The first thing Tavin noticed about Hesper Transfer Station was that it appeared to have been assembled by someone who had never seen two pieces of architecture that matched.
The second thing was that it was enormous.
He stood beside Thane on Freya’s bridge, staring through the forward windows as the station slowly grew against the stars.
It was a sprawling collection of interconnected structures: broad cylindrical habitation modules, rectangular cargo terminals, rotating residential sections, and enormous docking platforms extending in every direction. Some portions looked relatively new, gleaming silver and white beneath the harsh light of Hesper’s sun. Others were clearly decades old, their hulls covered in repaired plating, faded corporate markings, and generations of additional equipment.
Freighters moved between the outer cargo berths. Small service craft darted through designated traffic lanes. An enormous bulk carrier was slowly being maneuvered toward a heavy industrial terminal by three station tugs.
Tavin’s amber eyes widened.
“Holy hell.”
Gabriel glanced over from navigation.
“Pretty impressive, isn’t it?”
“It’s huge.”
“Twenty-eight kilometers across at its widest point,” Gabriel said. “Not counting the external freight-handling platforms.”
Tavin stared.
“Twenty-eight kilometers?”
“Yep.”
“How many people live there?”
“Last census put the permanent population around eighty thousand. Transient population fluctuates anywhere between fifteen and forty thousand depending on shipping traffic.”
Tavin slowly shook his head.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Thane smiled.
“It’s a busy place.”
“Busy?” Gabriel repeated. “It’s a logistical nightmare held together by traffic controllers, docking fees, and the collective desperation of several thousand shipping companies.”
Mark chuckled from the engineering station.
“Sounds familiar.”
Gabriel pointed at him.
“Exactly. It’s like running Freya, except everybody’s arguing about whose turn it is to pay for maintenance.”
Tavin grinned.
“So basically Gabriel’s dream job.”
Gabriel looked offended.
“I’ll have you know that I am exceptionally good at my job.”
“That’s what makes the complaining so impressive.”
Thane laughed.
“Gentlemen, can we concentrate on docking before we start another argument?”
“We weren’t arguing,” Tavin said.
Gabriel folded his arms.
“I was being professionally insulted.”
“An important distinction,” Mark observed.
Thane shook his head, smiling.
“Gabriel, what’s our berth assignment?”
“Industrial Terminal Six, Cargo Berth Forty-Two. The client has a handling crew waiting for us.”
“Good. Let’s get this delivery finished.”
Freya continued toward the enormous station, her engines settling into the steady, precise rhythm of approach maneuvers.
For Tavin, the entire experience was mesmerizing.
He’d seen Calder Industrial Station, of course. He’d worked there, lived there, and spent enough time navigating its crowded corridors to know which shortcuts avoided the busiest commercial sections.
But Calder was a relatively modest facility compared with Hesper.
Hesper was practically a city.
And somewhere inside that city were places he’d never imagined visiting.
He didn’t yet know that he was about to see most of them.
The delivery itself was almost disappointingly uneventful.
The client’s representative, a tall, broad-shouldered alien with dark violet skin and four thick fingers on each hand, met them in the cargo bay accompanied by two structural inspectors.
His name was Dren, and he appeared positively delighted when he saw the recovered loading assembly.
“That’s it,” he said, walking slowly around the enormous machinery. “That’s our rig.”
Gabriel smiled.
“As advertised.”
Dren examined the damaged mounting brackets.
“I was told the main structure was intact, but I didn’t expect it to be in such good condition.”
“Mostly intact,” Mark corrected. “There are several damaged components, and one boom is going to need substantial repair.”
Dren nodded.
“Of course. But the central transfer frame is worth nearly half the assembly’s replacement cost by itself.”
Gabriel’s smile widened.
“Then I believe you’ll find our recovery fee quite reasonable.”
Thane looked away to hide his amusement.
The client’s inspectors reviewed the securing arrangements, compared the rig against the original equipment identification, and confirmed that Freya had satisfied the recovery specifications.
Mark showed Dren the photographs of the fractured mounting bracket.
The alien’s expression became considerably more serious.
“You believe this was a fatigue failure?”
“It certainly has features consistent with one,” Mark replied. “I wouldn’t call it definitive without a metallurgical analysis. But I strongly recommend inspecting any identical mounting assemblies still in service.”
Dren studied the images.
“We have three others.”
“Then I’d have somebody qualified look at all three before putting them under another heavy load.”
Dren nodded slowly.
“I appreciate the warning.”
“Happy to help.”
The station’s cargo-handling crew unloaded the rig using a heavy overhead transfer system, and Gabriel completed the final acceptance paperwork.
Thirty minutes later, the transaction was finished.
Forty-two thousand credits had been transferred into Freya’s commercial account.
Gabriel looked at the confirmation on his terminal.
Then smiled.
“Gentlemen, another successful contract.”
Tavin grinned.
“That sounded almost cheerful.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“Money makes me happy.”
“We noticed.”
“Especially when it’s money somebody else owes me.”
Thane chuckled.
“Well, since we’re finished here, I think we ought to discuss our plans.”
Mark glanced over.
“Something wrong?”
“Not at all.”
Thane looked around at the three wolves.
“We’ve been working pretty steadily. I think it’s time we took a day off.”
Gabriel blinked.
“A day off?”
“Yep.”
“An entire day?”
“That’s generally how they work.”
Tavin laughed.
Gabriel considered this remarkable development.
“Are you feeling all right?”
“Perfectly.”
“Have you been exposed to some kind of alien intoxicant?”
“Gabriel.”
“I’m just checking.”
Thane folded his arms.
“We’re docked at one of the largest commercial stations in this sector. We’ve got our contract money. We have no urgent commitments. And I haven’t had a proper opportunity to wander around a station like this in years.”
Mark smiled.
“Sounds good to me.”
Tavin looked uncertain.
“What would we do?”
Thane turned toward him.
“Whatever we want.”
Tavin blinked.
“Whatever?”
“Within reason.”
Gabriel immediately raised a hand.
“I object to that last part.”
“Objection noted.”
Thane continued.
“Shopping. Exploring. Looking around. Eating something we didn’t cook ourselves. I don’t particularly care. Everybody gets the day to themselves.”
Tavin glanced between the others.
“We don’t have work to do?”
“Not today.”
“No maintenance?”
Mark shrugged.
“Nothing that can’t wait.”
“No cleaning?”
Gabriel opened his mouth.
Thane pointed at him.
“Don’t.”
Gabriel closed it again.
Tavin slowly grinned.
“Wow.”
Thane smiled.
“Welcome to shore leave, son.”
The next morning, Hesper Transfer Station’s commercial promenade was already bustling when the four wolves stepped out of the transit lift.
Tavin stopped so abruptly that Gabriel nearly walked into him.
“Whoa.”
The promenade stretched away in both directions, a broad, gently curving corridor lined with shops, restaurants, entertainment venues, and commercial kiosks.
High overhead, an artificial lighting system simulated a pleasant blue sky. Hanging gardens overflowed from balconies and elevated pedestrian walkways. Water flowed through transparent channels suspended above the main corridor, occasionally carrying small aquatic passengers between distant sections of the station.
The air smelled of baked food, unfamiliar spices, hot machinery, and at least a dozen different species.
Aliens of every imaginable shape moved through the crowd.
Tall, thin creatures with translucent skin.
Compact, heavily built beings covered in dark scales.
A group of floating, jellyfish-like organisms surrounded by faintly glowing atmospheric containment fields.
Several familiar humanoid species.
And, here and there, a few other wolves.
Tavin’s ears perked up when he noticed them.
One gray-furred wolf in a mechanic’s uniform gave the group a friendly nod as he passed.
Thane returned it.
Gabriel glanced at the station directory.
“All right. According to this, the main commercial district extends about three kilometers in either direction. There are six entertainment complexes, four major shopping centers, and approximately nine hundred individual retail establishments.”
Tavin stared.
“Nine hundred?”
“Give or take.”
Mark was already studying the directory.
“Oh, look at that.”
Thane followed his gaze.
“What?”
“Industrial surplus exchange.”
Gabriel groaned.
“Oh, no.”
Mark’s ears lifted.
“According to this, they’ve got three entire levels of refurbished machinery and obsolete components.”
Thane smiled.
“Well, I know where you’re going.”
Mark looked positively delighted.
Tavin was still staring at the promenade.
Gabriel glanced at him.
“What about you, kid?”
Tavin shrugged.
“I don’t know.”
“Nothing you want to see?”
“Everything.”
Gabriel laughed.
“Fair answer.”
Thane considered the group.
“Why don’t we split up for a while? Everybody do their own thing. We’ll meet back here around seventeen hundred and decide where to eat.”
Mark nodded.
“Works for me.”
Gabriel smiled.
“I have a few places in mind.”
Tavin looked toward Thane.
“Can I really just… go wherever?”
Thane regarded him gently.
“Of course.”
“By myself?”
“If that’s what you want.”
Tavin hesitated.
Thane continued.
“You’ve got your communicator. You’ve got your station access credentials. And you’ve got your own money.”
“My money.”
“Yep.”
The young wolf looked thoughtful.
Thane smiled.
“Just keep your communicator on and stay out of the restricted areas.”
Gabriel raised a finger.
“And don’t buy anything that explodes.”
Tavin grinned.
“That seems unnecessarily limiting.”
Mark chuckled.
Thane shook his head.
“All right, gentlemen. Enjoy yourselves.”
For the first twenty minutes, Tavin didn’t buy anything.
He barely even entered a shop.
He simply walked.
The promenade seemed endless.
Every few meters, something new caught his attention.
A confectionery sold sweets that changed colors when exposed to air.
A clothing shop displayed garments designed for species with four arms, six arms, tails, wings, and anatomies Tavin couldn’t begin to understand.
One restaurant had an enormous transparent dining room filled entirely with water.
Tavin stopped and watched several aquatic customers eating around a circular table.
He wondered whether any of them were Veylith.
Probably not.
Their bodies were longer and more serpentine.
Still, the sight made him smile.
He thought about Captain Neral and Irix.
About their strange food.
About the way Irix’s skin had turned brilliant gold when Mark praised him.
It had only been a couple of days, but Tavin already missed them a little.
He continued walking.
Eventually, he found himself in a narrower section of the promenade lined with smaller independent shops.
One storefront caught his attention immediately.
SECOND CHANCE ELECTRONICS
Beneath the name, a smaller sign read:
Refurbished diagnostic equipment, test instruments, industrial controls, and hard-to-find components.
Tavin stopped.
His ears lifted.
“Oh, hell yes.”
He went inside.
The shop smelled wonderful.
At least, Tavin thought so.
It was the familiar scent of clean circuit boards, warm electronics, soldering equipment, and old machinery.
Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling.
Portable diagnostic instruments sat beside power supplies, industrial interface modules, communication equipment, and neatly organized bins of components.
At the back of the shop, a compact alien with leathery green skin and enormous round eyes sat behind a workbench repairing a control board.
It looked up.
“Morning.”
“Morning,” Tavin replied.
“Looking for anything particular?”
“Not really. Just browsing.”
“Best way to find something you didn’t know you needed.”
Tavin grinned.
“That’s what I keep hearing.”
The proprietor returned to its work.
Tavin wandered slowly between the shelves.
He examined a rack of portable oscilloscopes.
A collection of precision soldering tools.
Several refurbished power analyzers.
Then he saw it.
Inside a glass-fronted display cabinet sat a compact professional electronics diagnostic instrument.
Its casing was dark gray with reinforced corners and a slightly worn protective bumper. A bright display occupied its upper half, surrounded by several control buttons and rotary selectors.
The identification label read:
Kessarin Instruments MDA-450 Portable Electronics Analyzer
Tavin stared.
He knew the model.
Not because he’d ever used one.
Because he’d spent hours reading about them.
The MDA-450 was a serious professional tool.
It combined a four-channel oscilloscope, logic analyzer, precision multimeter, signal generator, and component-characterization functions in one portable package.
It wasn’t the newest model.
But it was exceptionally capable.
And it was exactly the kind of instrument Tavin had dreamed of owning when he was repairing discarded electronics with little more than a basic multimeter and borrowed tools.
He leaned closer.
The price tag read:
1,850 credits — Refurbished, tested, ninety-day warranty.
Tavin’s ears slowly lowered.
That was a lot of money.
Not impossibly expensive.
But a lot.
He looked at the instrument for another moment.
Then started to turn away.
“Something catch your eye?”
The proprietor had appeared beside the cabinet.
Tavin glanced back.
“Yeah. The MDA-450.”
“Good machine.”
“I know.”
“You work in electronics?”
“Sort of. I’m training as a technician aboard a salvage ship.”
The proprietor’s eyes widened slightly.
“Salvage?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you’d get some use out of that.”
Tavin nodded.
“Probably.”
The proprietor opened the cabinet.
“Want to see it?”
Tavin hesitated.
“I don’t think I can afford it.”
“Didn’t ask whether you could afford it. Asked whether you wanted to see it.”
Tavin grinned.
“Sure.”
The proprietor placed the analyzer on the counter and connected it to a test fixture.
The display illuminated.
Tavin’s eyes widened.
The proprietor demonstrated its functions, explaining that the instrument had been completely serviced and calibrated six weeks earlier.
Tavin asked several questions.
Then several more.
Soon the two were discussing input protection, sampling rates, and whether the analyzer’s component-characterization function could handle certain types of industrial power semiconductors.
The proprietor seemed delighted to have a customer who actually understood the equipment.
Eventually, Tavin reluctantly stepped back.
“It’s really nice.”
“It is.”
“Thanks for showing me.”
“Anytime.”
Tavin glanced at the price again.
Then toward the door.
“Maybe someday.”
He hadn’t gone far when his communicator chimed.
Thane: Having fun?
Tavin smiled and typed a reply.
Tavin: Yeah! Found an electronics shop. This station is insane.
A moment later:
Thane: Anything interesting?
Tavin hesitated.
Then typed:
Tavin: Only about a thousand things.
The response came almost immediately.
Thane: LOL. Enjoy yourself.
Tavin stared at the message.
Then looked back toward the electronics shop.
He thought about the money in his account.
He’d been paid for his first days aboard Freya.
Not a fortune.
But real wages.
His wages.
Nobody was deducting mysterious debts from them.
Nobody was telling him how much he was allowed to keep.
He could spend them.
Or save them.
Or do whatever he wanted.
He looked at the shop again.
Then shook his head.
No.
Not yet.
He wanted to make sure he understood what he could afford before spending nearly two thousand credits on a piece of equipment.
That was something he’d learned from Gabriel, oddly enough.
The black wolf might complain about everything under the stars, but he was meticulous about money.
Tavin pulled up his account balance.
Then his employment agreement.
He studied the numbers.
Thought about his expected expenses.
And slowly began to smile.
Across the station, Mark had found paradise.
It was called Hesper Industrial Surplus Exchange, and it occupied three enormous warehouse levels filled with machinery, equipment, components, and miscellaneous industrial hardware.
Thane stood beside him near the entrance.
“Good lord.”
Mark looked positively euphoric.
“Isn’t it beautiful?”
Thane surveyed the rows of equipment.
A hydraulic press stood beside several old power-distribution cabinets. Racks of industrial motors stretched toward the far wall. Suspended overhead were dozens of articulated mechanical assemblies, some clearly removed from spacecraft, others from mining equipment.
“Beautiful isn’t the first word that comes to mind.”
Mark grinned.
“That’s because you lack imagination.”
“I spent three years helping you rebuild Freya.”
“Exactly. You should know better.”
Thane laughed.
They wandered between the shelves.
Mark stopped frequently to examine particular pieces of equipment.
A refurbished actuator controller.
A set of industrial power couplings.
Several obsolete interface boards.
Thane followed patiently, occasionally asking questions.
Eventually, Mark stopped beside a dusty metal cabinet.
His ears lifted.
“Wait a minute.”
Thane looked over.
“What?”
Mark stepped closer.
“No way.”
He wiped dust from the identification plate.
Then stared.
Thane approached.
“Mark?”
The gray-and-white wolf slowly turned.
“You remember the original cargo-control system on Freya?”
Thane laughed.
“How could I forget?”
“Remember that ridiculous sequencing controller?”
“The one that kept dropping the bay doors halfway through a cycle?”
“That’s the one.”
“Nearly drove you insane.”
Mark grinned.
“Nearly?”
Thane laughed.
Mark pointed toward the cabinet.
“Look.”
Thane leaned forward.
The identification plate identified a heavy-duty industrial sequencing controller manufactured more than thirty years earlier.
Mark’s tail gave a small, involuntary wag.
“That’s it.”
Thane blinked.
“The same model?”
“Same model. Same revision. Even the same firmware generation.”
“Good grief.”
Mark opened the cabinet’s inspection panel.
Inside sat several neatly arranged control modules.
He examined them.
“Holy hell.”
Thane smiled.
“What?”
“It’s complete.”
“Is that unusual?”
“Unusual? Thane, I’ve been trying to find one of these for years.”
Thane looked at the cabinet again.
“Why?”
“Because Freya’s original controller is still in service.”
Thane frowned.
“I thought you’d replaced that.”
“Rebuilt it. Replaced several failed modules. Updated the interface wiring. But the main sequencing processor is still original.”
Thane stared.
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“And it still works?”
“Beautifully.”
Thane chuckled.
“Of course it does.”
Mark looked at the controller with unmistakable affection.
“But if that processor ever fails, we’d have to redesign the entire cargo-control interface around a modern replacement.”
Thane nodded slowly.
“So this would be a proper spare.”
“Exactly.”
A warehouse attendant approached.
“Interested in that unit?”
Mark turned so quickly that Thane nearly laughed.
“Very.”
The attendant examined the label.
“Old industrial controller. Came out of a decommissioned heavy transport about two years ago.”
“Was it tested?”
“Basic power-up and internal diagnostics. No active faults. Full functional testing would cost extra.”
Mark nodded.
“Fair enough. What’s the asking price?”
The attendant checked its terminal.
“Six hundred and forty credits.”
Mark went completely still.
Thane looked at him.
“Mark?”
The older wolf slowly turned.
His expression was priceless.
Thane immediately knew what he was thinking.
He’d seen that expression before.
Many times.
Usually immediately before Mark announced that he’d found something worth approximately ten times what somebody was asking for it.
Thane smiled.
“We’ll take it.”
Mark looked at him.
“Thane—”
“What?”
“Don’t you want to negotiate?”
Thane grinned.
“Not particularly.”
The attendant looked delighted.
Mark stared at his old friend.
Then started laughing.
They arranged to have the controller delivered directly to Freya’s berth.
As they continued through the warehouse, Thane glanced at Mark.
“Remember the first time we got Freya’s cargo doors working?”
Mark snorted.
“Oh, God.”
Thane laughed.
“You remember.”
“How could I forget?”
The memory came back with astonishing clarity.
Freya had been sitting in a neglected maintenance berth, her hull half-open and her cargo systems completely disabled.
They’d spent nearly six weeks tracing wiring, replacing damaged actuators, and rebuilding the control circuitry.
Finally, one evening, Mark had announced that the system was ready for its first full test.
Thane had stood at the control console.
Gabriel had been in the cargo bay watching the doors.
Mark had been beside the primary controller.
Thane smiled at the memory.
“You told me to hit the button.”
Mark laughed.
“And you did.”
“And nothing happened.”
“Because the safety interlock wasn’t satisfied.”
“So you checked the interlock.”
“And found the sensor wiring reversed.”
Thane chuckled.
“You fixed it.”
“Yep.”
“And told me to hit the button again.”
Mark was already laughing.
Thane continued.
“And this time the doors opened about six inches.”
“Eight.”
“Six.”
“Eight.”
“Whatever. And then they stopped.”
Mark shook his head.
“Because one of the actuator feedback modules was reporting the wrong position.”
“And Gabriel was standing in the cargo bay shouting that he’d seen glaciers move faster.”
Mark burst out laughing.
“Oh, I remember that.”
Thane grinned.
“Then you went down there and told him if he didn’t like it, he could come fix it himself.”
“And he said—”
Both wolves spoke together.
“I’M THE ONE PAYING FOR THIS DAMN THING!”
They dissolved into laughter.
Several nearby shoppers looked over.
Thane wiped his eyes.
“God, those were good times.”
Mark nodded.
“They really were.”
The laughter gradually faded.
They continued walking.
Then Thane spoke more quietly.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked you.”
Mark looked over.
“For what?”
“Freya.”
Mark frowned.
“What about her?”
“All the work you put into her. All those nights you stayed up fixing things. All the systems you rebuilt. All the times you figured out how to make something work when we couldn’t afford a replacement.”
Mark was quiet.
Thane continued.
“We wouldn’t have her without you.”
Mark looked down for a moment.
Then smiled.
“You know that’s not true.”
Thane raised an eyebrow.
“Isn’t it?”
“No.”
Mark looked toward the rows of old machinery.
“You found her. You believed she was worth saving. You put up the money. You spent every spare hour helping me tear things apart and put them back together.”
He chuckled.
“And Gabriel somehow managed to keep us solvent while we were spending money faster than we could earn it.”
Thane smiled.
“Barely.”
“Barely,” Mark agreed.
He looked back at Thane.
“Freya wasn’t something I built for you.”
Thane listened.
“She was something we built together.”
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Thane smiled.
“Yeah.”
Mark nodded.
“Yeah.”
They resumed walking.
After a few steps, Mark added, “Although I will say, you were absolutely terrible at labeling wiring harnesses.”
Thane burst out laughing.
“Oh, here we go.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
“You’d write things like ‘left thing’ and ‘big connector’ on the labels.”
“Because that’s what they were!”
Mark shook his head.
“It’s a miracle I let you near the electrical systems.”
Thane laughed.
“You loved every minute.”
“Most of them.”
Gabriel’s day had taken a considerably different turn.
He’d started with a perfectly reasonable intention to browse the commercial district, perhaps visit a music shop, enjoy a good meal, and generally appreciate being somewhere that didn’t require him to complete paperwork.
Then he’d found the instrument store.
RESONANCE — INSTRUMENTS OF THE KNOWN WORLDS
Gabriel stopped in the doorway.
“Oh, now we’re talking.”
The interior was magnificent.
Stringed instruments hung along one wall.
Wind instruments occupied another.
A collection of percussion devices filled an entire corner, including several that appeared to have no solid striking surfaces at all.
At the center of the shop, an alien musician was demonstrating an instrument unlike anything Gabriel had ever seen.
It consisted of a long, curved wooden body fitted with twelve strings arranged in three groups.
The musician plucked several strings.
A low, resonant tone filled the shop.
Then another.
The sound was warm and rich, with strange harmonic overtones that seemed to shift as the musician moved its hands.
Gabriel’s ears lifted.
“Holy hell.”
The musician looked up.
It was tall and slender, with pale lavender skin, four arms, and a narrow face framed by delicate sensory tendrils.
“Interested?”
Gabriel grinned.
“Very.”
The musician smiled.
“Have you played a harmonic veilar before?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Ah. An unfamiliar instrument.”
“I’m a guitarist.”
The musician tilted its head.
“Terran stringed instrument?”
“Yep.”
“I have heard examples.”
Gabriel smiled.
“What’d you think?”
The alien considered its response.
“Primitive.”
Gabriel went completely still.
Then slowly grinned.
“Oh, really?”
The musician nodded.
“Limited harmonic architecture. Restricted tonal range. A rather straightforward mechanical design.”
Gabriel folded his arms.
“Buddy, you are about to have a very educational morning.”
Twenty minutes later, the shop had attracted a small crowd.
Gabriel had borrowed an electric guitar from the store’s collection of imported Terran instruments and connected it to a demonstration amplifier.
The alien musician, whose name was Velis, stood opposite him holding the twelve-string veilar.
Their initial discussion had been entirely friendly.
Then Velis had demonstrated a complex harmonic pattern.
Gabriel had responded with a blues progression.
Velis had played a traditional composition from its homeworld.
Gabriel had answered with a fast, intricate rock riff.
The crowd had grown.
Velis seemed delighted.
Gabriel was having the time of his life.
“Very interesting,” Velis said after Gabriel finished a particularly aggressive passage.
Gabriel grinned.
“Primitive enough for you?”
Velis’s tendrils shimmered.
“Perhaps I underestimated the instrument.”
“Perhaps.”
“Although your technique relies heavily on mechanical amplification.”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, you want to talk technique?”
Velis smiled.
“I would be interested in hearing more.”
Gabriel adjusted the amplifier.
Then launched into a driving, rhythmically complex instrumental passage.
It wasn’t a song the crowd recognized.
Just Gabriel improvising.
But it was good.
Really good.
His black-furred hands moved confidently across the fretboard.
His claws clicked lightly against the strings as he shifted positions.
He used the instrument’s controls to shape the tone, alternating between clean melodic passages and heavily overdriven riffs.
Several spectators began moving in time with the music.
Velis watched intently.
When Gabriel finished, the crowd applauded.
Gabriel grinned broadly.
“Your turn.”
Velis laughed.
Then began playing.
The veilar produced a remarkable cascade of harmonics, its twelve strings interacting through a complex resonating chamber.
Gabriel listened.
Then, without warning, began playing along.
Velis looked up.
Gabriel grinned.
“Keep going.”
The alien continued.
Gabriel found the underlying rhythm.
Then the harmonic structure.
Slowly, the two instruments began weaving around one another.
What started as a friendly challenge became an improvised duet.
The veilar’s shimmering tones floated above the guitar’s deep, driving rhythm.
Gabriel shifted into a melodic lead.
Velis answered with a cascade of harmonics.
The crowd grew louder.
By the time they finished, nearly forty people had gathered around the shop’s entrance.
The applause was enthusiastic.
Gabriel lowered the guitar.
Velis stared at him.
Then smiled.
“I withdraw my previous assessment.”
Gabriel laughed.
“Good answer.”
Velis extended one of its four hands.
Gabriel shook it.
“That was magnificent,” the alien said.
Gabriel grinned.
“Not bad yourself.”
Tavin discovered the crowd entirely by accident.
He’d been heading toward a small restaurant when he heard the unmistakable sound of an electric guitar.
A very familiar style of guitar playing.
He stopped.
His ears lifted.
“Oh, no.”
He followed the music.
A moment later, he found Gabriel standing inside the instrument shop, grinning like an idiot while a crowd applauded.
Tavin slowly smiled.
Then raised his voice.
“DO THEY CHARGE ADMISSION, OR DO WE GET PAID TO PUT UP WITH THIS?”
Gabriel’s head snapped around.
His eyes widened.
“TAVIN!”
The young wolf waved cheerfully.
“HI!”
Several spectators laughed.
Gabriel pointed at him.
“GET IN HERE!”
Tavin wandered inside.
“Nice crowd. Did you promise them refunds?”
Gabriel stared.
Velis looked between them.
“Are you acquainted?”
Gabriel sighed.
“Unfortunately.”
Tavin smiled.
“He’s my crewmate.”
Velis’s tendrils shimmered.
“Your crewmate is an exceptional musician.”
Tavin nodded thoughtfully.
“Yeah, he’s pretty good.”
Gabriel blinked.
For one brief moment, he looked genuinely pleased.
Then Tavin added, “When he isn’t talking.”
The crowd laughed.
Gabriel closed his eyes.
“Of course.”
Velis looked fascinated.
“You have an unusual friendship.”
Gabriel opened one eye.
“You have no idea.”
They spent another half hour in the instrument shop.
Gabriel and Velis discussed different playing techniques, instrument construction, and the challenges of performing music across species with different hearing ranges.
Tavin listened with surprising interest.
He hadn’t realized how much technical knowledge went into instrument design.
At one point, Velis demonstrated how the veilar’s resonating chamber used adjustable internal membranes to emphasize different harmonic frequencies.
Tavin leaned forward.
“So it’s almost like a mechanical equalizer?”
Velis looked delighted.
“Precisely!”
Gabriel turned toward him.
“See? Music is engineering.”
Tavin grinned.
“Explains why you’re only good at half of it.”
Gabriel stared.
Velis laughed.
Eventually, Gabriel purchased a compact set of specialized guitar strings manufactured from an unusually resilient alien alloy.
He also exchanged contact information with Velis.
“If you’re ever passing through Hesper again,” Velis said, “I would very much enjoy another performance.”
Gabriel smiled.
“Count on it.”
As they left the shop, Tavin glanced over.
“You really are good.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“What?”
“Playing guitar.”
Gabriel’s expression softened.
“Thanks, kid.”
Tavin smiled.
There was a brief silence.
Then he added, “Still can’t believe somebody applauded you voluntarily.”
Gabriel groaned.
“AND THERE IT IS.”
By midafternoon, Tavin had returned to Second Chance Electronics.
He’d spent nearly an hour reviewing his finances.
The MDA-450 was expensive.
But he could afford it.
And more importantly, he wanted it.
Not because somebody had told him to buy it.
Not because it was necessary for a job.
Because it was something he’d wanted for years.
He entered the shop.
The proprietor looked up.
“Back again?”
Tavin grinned.
“Yeah.”
“Still thinking about that analyzer?”
“Actually…”
He took a breath.
“I think I’d like to buy it.”
The proprietor smiled.
“Excellent choice.”
Tavin’s ears lifted.
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
The alien retrieved the instrument from its display.
It included the original carrying case, a set of test leads, calibration documentation, and a compact power adapter.
The proprietor ran another quick functional check.
Everything passed.
Tavin transferred the payment.
The transaction confirmation appeared on his communicator.
1,850 credits transferred.
He stared at the screen.
For a moment, he felt something strange.
Not regret.
Not fear, exactly.
Just the unfamiliar realization that he’d spent a substantial amount of money on something entirely for himself.
The proprietor handed him the case.
“Enjoy it.”
Tavin accepted it carefully.
“Thanks.”
“You take care of that machine, it’ll take care of you.”
Tavin smiled.
“I intend to.”
He walked out into the promenade carrying the case.
And for the first time in his life, he owned a genuinely professional piece of electronics equipment.
Not borrowed.
Not scavenged.
Not something somebody had thrown away.
His.
He stopped beside a planter filled with brilliant purple foliage.
Opened the case.
Looked at the instrument.
Then closed it again.
A huge grin spread across his muzzle.
“Holy hell,” he whispered.
At seventeen hundred, the four wolves reunited near the central transit plaza.
Gabriel arrived first, carrying a small shopping bag and looking insufferably pleased with himself.
Mark and Thane appeared a few minutes later.
Tavin came last.
Gabriel spotted the case immediately.
“Well, well, well.”
Tavin grinned.
“What?”
“Somebody went shopping.”
“Yep.”
Mark’s ears perked up.
“What’d you get?”
Tavin set the case on a nearby bench.
Opened it.
Mark leaned forward.
Then stopped.
“Oh, wow.”
Tavin looked delighted.
“You recognize it?”
“Of course I recognize it.”
Mark examined the instrument.
“Kessarin MDA-450. That’s a serious piece of equipment.”
Tavin’s tail wagged.
“Refurbished. Fully calibrated. Ninety-day warranty.”
Mark nodded approvingly.
“Very nice.”
Gabriel glanced at the instrument.
“How much?”
Tavin hesitated.
“Eighteen hundred and fifty.”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow.
“That’s a substantial purchase.”
Tavin’s ears lowered slightly.
“Yeah.”
Gabriel studied him.
“Did you check your budget first?”
“Yep.”
“Still have a reasonable reserve?”
“Yep.”
“Warranty documentation?”
“Right here.”
Gabriel nodded.
“Then congratulations.”
Tavin blinked.
“Really?”
“Of course.”
The black wolf smiled.
“You wanted it, you could afford it, and you made an informed decision. That’s exactly what money’s for.”
Tavin slowly smiled.
“Thanks.”
Mark was still examining the analyzer.
“Mind if I take a closer look when we get back?”
Tavin grinned.
“Absolutely.”
Thane watched the exchange with quiet satisfaction.
Then he glanced toward Gabriel.
“So. How was your day?”
Gabriel’s grin returned.
“Oh, gentlemen. You are looking at a celebrity.”
Tavin groaned.
“Here we go.”
Gabriel ignored him.
“I engaged in an extraordinary cultural exchange with a remarkably talented alien musician.”
Thane raised an eyebrow.
“Did you now?”
“Indeed.”
Tavin folded his arms.
“He got into a guitar competition because somebody called his instrument primitive.”
Mark burst out laughing.
Thane grinned.
“Of course he did.”
Gabriel pointed at Tavin.
“It was a friendly exchange of musical traditions.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And we had a crowd.”
“A very confused crowd.”
“A very appreciative crowd.”
Tavin nodded.
“Some of them even stayed voluntarily.”
Gabriel sighed.
“I should’ve left you at Calder.”
Thane laughed.
Mark held up a small purchase receipt.
“Well, we found something interesting too.”
Gabriel glanced at it.
“What?”
“A complete replacement sequencing controller for Freya’s original cargo system.”
Gabriel blinked.
“The old Karron unit?”
Mark’s ears lifted.
“Yep.”
Gabriel stared.
“Seriously?”
“Same revision. Complete assembly.”
“How much?”
“Six hundred and forty credits.”
Gabriel went completely still.
Then slowly turned toward Thane.
“You’re kidding.”
Thane grinned.
“Nope.”
Gabriel looked back at Mark.
“That’s worth at least six thousand credits.”
Mark smiled.
“Probably more.”
Gabriel took a long breath.
Then looked toward the station ceiling.
“Finally. Somebody around here understands the value of a bargain.”
Tavin raised a hand.
“I bought a professional diagnostic analyzer at a fair price.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“And I’m proud of you.”
Tavin blinked.
The sincerity caught him off guard.
Gabriel grinned.
“See? I can be nice.”
Tavin considered that.
“Must be exhausting.”
Thane laughed.
“Come on, everybody. Let’s find somewhere to eat.”
The restaurant Gabriel selected was a surprisingly elegant establishment overlooking one of Hesper’s interior observation gardens.
Large windows revealed a beautiful artificial landscape filled with flowering trees, gently flowing water, and carefully maintained paths beneath a simulated evening sky.
The restaurant itself served a broad selection of dishes from several different worlds.
Thane ordered a thick grilled steak.
Mark selected a roasted vegetable and protein dish.
Gabriel chose an elaborate seafood platter.
Tavin studied the menu for several minutes before finally ordering a dish featuring grilled meat, spiced rice, and a rich sauce made from ingredients he’d never heard of.
The food arrived.
Everyone approved.
For a while, the conversation revolved around their purchases and discoveries.
Mark explained the significance of the obsolete sequencing controller.
Gabriel described his musical encounter in increasingly dramatic terms.
Tavin provided a somewhat less flattering account of the same event.
Thane listened, laughed, and occasionally offered commentary.
Eventually, the conversation shifted.
Mark was describing the early days of Freya’s restoration when Tavin leaned forward.
“Can I ask something?”
Gabriel looked up.
“Do you ever run out of questions?”
“No.”
“Just checking.”
Tavin turned toward Thane.
“What was Freya like when you first found her?”
Thane smiled slowly.
“Oh, son.”
Mark started laughing.
Gabriel groaned.
“Here we go.”
Tavin looked between them.
“What?”
Thane leaned back.
“She was a mess.”
Mark nodded.
“A complete disaster.”
Gabriel raised his glass.
“A financially catastrophic disaster.”
Tavin grinned.
“Seriously?”
Thane chuckled.
“Absolutely.”
He looked toward Mark.
“Remember the first time we walked through her?”
Mark smiled.
“Like it was yesterday.”
They’d found Freya in a commercial salvage yard six years earlier.
She was thirty-two years old now.
Back then, she’d already spent nearly three decades hauling damaged equipment, recovering derelict machinery, and performing industrial towing operations for a succession of commercial owners.
Her final operator had gone bankrupt.
The ship had been sold to a liquidation company.
And the liquidation company had decided she was worth more as scrap than as a functioning vessel.
Thane had seen the listing almost by accident.
An old industrial salvage ship.
Major systems incomplete.
Propulsion operational status unknown.
Cargo equipment partially stripped.
Interior condition poor.
Sold as-is.
Gabriel had laughed when Thane first showed him the advertisement.
Mark had asked for the technical specifications.
And that had been the beginning of everything.
“We went to look at her,” Thane told Tavin, “and she was sitting in this miserable little salvage berth with half her external equipment missing.”
Mark nodded.
“Somebody had removed the starboard cargo-handling controller.”
“And most of the internal lighting didn’t work,” Thane added.
Gabriel sighed.
“The galley was an absolute horror.”
Tavin grinned.
“How bad?”
Gabriel looked at him.
“Imagine a kitchen that hasn’t been cleaned in three years.”
Tavin winced.
“Okay.”
“Now imagine somebody removed half the appliances.”
“Right.”
“And the remaining half had apparently been used to conduct experiments in biological warfare.”
Tavin burst out laughing.
Thane shook his head.
“It wasn’t quite that bad.”
Gabriel stared at him.
“Thane. There was something growing inside the refrigerator.”
Mark laughed.
“There was.”
Tavin nearly choked on his drink.
“What was it?”
“Nobody knows,” Gabriel said solemnly. “Mark refused to let us investigate.”
Mark grinned.
“I disconnected the power, sealed the door, and had the entire unit removed.”
“Best decision you ever made,” Gabriel said.
Thane chuckled.
“But underneath all that neglect, she had good bones.”
Mark nodded.
“Very good bones.”
“The primary hull was sound. Her main structural members were solid. The propulsion assemblies were old but repairable.”
“And the cargo systems,” Mark added, “were beautifully designed.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“They were broken.”
“Beautifully broken.”
Tavin laughed.
Thane smiled.
“We could see what she might become.”
He paused.
“And I suppose that was enough.”
The three older wolves continued reminiscing.
They told Tavin about the first months of rebuilding Freya.
About sleeping in temporary quarters because most of the crew deck lacked functioning environmental controls.
About spending entire days tracing wiring harnesses and replacing failed distribution equipment.
About Gabriel’s seemingly endless battles with suppliers, contractors, and station administrators.
About the time Mark spent six hours diagnosing a faulty cargo-door sensor only to discover that Thane had accidentally labeled two connectors backward.
Tavin laughed so hard he had to put down his fork.
Thane pointed at Mark.
“He’s exaggerating.”
Mark grinned.
“Am I?”
“Six hours?”
“Five and a half.”
Gabriel nodded.
“Felt like six years.”
Thane shook his head.
“Fine. I labeled the connectors wrong.”
Tavin wiped his eyes.
“And Mark never let you forget it?”
“Not once.”
Mark smiled.
“Proper labeling is important.”
Gabriel raised his glass.
“To proper labeling.”
Tavin lifted his own.
“To the big connector and the left thing.”
Thane groaned.
The table erupted in laughter.
Eventually, Tavin asked the question that made the three older wolves grow quiet.
“Were you ever afraid it wouldn’t work?”
Thane looked at him.
“What?”
“Freya. Were you ever afraid you’d spend all that time and money and she’d never fly again?”
The older wolves exchanged glances.
Gabriel answered first.
“Every damn day.”
Tavin looked surprised.
Gabriel shrugged.
“We were spending money we didn’t have much of, trying to rebuild a ship that hadn’t passed a proper operational inspection in years.”
Mark nodded.
“There were times we found problems we hadn’t anticipated.”
“Expensive problems,” Gabriel added.
Thane smiled faintly.
“Very expensive.”
Tavin looked toward Mark.
“Did you ever think about giving up?”
Mark considered that.
“Sure.”
Tavin blinked.
“Really?”
“Of course.”
The older wolf leaned forward.
“There were nights I was so exhausted I couldn’t think straight. We’d fix one system and discover two more problems. Sometimes we’d spend days trying to find a replacement part that nobody manufactured anymore.”
He smiled.
“But then we’d solve something.”
Thane nodded.
“Get another system working.”
“Another light would come on,” Mark said.
“Another compartment would have heat.”
“Another engine controller would pass its diagnostics.”
Gabriel smiled.
“And then I’d discover we’d spent another five thousand credits.”
They laughed.
Mark continued.
“Eventually, the list of things that worked got longer than the list of things that didn’t.”
Thane looked thoughtful.
“And one day, we realized she was almost ready.”
Tavin listened intently.
“What was the first flight like?”
The three older wolves went quiet.
Then Thane smiled.
“Oh, I’ll never forget that.”
Freya’s first flight under their ownership had lasted exactly forty-seven minutes.
They hadn’t gone anywhere particularly interesting.
Just out of the maintenance berth, through the local traffic corridor, around a designated test waypoint, and back.
But to Thane, it had felt like crossing the galaxy.
They’d spent nearly three years rebuilding her.
Three years of work.
Three years of expense.
Three years of setbacks, arguments, laughter, and stubborn determination.
And then, finally, they’d powered up the engines.
Mark had sat at engineering, watching every system with almost painful concentration.
Gabriel had handled navigation and communications, quietly reciting clearance instructions and confirming every operational parameter.
Thane had taken the captain’s chair.
And Freya had moved.
Not perfectly.
There had been a slight vibration from one of the secondary coolant pumps.
A temperature sensor had briefly reported an impossible reading.
One of the navigation displays had flickered twice.
But she had moved.
Under her own power.
And when Thane had looked toward Mark, the older wolf had been smiling so broadly that his entire muzzle seemed to glow.
Gabriel had been grinning too.
For once, he’d had absolutely nothing sarcastic to say.
They’d taken Freya out into open space.
Turned her around.
Brought her home.
And afterward, they’d sat together in the unfinished galley drinking cheap coffee from mismatched mugs.
They hadn’t said much.
They hadn’t needed to.
Thane paused.
Tavin was staring at him.
“Wow,” the young wolf whispered.
Thane smiled.
“Yeah.”
Mark looked down at his plate.
“That was a good day.”
Gabriel nodded.
“One of the best.”
For a moment, the four wolves sat quietly.
Then Tavin spoke.
“I wish I’d been there.”
Thane looked at him.
There was something in the young wolf’s expression.
Not jealousy.
Not even sadness, exactly.
Just the wistful realization that the three older wolves shared years of memories he could never personally experience.
Thane reached across the table and gently rested a hand on Tavin’s shoulder.
“Son, you weren’t there for the beginning.”
Tavin nodded.
“I know.”
Thane smiled.
“But you’re here now.”
The young wolf looked up.
“And we’ve got plenty of memories left to make.”
Tavin’s ears lifted.
Mark nodded warmly.
“Sure do.”
Gabriel raised his glass.
“And preferably some that don’t involve repairing equipment that costs more than the ship itself.”
Thane laughed.
Tavin smiled.
“Or eating things that smell like dead fish?”
Gabriel lowered his glass.
“You just had to ruin it.”
They returned to Freya after dinner.
The station’s artificial evening lighting had dimmed to a soft amber, and the commercial promenade was gradually transitioning from daytime shopping traffic to nightlife.
Tavin carried his new diagnostic analyzer.
Mark had a small bag of miscellaneous components he’d picked up at the surplus exchange.
Gabriel carried his new guitar strings and a very satisfied expression.
Thane had purchased several packages of imported Earth meats and a selection of particularly aggressive peppers from a specialty food market.
Gabriel noticed them as they walked toward the docking terminal.
“Oh, no.”
Thane glanced over.
“What?”
“Those peppers.”
“What about them?”
“Those are the ones you put in your chili.”
Thane grinned.
“Some of them.”
Gabriel looked toward Mark.
“Tell him.”
Mark smiled.
“Tell him what?”
“That those peppers are dangerous.”
“They’re peppers.”
“They’re weapons.”
Tavin looked intrigued.
“How hot are they?”
Thane chuckled.
“Pretty hot.”
Gabriel stared.
“Pretty hot? Last time you made that chili, I couldn’t feel my tongue for twenty minutes.”
“You ate two bowls.”
“BECAUSE IT WAS GOOD!”
Mark laughed.
Tavin grinned.
“I’m starting to see a pattern.”
Gabriel pointed at him.
“Don’t.”
Back aboard Freya, everyone gradually settled into the familiar comfort of home.
Mark went down to engineering to inspect the newly delivered sequencing controller.
Gabriel disappeared into his cabin with his guitar strings.
Tavin took his analyzer to the common room and carefully unpacked it on the table.
Thane carried his groceries into the galley.
A few minutes later, Tavin appeared in the doorway.
“Hey, Thane?”
Thane looked up.
“Yeah?”
“Need any help?”
Thane smiled.
“Sure.”
Tavin entered the galley.
“What are you making?”
“Just getting some things ready for tomorrow.”
“Chili?”
Thane chuckled.
“Eventually.”
Tavin looked toward the ingredients.
“Can I help?”
“Absolutely.”
The young wolf grinned.
Thane handed him a cutting board.
“First lesson. Proper knife handling.”
Tavin looked offended.
“I worked in a restaurant.”
“I know.”
“I can cut vegetables.”
“Then you can show me.”
Tavin smiled.
“Fair enough.”
They worked side by side.
Thane prepared the meat.
Tavin chopped onions and peppers.
They talked about the station.
About Tavin’s new analyzer.
About the instrument shop.
About the strange excitement of having money to spend on something he genuinely wanted.
At one point, Tavin stopped.
“Thane?”
“Hmm?”
“Thanks.”
Thane looked over.
“For what?”
“For today.”
Thane smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
“No, I mean…”
Tavin hesitated.
“For letting me go off on my own. For trusting me.”
Thane set down his knife.
“Tavin, you’re nineteen years old. You’re perfectly capable of making your own decisions.”
“I know.”
“And you don’t need my permission to enjoy a day off.”
Tavin looked down at the cutting board.
“Still getting used to that.”
Thane’s expression softened.
“I figured.”
The young wolf smiled faintly.
“But it was nice.”
“Good.”
Tavin looked around the galley.
Then back at Thane.
“And this is nice too.”
“What?”
“Cooking.”
Thane chuckled.
“You’ve done plenty of that.”
“Not like this.”
The older wolf understood.
For Tavin, kitchens had meant work.
Obligation.
Someone watching the clock.
Someone deciding whether he’d done enough to deserve whatever meager pay remained after deductions.
But here, in Freya’s galley, he was simply helping prepare a meal.
There was no supervisor.
No debt.
No collar.
Just two wolves standing side by side, making food for people they cared about.
Thane smiled warmly.
“Then we’ll have to do it more often.”
Tavin’s tail gave a small wag.
“I’d like that.”
They finished the preparation and packed everything away for the following day.
Tavin cleaned the cutting board.
Thane wiped down the counters.
Then the young wolf glanced toward the refrigerator.
“Hey.”
“What?”
“Can I ask something?”
Thane laughed.
“Of course.”
“What’s the secret ingredient in your chili?”
Thane slowly turned.
Tavin grinned.
“Oh, come on.”
“Nope.”
“Seriously?”
“Family secret.”
Tavin folded his arms.
“I’m family.”
Thane stopped.
For a moment, he simply looked at the young wolf.
Tavin’s expression shifted.
He hadn’t meant to make a point.
He’d just said it.
Naturally.
Without thinking.
Thane smiled.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “You are.”
Tavin’s ears lifted.
Thane reached into a cabinet and removed a small sealed container.
He opened it.
Inside were several pieces of dark imported Earth chocolate.
Tavin blinked.
“Chocolate?”
Thane nodded.
“Very dark chocolate. Just a little. It rounds out the bitterness and deepens the savory flavors.”
Tavin stared.
“You put chocolate in chili?”
“Yep.”
“Does Gabriel know?”
Thane grinned.
“Of course.”
Tavin looked toward the corridor.
Then slowly smiled.
“Oh, this is going to be fun.”
Thane narrowed his eyes.
“Don’t you dare.”
Tavin laughed.
“No promises.”
Later that evening, the four wolves gathered in the common room.
Mark had completed a preliminary inspection of the sequencing controller and was extremely pleased with its condition.
Gabriel had restrung his guitar and was quietly playing a gentle instrumental melody from the couch.
Tavin sat nearby with his new diagnostic analyzer, exploring the menus and experimenting with a small test circuit.
Thane relaxed in his favorite chair with a mug of tea.
For a while, nobody spoke.
The music filled the room.
Soft, warm, and surprisingly beautiful.
Tavin looked up from his analyzer.
“Hey, Gabriel?”
Gabriel continued playing.
“Hmm?”
“That sounds really good.”
The black wolf glanced over.
“Thanks.”
Tavin smiled.
“No, seriously.”
Gabriel’s expression softened.
He played a few more notes.
Then nodded.
“Appreciate it, kid.”
Mark looked up from his terminal.
“You know, we should get you to play more often.”
Gabriel smiled.
“Maybe.”
Thane leaned back.
“I’d like that.”
Gabriel continued the melody.
Tavin returned his attention to the analyzer.
Mark resumed reading.
And Thane looked around the room.
He thought about the day.
About the old machinery warehouse.
About laughing with Mark over memories that had seemed almost forgotten.
About Gabriel finding a fellow musician on a distant space station.
About Tavin buying his first professional tool.
About the young wolf standing in the galley and casually saying, I’m family.
Thane smiled.
Yes.
He was.
And perhaps that was the best thing about the day.
Not the shopping.
Not the food.
Not even the memories.
It was the realization that Freya’s story was still being written.
The original three wolves had spent years building a ship and a life together.
Now there were four.
And the next chapter of their shared history had already begun.
A little later, Gabriel finished playing and set his guitar aside.
Tavin looked up.
“Hey.”
Gabriel sighed.
“What?”
“I’ve got a question.”
“Of course you do.”
“Can you teach me to play?”
Gabriel blinked.
Thane looked over.
Mark smiled.
The black wolf studied Tavin for a moment.
Then slowly grinned.
“You want to learn guitar?”
Tavin shrugged.
“Yeah.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Gabriel considered that.
Then nodded.
“Sure.”
Tavin’s ears lifted.
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
The young wolf smiled.
“Cool.”
Gabriel picked up the guitar.
“First lesson tomorrow.”
Tavin nodded enthusiastically.
“Sounds good.”
Gabriel’s grin widened.
“And I’m going to be a very demanding teacher.”
Tavin smiled sweetly.
“That’s okay. I’m used to dealing with difficult personalities.”
Thane laughed.
Mark chuckled.
Gabriel pointed at the young wolf.
“You haven’t even started yet, and you’re already getting on my nerves.”
Tavin grinned.
“Natural talent.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“God help me.”
And the common room filled with laughter once again.
Outside, Hesper Transfer Station continued its endless bustle of commerce and travel.
Freighters arrived.
Cargo changed hands.
Thousands of people went about their lives.
And tucked away in Cargo Berth Forty-Two, an old industrial salvage ship rested quietly.
Her machinery was warm.
Her systems were healthy.
Her crew was happy.
And somewhere deep within her hull, four wolves were building a lifetime of memories.
One ordinary day at a time.