I looked down at my dish, beer-battered haddock with lemon, tartar sauce and a small garnish with large steak cut chips and tomato sauce with mushy peas on the side. It has been a while since I’ve had something like this. Dominic calls it Age of Asian right now because I’m cooking a lot of rice-based dishes, which is totally wrong and I keep saying it’s a bit racist but he claims ‘Ethnic banter’.

The reason we’re here instead of Italian is that it’s closed, no explanation as to why but that’s just how it is. I tucked away into my food.

“So what have you been up to recently?”

“Well I got Dominic a new game, but he couldn’t play it because he wasn’t old enough.” I chuckled at the end of that.

“Why? That’s never stopped him before.”

“That’s exactly what I said! Then he called me, uh… I think he called me a ‘muscle fuck.’”

She burst out laughing at this, covering her mouth. I was currently having my second lunch in a not too busy pub, they don’t really start to pick up until about four at the earliest.

“So how’s work?”

“It’s fine.” Which was left at that.

“Okay fine, you can say what you want about how I used to be. I’m not gonna be a triggered little shit. What was I like?”

“Well… Not much different to what you are now; friendly, non-judgemental only a couple of things have changed you used to be more confident and proactive.”

“Well, what do you expect? I-”

“Stop trying to defend yourself, I know okay. You don’t need to tell me why, I don’t blame you.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I, it's just can’t remember you know, I’ve done all these things and knew all these people. Then these guys tell me that I was in charge when it happened, that some of the guys that were mine or his command died, that I had been just as close to dying as them but survived and I just don’t know.”

“Eric, it’s not your fault.”

“I don’t know that, I don’t remember. I spend a lot of time thinking. Maybe I had died out there or maybe I should’ve. I don’t know how to or why I feel the need to take responsibility for their deaths, I just don’t know.” I stare deeply into my dish, searching the mushy peas for answers. “When it’s just Dom and me everything is fine even if all he does is just play games all day.” Amelia keeps quiet, I stop clenching the tableware.

“Sorry.” I whisper out.

“It’s okay, in fact, I have-”

“Shut up, just shut up, shut up.” The Black Eyed Peas starts playing and Amelia whips out her phone.

“... Okay, I’m on my way.”

“Work?”

“Yeah, one of the cars on patrol burst a tire so we need to cover them while they take it to the shop.”

“What were you gonna say?” I asked. She pauses for a moment while she gathers her bag and jacket.

“I’ll tell you next time.”

“That’s kinda sly.”

“See you later.” She moves quickly out of the pub. Shit, she didn’t pay her half.

                                                                           ⚶

I logged back in and it had roughly been around five and a half hours, that’s roughly an hour and a half more than Earth to Pluto. Which doesn’t sound a lot especially when traveling at the speed of light. But if you were to fly a real-life rocket to Pluto from Earth it would take around twelve years. So yeah, we are incredibly lucky that Martin and his bud Frank fixed up the shields and by the looks of it, they removed the torque tool and fixed up my suit computer.

The plan was to sell the cargo, split the earnings to get everyone back home. We can also sell information on the station and the tentacle monster that lives there.

“Boss, I got landing permission, station security is meeting us there to verify ship, personnel, and cargo.” Alen tells me through my earpiece.

“Roger.”

“Oh, and boss, if or when we land I need to have a conversation with you.”

“Sure Alen.”

We were brought in to Docking Bay HB44, the station’s docking bays branched out like messy but organized routes. We passed through an airlock that quickly shut us in after, tension seemed high in the cargo bay.

You would need bolt cutters to cut through the tension it was that thick. But it wasn’t my problem they were worried, I’m not here to coddle them or to inspire them. Station security was keen to meet us at the landing pad, I think that would be logical considering we’re probably in a known raider ship.

“Alen patch me into the ship's external cameras.”

“Aye aye.”

I survey the surroundings and get a good look at the security. The uniform seems to be a skintight black wetsuit like the one I’m wearing but the main difference is the mix of lightweight metal and hardened plastic covering vital areas. The helmet however was the only part I didn’t like. Once again they had a type of see-through material from the lips upwards to the eyebrows, shaped more like a rectangle than a square. The length stretched from ear to ear allowing peripheral vision. But in other words, it looked ugly and was a weak point for bullets. I’d probably had died if a bullet struck my visor instead of me smashing my head off the ceiling.

“Alright Boss, getting a transmission…” Alen went quiet for a minute. “They want us to dismount and get inspected.”

“Okay, let’s go.” I make my way to the rear entrance, but a hand grabs my shoulder.

“You’re still suffering from amnesia aren’t you?” Martin asks somewhat rhetorically and I nod. “I’ll stick with you, guardianship is a bitch sometimes.”

“What do you mean?” I slam the button to open the cargo area doors with my good arm.

“Since you woke me up first and you don’t know who you are, I’m technically your guardian.” He grinned.

“Want me to call you Nanny Mcphee then?”

“Call me who?” The ramp lowers all the way down and everyone heads down it.

“Nanny Mcphee, it’s an old movie.” Martin looked like he was about to reply but before that, we were approached by the security team.

“Masks and helmets off, any weapons you have will be taken from you temporarily. Stand-by for iris, facial, and fingerprint scans.”

We stand in a line, the guards have taken a knee and they’re rotating between pointing their weapons at us and resting. One by one we’re taken away to be examined, Alen, the kid, the next one would be me and Martin would come with me.

“Did that kid have amnesia too?” I ask Martin.

“I dunno.” He shrugs, we’re all still facing the protection detail but we’ve long since put our hands down and we’re just standing there waiting.

“Stop talking!” A voice shouts at us, Martin isn’t too sure how to act but I think it’s just funny.

“Next!”

“I’ve got amnesia from a cryo, I need my ‘guardian’ with me!” I smirked.

“No, stand over there!” A guardsman points over to a place a few meters away from the rest. I shrug at him and walk over to the location.

“Remove your helmet, turn it upside and shake it.” I follow the orders and begin shaking it with one hand. Which is pretty difficult to be honest and surprisingly none of the visor glass that cracked and vacuumed me came loose.

“Throw it over.” I did so he inspected it. “Did a number on it didn’t ya?” Asked more as an answer than a question.

“It’s wear and tear.”

“Boots off, gloves off, harness off, everything but your skinsuit.”

“My arm is broken” I replied rather lamely. He looks back at the squad and one of them jogged over, he must have used the internal microphone. The one that was talking to me originally walked around me and came at me from the side, where my broken arm is. Thinking about it, it made sense because then his mate didn’t have as much as a risk to shoot him.

He pushed his hands through my hair, checked my collar for small items, made me open my mouth, and had a look inside. Together we found in my skinsuit a small pamphlet with all my personal details.

Who I worked for, date since the first day, my name, my birthday, my nationality, the position, blood group, and religion.

“Can I see?” he gave me this incredulous look. “I’ve got an amnesia man, I didn’t even know it was there.

“Solstice Security, 3031-4-17, Eric Spectre, 3010-10-23, United Systems Alliance, Security guard, A Neg, Atheist.” He read aloud for me to hear.

“Thanks.”

“Do you even want the kit anymore?”

I look at the rips and tears in my old bright orange jumpsuit, I’m lucky that the skinsuit has a gel that fills in cuts otherwise space would have killed me. Some of the harness straps have been cut off and the helmet does nothing to protect me anymore from space. Overall my shits fucked.

“Not really, might get five quid if I recycle it though.” No laugh, I can see the man’s face through the visor but his stony eyes give nothing away, but I don’t avoid eye contact.

“Move to the other side of the dock.” Tempted to say something to annoy him but I keep my mouth shut this time and carry whatever clear plastic bag of personal belongings has been cataloged and he takes a black bag of shit with my name on it over to where the other ones are. I walk over and stand next to Martin and decide to continue our conversation from before.

“Kid, you got amnesia as well?” I asked.

“Nah I’m a player.” He replied, I give a stony stare back and filled with utter disappointment and contempt with his failure to understand my buzzword. “Whatever man.” He shrugs and finds something interesting to look at.

“Well, what’s our plan?” I asked Martin.

“Don’t sign anything, wait until you have a legal rep, don’t give any details, and keep your cards close,” Martin advised

“Why? Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know cooperative?”

“Yeah that’s true for me and the rest of us, however since you were the first person awake on the shit horror show that means all salvage rights go to you.”

“So these guys are looking for a free windfall?”

“Yeah.”

“Did we get everyone off?”

“It’s what you prioritized so yeah.”

“So let’s sell it, I sure as hell don’t want to go back there.”

“Then don’t sign or say anything until we’re released. They have us for like, three days.”

“I thought it was something like twenty-four hours?”

“Massive population boom, cryogenic sleep, lots of identity fraud, and dead people coming back to life.” Martin shrugged and I suppose it made sense, gave the officials some more time to work out if people are who they say they are.

“This is going to be a ball-ache isn’t it…” I sighed.

“Glad it’s you and not me.”