When you’ve been out in space for as long as Jack has you begin to miss the little things. You know, like flush toilets, solid food, a blue sky. Hell, he hadn’t seen a human woman in decades and had just about forgotten what they looked like, or smelled like. You know, holographic images only go so far. Then there was the fresh air. He’d been breathing that recirculated shit for ages and his lungs were caked solid with the processed gunk that routinely accumulated in those old ships. He could hardly walk a flight of stairs now because his breathing was so inhibited. Though he was told a few months of medical rehab would get his lungs back to that of a 20 year old’s. He’d believe it when he actually experienced it. And the artificial gravity had played a number on his balance. Seems those early cargo freighters suffered from more than faulty navigation systems. Let’s just say that synthetic gravity has come a long way since Jack had first left Earth. But now that he was back, for real this time, what was he going to do? His family and friends had long since died. Though he had some distant cousin that was the son of a son of a long lost relative of his. The kid was probably an asshole though. At least they were serving meatloaf today. email: [email protected] web: www.michaeloster.com