FREELANCER. BOOK ONE of the FREELANCER SERIES

FREELANCER

Trent Jordan woke up feeling pretty great.  "Today is the big day!" was his first thought.  "Thank you Jesus!" he said aloud as he got out of bed "I am going home!".
'Well not quite yet' his brain countered, there was still a lot to do.  But still, "I am going home!" Trent reasserted to the room around him as he headed to the bathroom.
After doing his morning duty, Trent splashed cold water in his face and looked at his reflection in the sink mirror. 'Not too bad.' he thought, 'For a thirty-one year old spacer.'
Trent turned to put on his clothes when a very solidly built object at his feet caused him to trip.  Pinwheeling his arms, Trent half stumbled, half fell back into his room.
"Goddamnit Nostromo!"
Nostromo was a large orange tomcat with a head the size of a softball, Trent's one and only permanent passenger.
"Mrroww" the big Tom replied as he commenced licking his paw and grooming his ears.
Trent began putting on his clothes.  "You know you are going to make me break my neck one of these mornings."
Nostromo got to his feet and padded after his human as Trent left the room.  The painted blast door quietly whooshing open and closed as they passed into the galley/dining room/common area.
The living compartment's lighting increased to the day cycle as Trent made his way to galley coffee pot. It too was automatically set to brew at 0700 and the aroma of fresh coffee filled the space.  Trent retrieved his coffee mug and Nostromo's two bowl food dish from the dishwasher underneath the galley counter; first filling his mug and leaning back against the counter to savor his first sip of morning coffee. The coffee was  named Traneillo, a local coffee only produced in his hometown of Gaeta.  Rich, strong, and delicious it is the only coffee his family has used for many generations.
Nostromo gave a questioning meow.  Trent got a cat food packet out of the cupboard; lamb, vegetables, and rice flavor this morning, and the milk out of the fridge.  Filling both bowls he sat Nostromo's dish on the deck.  The tom wasted no time.
First things first, Trent topped off his coffee and sat down at the galley table. Before him was a very large, very old book. He took another sip of his coffee and then lovingly placed his hand upon the worn leather bound cover.  It was his grandfather, Tobias Jordan's, Bible.
Trent opened the cover and read the hand written inscription on the first blank page:

Our first anniversary
May 2, 842AS

To my beloved husband,

May God's Light guide you through the stars
and back home to me.

Your loving wife,
Gajeta

Though the black ink was faded on the slightly yellowed page his grandmother's penmanship was still flowing and elegant, beautiful in its long curves and swooping arches.
Trent's eyes lift to the large portrait centered on the opposite bulkhead.  There on painted canvas, surrounded by a huge, richly carved, glossy wooden frame was his grandmother, Gajeta Sophia Jordan, smiling benevolently and angelic down upon him.  She had truly been a beautiful woman, the type of beauty that was timeless and could literally take a man's breath away.  She had the classic Italy features, sparkling almond eyes, lush full lips, a cascading mane of dark hair that even though it was piled and pinned atop her head still flowed over her bare shoulders in a luxurious wave. In the portrait she wore a Mediterranean Sea blue dress, trimmed in white lace; cut low off her shoulders exposing the tops of two large creamy white breasts.  Around her neck was a blue and white choker with a seashell carved cameo of the Virgin Mary.  Her eyes radiated love and excitement and unquestioning devotion to her then very young and handsome husband.
'Grandpa, you married a babe.' Trent thought as he had done so many times in the past.
He turned his attention back to the Bible before him and opened it to Proverbs.

Nonno Tobias read this Bible everyday since his beloved wife gave it him on their first anniversary until he handed the family business and his captaincy to his oldest son Taylor Jordan, Trent's father.  The Bible went with the ship and Taylor Jordan read it to every morning until he was ready to pass the family mantle down to his son. 
Now Trent read the Lord's Word and held an unbroken legacy that started two generations before.
He looked again at his Nonna's portrait, but this time regarded the two smaller portraits flanking her on either side.  Tobias Jordan on her left and Taylor Jordan on her right.  One day his portrait might be there to, maybe underneath theirs.  But that day was a long time away.
Today was the day that mattered now.
Trent finished his daily reading and closed the old tome.  Pouring the last of the coffee into his mug Trent picked his own breakfast out of the freezer: two pre-made sausage, egg, and cheese biscuits; and popped them into the processor. Ten seconds later the biscuits were piping hot.  Trent set the plate on the counter, poured himself a glass of cranberry pomegranate juice and had his breakfast.
"Feed the spirit, then feed the body."  His father told him many times during Trent's apprenticeship. And Trent had endeavored to keep it in that order these past two years.
But now with the empty mug, glass, and plate resting in the dishwasher; it was time to get to work.