The three of them were sitting around the mess-table in the ship’s tiny galley. The table was big enough for seven, in theory, but it consumed so much of the room’s space that if you were to be preparing a meal you’d be forced to sit on the table’s wrap-around bench or the table itself to do so comfortably. This room was better lit than the rest of the ship, at least, with three bright florescent lights bolted to the ceiling between the pipes that ran the length and breadth of the ship. Those same pipes seemed more abundant than usual in this particular chamber.
Lyaia and her brother were sitting at one end of the table, and Drex at the other. Both the Duros picked at their own high-protein porridge with the enthusiasm of a Dewback on Hoth. Two more depressing aliens Drex had never before met. He decided to attempt to lighten the situation a bit with some healthy conversation.
“So,” Drex started, pausing because his sudden vocalization had made Oz jump in his seat. Adjusting his tone and volume, Drex continued, “where are you two from?”
Lyaia looked at him like he was insane, and Oz did likewise, as far as he could tell. He was beginning to mutter an apology after an uncomfortable silence when the older Duros replied. “We were born on this ship. Pretty much on this table, actually.”
“Oh,” Drex said, glancing at the steel surface before him. He shrugged off vague feelings of discomfort at eating here. “And have you lived on the ship your whole lives?”
Oz looked bored, and went back to his meal.
“Yes,” Lyaia answered quietly. “We’ve never really spent very long on any planet’s surface. The longest we’ve ever been off the ship was on a refueling station in the Corporate Sector.”
“Ah,” Drex nodded. So much for talking about their homeworld. “Was your father born on this ship as well? Your mother?”
It was like he’d just told them they were going to die, for a pall settled down in the room. “Yes, our father.” Lyaia’s voice was almost a whisper. Oz lost interest in his meal.
“He died here too,” Lyaia added, barely audible.
“I’m sorry,” Drex replied. A few quick thoughts put two and two together and he realized what might have gone wrong on this ship so recently. “Um-“
“How about you Mr. Odagon?” Lyaia interrupted, some strength returning to her voice as she raised its decibel level.
“I was born and raised on Austeron,” he replied, happy to not have killed the conversation. “It’s a terran planet in the Inner Rim, First Quadrant of the Galaxy. Heavy G world, which is why I guess I have these,” he chuckled, indicating his large, dense musculature while going into his routine answer for the ‘Where are you from?’ question. It was a practiced response, he’d spent a lot of time in bars.
“Pretty wet on the surface, lots of rain, but I’d spent most of my life underneath the surface. I’m a droid supervisor for the Wheyga Mining & Processing Corporation. Basically that means I stand around directing AI’s where to go and dump rocks. I occasionally have to make calls on where to dig, but not very often.”
“What are you digging for?” Oz piped up, his voice wavering a bit as though he’d just had a good cry.
“Heavy metals,” Drex replied. “It’s the chief export of my homeworld. Those metals are in turn bought up by the Dentari Shipwright Association, which turns them into starship components for use at their shipyard in system.”
“Do you make ships?” The boy’s interest had been piqued.
“No,” Drex smiled, “I only dig for the ore to make them. I don't even smelt them, someone else in the WMPC does that. It’s really the DSA that makes the starships.”
“Oh,” the boy looked disappointed.
“Are your parents from Austeron?” Lyaia’s question.
“Yes,” Drex returned, “and their parents before them, and theirs before them, and so on right down to when Austeron was colonized thousands of years ago. At least, that’s how it’s been told to me.”
“Have you ever left Austeron before?” Lyaia continued.
Drex chuckled, “The planet? Yes. The Dentari System? No. This would be my first time. I guess I didn’t do so well huh?”
“You shouldn’t have left in a fighter on such a long trip.” It was Oz’s judgement.
“I know,” Drex smiled, happy the mood was lightening. “I didn’t have much of a choice though.”
“Oh?” Lyaia said in what Drex perceived was a half mocking tone. “Why not?”
Drex smiled to himself. “The mood of the moment dictated otherwise.”
It was Lyaia’s turn to smile. Drex thought it quite the miracle, since she hadn’t even hinted at doing so since he woke up in the infirmary.
“So who’s hunting you Mr. Odagon?” Lyaia’s body language was shifting to something smug. It made the hairs go up on the back of Drex’s neck.
“No one you need to worry about,” Drex responded.
Lyaia looked like she was about to object, but then didn’t. Instead she just grew silent, and the smug smile faded from her face. Oz looked back and forth between the two, and then went back to finishing his meal. Drex thought that a fine idea.
The meal finished in silence.