War was never pretty. No matter what civilization you come across, no matter what method was used it never looked any better. The bodies were always the worst part. Especially those of civilians. I’d never understood why governments attacked civilians. Cleaning the bodies and wreckage reminded me why I refused to join the military. Why no amount of patriotism or nationalism, or species loyalty could make me join. People deserved to live and be merry. Even the ones I didn’t like. There wasn’t a good reason to take that away from someone who never volunteered to fight. Especially not someone unaware and unsuspecting. Especially not a child.

I was world weary by the time I returned to my ship. They had planted the bombs along the trail I took from my ship to the meeting with Yadek. While I didn’t think it was a coincidence the mounting suspense from seeing the trail of destruction as security escorted me home left me too weary to pay it the focus it deserved. There were more important things on my mind like checking in on my crew, who were fine by the way, and locking myself in my cabin to process what I had just seen.

For the next few days hardly anyone in the station did anything. Few were permitted to leave and many areas were under strict lock down while automatons initiated the necessary repairs. At first I was fine with this. Sure I wanted off this rock and as far away as I could get, but I understood the need for repairs and investigations. More importantly, I needed the shock to wear off so I could make reliable decisions. When a few days turned into a week with the entire station under what felt like house arrest, it became clear that I would need to negotiate my way out.

The sensible thing to do would be to walk down to the administrators office and present my case. Which meant I avoided that at all costs. The more I thought about walking out into the station the more images of torn bodies sank into my brain. So instead I opted for the route I’m certain every other self respecting captain with a schedule to keep did, called flight control.

“Computer. Patch me into the Flight Control Dispatch.”

The computer pulled up a floating vid screen in front of me and several moments later I was surprised to see the short, smoothly round, pale pink form of a Pantechnian female appear.

“I must have gotten the wrong patch. My apologies,” I said and reached to dismiss the screen.

Her eyes pulsed speckled shades of purple for a moment and she pursed her lips. “There won’t be any need for that,” she checked some kind of display, “Captain Garul of the Pantechnian transport ship Geiman.”

Breath caught in my throat for a moment. “This is the flight control for Old Growth Station?”

She nodded in affirmation.

I cursed to myself. “Why is a Pantechnian filling in a human mund’s job?”

She ignored my question. “How may I help you?”

“I want to request flight permission. I have orders to fulfill and have been patient enough.” I tried to be firm, but the situation had me second guessing myself. Pantechnians never did the work of human munds. We were far above that.

The woman cocked a smile at me. “I’m sorry. I can not do that.”

“Excuse me,” I did my best to sound important and indignant. “I have work to be getting on with.”

“I’m sure you do. Just like every other terrified Pantechnian and human on this station Captain Garul.”

Her words cut me. “The bombing was a week ago. Things should be about back to normal now. We should be clearing out.”

I must have looked confused because her expression softened. She checked another screen and frowned. “Logs indicate you haven’t left your ship since the day of the bombing.”

“Correct.”

“If you had you would understand.”

“What do you mean?” My voice came out sharper and more frightened than I had intended. I closed my eyes and tried to swallow the lump forming in my throat and calm my increasing heart rate.

“The station is under quarantine. No one is allowed in or out.” She said it slow as if I were some kind of simp. I didn’t think she meant it that way.

Silence passed for a few moments while I collected my thoughts. If she were right then I likely wouldn’t be allowed off the station no matter what, and I really did have business to be getting back to. A week was an almost unheard of delay. Clients would or wouldn’t understand. That wasn’t my concern. Events were happening I didn’t want myself or my crew a part of.

But what could I do? I didn’t have enough information to get started on that. I’d have to get a hold of the station administrator.

The woman’s patience ran out, and she interrupted my thoughts. “Is there anything else I can help you with Garul?”

“Not at this time.” I gave her a weak smile. “Thank you for your assistance. Please take care.”

She remained stoic as the view screen cut off.