Hetchtechmechanic

I knew one day, my precious friend, we'd have to say goodbye. For the time would come, as it always will, when both of us would die. Chances were, you'd be the first. Mother nature works that way. But your time happened way too soon. And that was yesterday. The things I'd planned, to do with you. The long drives we would take. The foods we'd eat, the folks we'd meet. All that would start, today. But the moments I'd prepared for, and the words I'd hoped to say. Sailed off like ships, in the morning breeze. just like yesterday. The week before, the days up to, All seemed just like they should. But yesterday caught me by surprise. The news was nothing good. So now you wander, in heavenly bliss, and I was left to say. I love you now and forever more... just like yesterday. Marty McSpaniel Miller. May 18th, 2007- July 20th, 2023

"Hello! hello, hello, hello." the sound of the Terran's voice echoed. "Is there anybody in here? here? Here?" The Terran finished removing his spacesuit, discarding it on the floor next to his helmet, while the Luxan kept guard over the lock entrance.  The human's regulation Quorum uniform of gray pants and shirt contrasted with his tan plate carrier containing spare magazines of red tip sabot explosive ammunition. The Terran also brought up his personally generated E screen, and added one to his friend, without telling him. The Luxan spoke; "It appears to be a dead ship, Cowboy." "Do you sense anything?" "No Fa'nael, I do not." The Terran replied. " Just the same, I think I'll look around." He flicked the safety off on his carbine and brought it to his shoulder, then stepped through the airlock and looked both directions down the long hallways, noting the arches and flickering lights. He sniffed the air. Something seemed familiar, yet different.  Apparently, Fa'nael could not discern