Mother Mars: Book One: Mother Earth

De: W. G. Sweet

Narrado por: Virtual Voice

Lee Crow:
Year 2196. Captain Lee Crow leaned back in his pilot's chair as Eagle One slid into Moon Base 14's docking bay with that familiar metallic groan. His fingers flew over the controls, years of muscle memory making the landing look easier than it was. This rustbucket of a cruiser had cost him most of his savings fresh out of college - worth every credit, even if the maintenance fees kept him awake at night sometimes. His great-grandpa would've never imagined this life, back when people still picked their own careers instead of getting Life Mapped from birth. Four years at Specialty College, trade school, then mandatory military service had shaped him differently.

The Mars-Io supply run was routine by now, but seventeen months of flying solo was wearing him thin. He needed a damn navigator. Scrolling through candidates, he nearly choked on his coffee when he realized "Pete Stanovich" was actually Nia Stanovich - some clerical screw-up in the system. Lee canceled the meeting last minute. First impressions mattered, and showing up in his grease-stained flight suit wouldn't cut it.

Nia Stanovich:
Visitor Lounge 7 smelled like recycled air and cheap synth-coffee. Nia drummed her fingers on the table, trying not to count how many credits she had left. The terrorist bombing that took her parents had left her with more than grief - a mountain of unpaid Life Taxes and zero inheritance. This job on Eagle One wasn't just employment; it was survival.

When Lee finally led her to the bridge, her boots clicked against the metal flooring with satisfying gravity. Full-grav on an intra-system cruiser? That was fancy. As Lee explained the gig - independent command, weird cargo including some segregated inmates - she kept her face neutral. Her military records were solid, but actual flight hours? Basically nil. Didn't stop Lee from hiring her on the spot though.

"Welcome aboard," he said, handing her a crew tablet. She took it with slightly sweaty palms.

Thirty minutes later, Nia's hands danced across the nav console as Eagle One shuddered free of the docking clamps. Behind her, Lee muttered coordinates into the log, his voice steady. The ship groaned like an old man getting out of bed, then surged forward into the black.