Chapter 12It had been a brutal day. Sartre was tasked to work on a B-class ship but before he could complete his quality control checks, the floor supervisor directed Sartre to conduct a diagnostic of an A-class ship that was slated to return to Terra in two days. He was happy to be home.
Jón and Anna approached Sartre.
“We have something to talk to you about,” Anna said. “Do you mind?”
Sartre had just gotten off work and was washing his hands. Jón had left work early and left Sartre in the hangar to finish up their assignment.
While Anna stood there silently, next to Jón, Sartre took a small knife to clean under his fingernails, whistling a tune his mother used to sing. The grease and grime took a while, as usual, to come off, but he was patient. Satisfied that his hands to elbows wer
