you. I bought one of the ships and I’ve been restoring her. I’ve saved up every penny I earned. I didn’t just blow it on hookers and booze like the other junkers do. They just milk them for everything they’ve got.”

“You’re under contract. You can’t leave,” he replied.

“It was a ten-year contract, it’s been twelve years, Reznor.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“I might see Earth, swing out to Charon station, then say good riddance to this system. I hear Alpha Centauri b has some nice beaches. Hell, I might even get one of those three sun tans.”

“Where are you going to get money for fuel and food? Have you thought about that?”

“Reznor, it’s a ship. I can get work.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Wow, I think that might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Can I see it?” he asked as we boarded the maglev train to Water town.

“Yeah, when I’m burning for Earth. I knew you’d act like this.”

“I didn’t agree to the sale.”

“You didn’t have to, it was a normal transaction through the company along with every part. Do you need to look at the receipts?”

“Are you paying for the storage?”

“You think I haven’t thought this through. Yes, I’m paying storage. Why are you fighting so hard to keep me here? Once I get my shipment of starter cells from Earth, I’m gone.”

“Good, that’ll take a year to get here.”

“I ordered them last year. They’re on the next shipment arriving this week.”

“What about the inspection?”

“I have one day to install the cells and fire up the reactor. So the inspector doesn’t have to wear a suit.”

Three days later, a chime on my watch alerted me to pick up my starter cells at the post. I leaped out of my bunk and ran to the Water Town Post Office. I signed for the package. It was small enough to tuck under my arm. An hour later, I was at the airlock boarding the barge. Once aboard my ship, I made way to the reactor, ripped the box open, and positioned the magnetically levitated cells into the rod slots on the reactor. A portable jumper box provided enough power for the reactor locks to open and pull the cells inside.

“Well, Captain. It seems you outdid yourself. She looks sharp. A Petrichor class freighter. Small, but respectful. Sleek as all get out,” Reznor said through the proximity comm.

I closed my eyes trying to ignore him, but I failed, “Shouldn’t you be in the office?”

“I’m in the yard. As far as the company is concerned, I’m still in the office. I got you something for your journey.”

“You shouldn’t have,” I said as I initiated the startup sequence. “I mean it.”

The reactor began humming. I adjusted the injectors until it smoothed out and became unnoticeable. The lights in the section flickered on. The readout on the panel was within spec. And a smile spread across my face.

The ship’s sympathetic and parasympathetic systems came online, creating a breathable atmosphere with pressure, gravity, waste management, power regulation, defense, and sensor management.

“I guess you know your stuff.”

“You’re right. I’m more than just a junker,” I said as I pushed past him and into the next compartment. There, I tapped a few panels and the adjusted the gravity plating to match the Ring’s gravity. I continued into the spinal corridor on my way to the bridge. Reznor followed.

The bridge lit up as we entered. It was large with stations for eight crewmembers. I sat at one of the consoles.
“These are seats from that yacht off of bay one thirty-eight.”

“I bought the bunks from that yacht, too. No point in flying in deep space without some comfort.”

“Now, I wish I was going with you.”

“Your cushy office job not good enough? Now you want to go on supply runs and deep space exploration. You’d have to accept me as your boss. I don’t know if you can do that after twelve years of chewing my ass.”

My suit announced the atmosphere aboard ship was within human support standards. I took off the helmet and sat it next to the console.

“Had to keep some workplace discipline,” he said as he handed me a package.

I couldn’t help but be skeptical of the contents. So, I eyed Reznor as I unclipped the seal and rotated the lid away. There in the center were several blocks the size of my palm. Each block was wrapped in burlap and tied with a twisted brown string.

The knot was easy to pull freeing the burlap. There within was a block of soap. The pungent aroma of citrus hit me. “They don’t sell this on the Ring. You had to get this shipped from Earth. Thank you, Reznor.”

He smiled. Something I don’t recall ever seeing him do. “Good luck tomorrow on the inspection and I hope you have a safe journey.”

“Thanks again, I need all the luck I can get.”