It all started a week ago when Uncle Eli left a short and cryptic message in his will, and in the process left me his vintage Gagarin L43 light freighter. The long term ship storage company that he went with was the cheapest in the spaceport, typical of my uncle. He spent millions of credits on the ship and his mining equipment but anything non-ship related he could care less about. Without a second thought I quit my dead-end job at the factory and started brushing up on the technical specs of my new ship and dreamed of the sights that I would see around the galaxy.
The cabbie pulled up to the industrial section of the spaceport and I scanned my crypto chip to pay for the ride. After paying the fare for the shuttle to the docks at Holland Center spaceport, I was scraping the bottom of my meager savings. The shuttle lifted off and banked sharply to rejoin the flow of air traffic in the open space station. I was left looking at the tan paint peeling off the office shack of a "U-Store" franchise, and if it was any indication, the whole operation was a bit on the shabby side.
I cleared my throat to get the bored attendants attention. His nametag read "Curtis". The teenage worker looked up from his comic book, yawned, and glanced at me with heavy-lidded eyes. I had the feeling that this was going to be a long day.
"I'm here to get Eli Standish's belongings from storage," I announced with the legal documents in my hand, "It should be a ship and some of his personal items."
The kid moved with the speed and motivation of a sloth. I could practically see the moss growing on him. Everything is agonizingly slow when claiming an exciting prize.
"Standish...Standish..." he mumbled and typed on the outdated computer system.
...to be continued
Photo by Hal Gatewood on Unsplash
Curtis ... reminds one of molasses in January ... well, it is January...
Looking forward to the rest of this!