Mitra Base, Lunar Highlands

The rocket touched down with a whisper at the Hawking Point Spaceport. “Simurgh is down and stable.” The response from the landing crew was near instant, as usual. “Roger that, Simurgh. You are clear to disembark.” I stared at the grizzled veteran in the seat next to me. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”  

He reached for a small mic from his relaxed position. His battered nametag, the weathered text spelling “Robards”, glinted as he leaned back up. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. We are clear to disembark. Those of you going to Alpha base please proceed to the shuttle Tydirium to our direct north.  Everyone else please follow the landing crew with orange lights. Thank you for flying with us.”

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I leaned over, grabbing my helmet. “You’re getting old, Han.” I teased. Unlike his usual faux-insulted reaction, he considered it, thoughtful. “Yeah, I guess I am,” He finally replied, “And I might as well tell you now. I’m retiring.” The helmet hit the floor with a muted ‘clank’. “You’re what?!” He grinned. “Yeah, you heard me. I’ve lived a good, long life, and I just want to go home to my wife and spoil my grandkids rotten.” “But who’s going to take care of the ship?” “We might want to start walking.” He fastened his helmet, and got up.

As we walked down the long glass tunnels of the spaceport, he turned to me. I’ve gone through a bunch of Navigators in my life, and until now, I’ve only found one worthy of the Simurgh.” He turned, and smiled at me. “Safe journeys, commander.” Stunned, I watched his form retreat down the spaceport. I noticed the badge he'd slipped into my hand. “Safe journeys, you sly bastard."