The Unexpected Guest - Part 7
Travel amongst the stars, see the galaxy... not for everyone
The cell I call home is a small cuboid space. All cells are around here. Space on a space station comes at a premium price, even when it’s a penniless backwater like Quator.
I pick my way to the sink and rinse my hands then turn and sit on the bed. Enough room in here for somewhere to shit, sleep and wash up. That’s about it. I’ve a screen on the wall and a mini-slate to run it, a few clothes and not much else.
A pretty disposable life after fifty years.
That’s why I can let the Jameson situation go. It’s the ultimate rags to riches story. Peter Jameson’s the perfect self-made man, clawing his way out of poverty to carve a legacy in the stars. There’s never been anything for me like that. No chance, or opportunity to leap on board.
I got shipped up here as a teenager from the colony compound when another secession war broke out between the miners and the land administration. Just another kid whose number needed processing. I don’t remember much from before. I wanted a life in space, so I took the ride and gazed out of the window, forgetting as much as I could about the ground.
Looking back, I can see how naïve I was. But then, would a life down there have been any better? Any different?
There’s something on the bed. My hands reach for it and pick it up.
A gun?
