* * * * *
Eiron awakened in his barracks. Were they his? They seemed familiar, and there was a still of him in his maroon and grey uniform by the sleeping panel, a still taken on graduation day. Oh yes, now he remembered! He had lived in Nayin for so long that the training academy in Destria was a distant memory, a memory best kept at a distance!
It was too bad his mother and father hadn’t been there to see him; they had died of starvation—two more deaths that the Tiasennians could have prevented, if they had understood the meaning of honoring a treaty, if they had understood the meaning of human decency, of showing compassion to the misfortunate. He stopped this thought.
Eiron clambered out of the sleeping panel and went to the closet to put on his uniform. It hung just as he had left it, slightly askew, leaning against the far back panel, where he had put it—only yesterday? How long had he been asleep?
I’ve got to remember to get some rest before I collapse for thirty hours. What a waste of the day off, he thought darkly.
Ekasi Eiron Erlenkov hurried into his uniform and tore into the corridor outside, racing down the halls to the docking bay where he was to join his unit.
His friends and wing mates Corraika, a stout, strong man and Fierdan, a tall, long-armed giant of a man with a wry sense of humor, appeared momentarily confused when he raced to a halt and greeted them, nonchalant, just inside the docking bay.
For a second, they just stared at him. Who was this man who seemed so familiar?
Then the moment’s hesitation disappeared; a reminiscent expression appeared on their faces, and they smiled and made jokes at him. Of course! This was Erlenkov, their friend since the early days of training in Nayin, long ago! Why had they hesitated to head towards him?
“Looks like we’ve got to pick up the shipment from the dome,” Corraika informed them with an indifferent shrug of his massive shoulders. “Last one to his plane has to drive the loader.” He said and bolted quickly, surprisingly fast for a man his size.
“Just you try to catch me.” Eiron laughed, racing past him as fast as he could. Then, as Eiron ran, an unwanted recollection distracted his thoughts.
In his mind’s eye, he saw the image of a broken pipe dangling high above within a network of pipes and conduits and suspended from an arced ceiling. Water flooded from the pipe until, strained under the force of the weight, it began to break away from the ceiling. A section of the pipe tore away abruptly, then plummeted downward...
Eiron stopped mid-stride, his head throbbing worse than any urbin spirits hangover.
Corraika and Fierdan sailed past him and reached the transport.
“Hey, Erlenkov! You run like an old lady!” Corraika jeered mirthfully from the transport ahead. “Who gets to drive the loader, now?”
Eiron shook off the momentary memory assaulting him, and as it retreated, his headache vanished.
“Laugh all you want, but I’m the one who’s got the shuttle key.” Eiron said with a triumphant smile, dangling the keychain.
“Fierdan—I thought you had it.” Corraika said, turning to his friend. Fierdan shrugged.
“Hey, don’t ask me how Erlenkov ended up with it. I thought you were the last one to fly the shuttle.”
“I was.” Corraika said, momentarily confused, then he turned to Erlenkov. “You’re a real pain in the ass sometimes, you know that?” he said in amusement, relinquishing the pilot seat to Eiron.
“I know, but what would you fellas do without me?” Eiron said, laughing along with Fierdan at the grimace on Corraika’s face as he strapped himself into the loader.
The Last Immortal : Book One of Seeds of a Fallen Empire Page 73