It was less than even odds that they would even be able to leave this rock, labeled Q-13-27-a, affectionately called Homeworld by its inhabitants.
No, Earth is your Homeworld. This a terraformed colony. Barely even that. Jason hated how quickly colonists seemed to abandon their ties to the rest of humanity, pretending that the planet they were on was where humanity really got started and that Earth was somehow less cultured, or advanced, or informed, or, or , or. Something always seem to set a new colony apart, that made it better than where humanity first got started. And everywhere else, for that matter.
“No one gets left behind. That’s not what we do” the old man started in his head again.
You’re not here anymore, Old man. I am.
That kid is a menace and he’s going to get someone killed if he doesn’t keep his orders. If he can’t do that, he can’t stay on my ship.
“We don’t do that, kid. You’re acting like a child. A menace. If you can’t keep simple orders, you can’t be part of a crew. Stay with the ship.”
That kindly but quite firm gaze bored holes through his memory. He had just wanted to bring a a few grenades (hidden, of course) to a potentially explosive party – a meeting with a mercenary with a penchant for violence. Jason practically insisted on bringing a little extra firepower.
“You’ll wish I was there if you’re come back dead!” he said, almost spitting the last word. Right. Reviewing the film reminded him that he had insisted on being the extra firepower.
The long gangway receded, a mixture of frustration at Jason’s insolence and amusement at his antics did battle on his face, calling a truce with the aforementioned gaze.
Of course he came back alive. Captain always did. Or, rather, always had. Later over a keg brewed by Earthen and microbrewery (called Pumpernickel as Jason recalled, which actually tasted way better than it sounds) they had made amends like they always did.
“Orders are what keep us alive, both in the void and on land. You’ve got to remember that. It will keep you in the clear during normal times. And it will keep your people alive when things get hot.
Not for the first time did Jason reflect that the old man might have been preparing him to Captain his own ship. And not for the first time he mused, I’m sure he didn’t mean it to start like this.
As Jason neared the sometimes still smoldering heap of twisted metal, plastic and electronics that miraculously kept out enough of the void to safely land on this barely hospitable rock, he remembered that he was supposed to be the captain and had a part to play; he straightened, firmed his face, and did a proper officer march up the open gangway and into the still beating heart of his wounded Warhorse.