The Last Job

He saw them again. The two most important people in his life. The only two people he loved.

Thomas Freeman stepped off the transport and gazed at the vast crowd of kids on shoulders. A beautiful blond woman stood in the stream of families, gripping a stroller with his precious six-month-old son.

He sprinted to them, his heart pounding with anticipation and pride.

He smelled the baby shampoo as he bent down to kiss his boy on the forehead.

He stood up and stared into her deep blue eyes.

His palm on her lower back, he pulled her toward him. He felt her waist, her bottom, her body against his.

Thomas didn’t care about the swarm of people. After being away for eight months of training, the lust for her consumed him. He inhaled her exotic perfume, the kind she only wore on special occasions. She knew it was his favorite.

As he kissed the woman of his dreams, all he thought of was home. He pondered his two weeks of shore leave, rocking his son to sleep, and getting his wife out of those clothes.

Then he woke up.

The room was blacker than the interstellar void outside his window. And it was every bit as frigid. Thomas’ right hand was outstretched on the spot next to him, as if she was there.

But, just like always, the spot was empty.

And, just like always, he listened for two seconds. He hoped to hear his son crying in the adjacent room. But there was silence.

He had the dream hundreds of times now. Each time, Thomas had to compose himself as he remembered his reality.

He was alone. He had been alone for 25 years.

He sat up and gawked at the stars, clearing his head of the loneliness and emptiness that gripped his subconscious every night.

He checked his wristwatch for new messages and saw one from an unknown number.

“ASO bar at 1900,” it read. He knew who the message was from.

His aching joints and sore muscles allowed him to creep out of bed and get dressed. Each day, the pain would return. His back, knees, and feet hated him for still doing this job. This was a young man’s game, and Thomas was not young anymore.

He packed his clothes in a small carryon bag and strolled toward the door of his spartan apartment. Only one picture hung in the entire room. The woman and child from his dream. She wore her purple sunglasses that day and held their son. Thomas knew every detail of that photograph, the only decor in his locker during eight months of basic. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Hell, it was a lifetime ago.

The memory of them was a source of peace he found each day. And simultaneously, the greatest source of pain. He slung the carryon over his shoulder and left the apartment.

Thomas made the short walk to the first level of the station. The Poseidon Station orbited Poseidon Three, a colossal gas giant famous for its infinite and diverse mineral deposits. A plethora of apartments, shops, and restaurants lined the inside of the station. The amenities were meant for employees from dozens of different companies, all rushing to get a piece of the gas giant’s riches. The outpost was not known for its eye-catching architecture, but it had been Thomas’ home for the past twenty years. It was a constant in a life of travel and chaos.

And the site housed another pleasure he allowed himself to indulge. Pete’s Diner was on the lower level, next to the docking bays. It was one of many eateries in the station, most of which were as harsh as their customers.

Thomas didn’t just go there for the food. As he strolled through the double doors, he saw her pouring coffee into a patron’s mug.

Abigale Frances.

She was a sweet face in a galaxy full of hostility. After her father died, she took over the diner, which flourished under her personality and cooking. Her stunning looks didn’t hurt. Abby’s 47 years could pass for 27, a petite thin build, long brown hair in a ponytail, and thoughtful hazel eyes.

He’s one of hundreds of men that eat at the diner every day, but he always seemed to catch her attention without trying. Or maybe it’s the hope that kills. Either way, as he sat down at the bar, she stole a glance and smiled.

“Be there in a sec, hon,” she said, with a slight country drawl.

She walked to him with a stack of plates in one hand and an empty coffee pot in the other.

“Let me guess,” she said. “Gronolian steak and eggs, with dark roast coffee.”

“Is it that obvious?” Thomas asked. Even in this moment of elation, he kept his face straight, no hint of a smile.

“Coming right up,” she said.

She poured a bowl of egg yolk onto the already hot grill, the slab of steak sizzling next to it. His mind wandered as he stared at her perfect backside. She probably grew tired of every man doing it, but he couldn’t help himself.

She grabbed a plate and scooped the steak and eggs onto it.

“Did you hear the big news,” she asked him. She set the plate on the table in front of him.

“What’s that,” Thomas asked, shaking himself out of a daydream.

“Food N Stuff is buying the place,” she said. “They’ve finally figured out what my breaking point is,” she said with a smile.

“So much for being your own boss until the day you die. Isn’t that what you said?”

“Oh, I’ll still be my own boss, just not here. When someone offers you a quarter of a billion credits, I figured it’s best to at least consider.”

“Billion… with a b?”

“You danged right,” she said, that adorable country drawl making another appearance.

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Shoot, that’s enough to run away with. I’ve always dreamed of living on Seneca Three.”

“Yeah, haven’t we all,” Thomas said, scooping up a forkful of eggs and steak.

“Buy me a little log cabin, grow my own vegetables, go hiking. Maybe go swimming in a little pond nestled between the mountains. Stare at the three moons.”

“Sounds boring,” Thomas said.

“Sounds like paradise,” she said.

Thomas inhaled his breakfast, then looked at his watch. “About that time.”

“Already? You just got here.”

“Company needs me in the Araios system.”

“I’ve been wondering, what is it you do for them anyway? They got you traveling all over.”

She had asked him that before. He never knew how to answer.

“Oh, a few odd jobs here and there.”

“I see,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows.

“I best be off,” he said. He left a ten-credit tip, more than twice the cost of his meal. She was used to it from him. He stood up from the stool and started walking away.

“Be careful. That’s a hell of a long trip,” she said.

“I can’t imagine what a short trip feels like,” he said.