Chapter 11

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Engineering

After my stunt in hand-to-hand combat class, most of the other trainees avoided me, and I don't blame them.

How did I pull off that move? Where did it even come from? I've never seen anybody do anything like that before...

Again I got this strange feeling of nearly getting an answer, just like in physical training earlier today. It was there, a nagging corner of the mind that seemed to be trying to get my attention...

"Those were some serious moves Trainee."

I stiffened at the sound of the familiar voice, it was...
"Hi, Brea."

She smiled, "I honestly expected some yelling or something... I'm glad you're not mad at me."

I took a deep breath, "Just because I'm not screaming and yelling at you, does not mean I'm not mad at you for what you did."

A disappointed look crossed her face, "Oh... Um... Okay."

I glared at her, "What did you people tell my father?"

She looked at me, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, the last thing he knew, I was on that ship. So, what did you tell him?"

She stared at me, "Nothing."

"What?" I asked flatly.

"I can't tell you what we did, but we didn't tell him anything, and he's not looking for you." She said softly.

I stared at her, "You killed him?"

Her eyes widened, "God no, jeez Noah... We killed you. We cleared the freighter and blew it before we left... He thinks you're dead."

I didn't know whether to be relieved or sick. "He thinks I'm dead..."

"Yes," she said, "It wasn't my call, I didn't have a choice in it."

I closed my eyes to keep the tears from spilling, I won't cry here, not now.
"It's never anyone's call," I said.

I walked out, leaving Brea standing there alone.

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No matter the Price

"Well, if it isn't good old Mark Price! How are you doing man? Long time." Called a gruff voice, and the man it belonged to looked equally rough, long black hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and a grey-streaked beard full of dirt sat on his scarred and pockmarked face. Despite his old age and appearance though, this man was one of the most well-connected people in the local galaxy, and as far as he was concerned, the man he was meeting with had complete access to every connection he had.

"Hey James," Mark Price looked very different than the man who once piloted a trade freighter with his son. His once clean-shaven face now had a beard to rival James' and his bright blue eyes were now red-rimmed and bloodshot.

James got up and hugged him for a moment before gripping him by his shoulders and looking him in the eye.
"Listen, man, I heard about your kid, I'm sorry. If you need something I'll get it for you, new ship, a house planet-side, some... Odd jobs. Anything, just name it."

Mark and James sat down at the bar and Mark ordered some drinks, "So? What'd you want to meet for?"

Mark sat there and swirled his alcohol around his glass for a moment, "I need you to dig up everything you can on the explosion that supposedly killed my son."

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