Journey: A Galactic Silk Road Story

Bio-age 23 years, 8 months

"I remember when I left on my journey. It feels like a thousand years ago now." The line, as usual, was met with polite chuckles. Taryn had been hearing such comments from his parents his whole life. Ugh. So cliche. Why does he have to embarrass me, now of all times? Taryn thought.

"Journey isn't just about adventure. It's about growth. About knowledge. About meeting and learning from others. Not everyone is cut out for it." At this point, Kaelin paused. He looked Taryn directly in the eye. Is he crying? Taryn worried. Please, let's just get through this.

Kaelin reached down to the table, carefully picked up his glass, and held it aloft. "To my eldest son, Taryn. I'm so proud that you've decided to go on a Journey as well. We're going to miss you. Godspeed!" With that, all the assembled guests, all of Taryn's friends and family, virtually everyone who meant anything to him, raised their glasses in unison and toasted his successful Journey.

---

The next morning was the big day. Taryn had been looking forward to it since he was 16. For seven long years, he'd dreamed of finally escaping the boredom and doldrums of Vectra and finding true adventure. But now that the moment was at hand, the gravity of the situation was finally settling in. He could feel the butterflies in his stomach, the slight shake in his hands, and the fine layer of sweat that suddenly coated his forehead.

"I know you'd never admit to being nervous," Kaelin said. "I know I was terribly nervous before I left on my Journey."

"Come on Dad..." began Taryn.

"I know, you're strong, you're excited, and you're not me. I'm just saying, if there is any anxiety under the surface, I just want to tell you: you're going to do great."

Kaelin stopped his sentence abruptly and stood looking uncomfortable. After a pause, he said, "Taryn, I love you. And I'm going to miss you."

Taryn wanted to stand strong, to show that he was a real man, to show no emotions. But here was his father, the strongest person Taryn knew, tearing up twice in as many days.

"Oh, come here!" his mother, Soren, said. She rushed over and grabbed Taryn in a bear hug that only a mother could pull off. "Be safe, be smart, be strong." Taryn put his arms around his mother, put his head on her shoulder, and cried. He wept like a baby, like he hadn't done in years. Kaelin came over and wrapped his arms around the two of them.

They stood like that for five minutes, just outside Taryn's new home, wrapped in each other's arms, and cried freely.

Finally, his parents let him go, stood back, and held hands. They didn't need to say anything else. No requests to write home, no final warnings. Everything had been said. Kaelin and Soren stood there, holding hands, as Taryn walked into his new home, engaged the seals, activated the drive, and launched into space.

His Journey had officially begun.

Bio-age 23 years, 11 months

Taryn was above manual labor. He was smart, he was cultured. He had a plan for his Journey. He'd saved up plenty of nakas and had been living off them for the past three months. Three bio-months, he reminded himself. Most of the time had been spent in a nearby hub, Nexus Relay. It was located near the midpoint between his home planet of Vectra and its closest neighboring inhabited planet, Novara.

He was about 15 lightyears from home. At relativistic speeds, it had only taken a total of 4 bio-weeks in total, split up into a few stops for entertainment at smaller Relays along the way. But Nexus was the real deal. He'd been docked for about four days now and was starting to adapt to the station's day/night cycle.

His parents had sent him monthly letters, which meant that he now had about 180 messages from them. They understood the time dilation well. They should, of course. It had allowed them to live 1,000 chrono-years already. They knew that, for him, it had only been a few months. They never demanded any responses. Even stranger, their letters seemed to have a timeless quality. They would mention some day-to-day events, but they knew these would be unimportant to him. By the time he read them, whatever silly dramas existed back on Vectra would be long resolved.

To be honest though, he'd stopped reading the letters a few weeks back, just skimming them. He had more important things to do.

"Another round for my friends!" he called out. Cheers from around the bar greeted him. He pulled out his comm and casually dropped another 5 million nakas on the drinks. Nexus Relay wasn't as cheap as Vectra, which had an AME--Average Monthly Expenditure--of 30 million nakas. Nexus was a Relay Hub, which meant lots of visitors, lots of imports, and lots of incoming money. Here, AME was closer to 100 million nakas.

He tried to avoid it, but he glimpsed the remaining balance on his comm. It was down to 100 million nakas, give or take. He'd started this journey with a billion. No matter, he thought. Once I get used to life on the station, I'll start trading, and I'll be golden. Vectra was an agricultural planet, and had some of the most delicious dried fruit in the colonized galaxy. He'd sold half his inventory on the Vectra Relay Station #3 for 200 million nakas, and farther out from Vectra it should be even more valuable.

"It's certainly none of my business to tell a customer how to spend his money," said the older man behind the bar. "But you have the look of someone fresh on his Journey. You may want to hold onto your nakas, you never know when you'll need them."

"Thanks, but I think I'll be OK," said Taryn, downing his drink. With that, he stood up from the bar, walked over to the table with the highest female-to-male ratio in the bar, and asked if anyone wanted a refill. He wasn't planning on sleeping alone tonight.

---

"The best price I can do is 15,000 nakas per kilogram," said the storekeeper.

"That's crazy!" said Taryn. "I just sold 4,000 kilograms of dried lotan at 50,000 nakas each! Why are you lowballing me?"

The storekeeper laughed. "That attitude isn't going to work around here. We have a steady supply of lotan from the autoconvoys. Standard rate is 12,000 nakas. You're right that you brought some high-quality stuff, that village you come from certainly knows its farming. I can sell at a premium, but I'll be lucky to get 20,000 nakas each."

"Then give me 20,000 for them!"

The storekeeper laughed again, but this time it sounded like Taryn had used up his patience. "You find the customers. You can sell to them directly for whatever price they'll give you. But our business is done. Have a good day son."

It chafed to still be treated as a child. And he didn't want to admit it, but he knew he'd been acting like a spoiled brat. It's just that he'd already been to three other storekeepers on the station, and none of them would offer him more than 16,000 nakas each. No matter. He'd make this work. He headed over to the nearest restaurant, ordered a coffee, and pulled out his comm.

Clearly his best bet was to take his supply somewhere he could get a better price. He could look up commodity prices anywhere in the galaxy, but it always had the speed-of-light delay on information. The prices could--and would--vary drastically by the time he got to his next destination.

His mother had tried to warn him about this and explain the risks of relying solely on trading for a livelihood. But it had all seemed so simple before. Go to a higher AME station, sell his wares at a huge markup, fly back to cheaper regions and buy a new stock, rinse and repeat.

It's just the beginning, I'll get the hang of this.

One of the advantages of a major hub was the cheap energy prices. He could pick up enough antimatter to keep his home running for the next 5 bio-years for less than 3 million nakas. That would be enough to carry him far from home.

"OK, check out AMEs from the stations in a 20 light year radius from my current location."

The comm paused for a fraction of a second as it requested data from the tens of thousands of interconnected systems. Data access was cheap thankfully, the full payments for all this information would be less than 10 nakas. "Information gathered."

"OK, cross reference that with the entertainment index on each station, give a weight of 5 to the AME, and prefer higher AMEs. Give a weight of 7 to the entertainment index, favoring better entertainment of course."

His screen flashed, and a few names popped up. The third on the list, Helion Relay, sounded familiar. He pulled up its information. It was only 5 light years from the current location, and almost on a direct trajectory away from Vectra. And its AME was 200 million nakas. With all of his finagling this morning, he was down to 90 million nakas, but he still had half his lotan supply. Surely a high-AME planet, closer to the industrial hub of Novara, would pay handsomely for it.

There was no point in sitting around longer. He'd already checked out the bars, clubs, and other recreation on Nexus Relay. He finished his cup of coffee, left a generous tip for the cute waitress, and headed over to the supplier section of the station. With another 10 million spent, he had enough antimatter, food, water, and backup parts for another 2 bio-years in space.

The drones would handle the resupply, so he leisurely headed back to his ship. He pulled open the station's catalog on his main display and chose a collection of games and movies to entertain himself for the next 5 bio-days of flight. It was cheap, only 2 million more nakas.

He checked on the drones, and he had another 30 minutes to kill before he'd be ready to leave. Not enough time to start a game or watch a movie, and he didn't really feel like watching the local feeds. He had to admit that he wasn't really a fan of the local accent or their comedy.

I could send a message back to Mom and Dad, he thought. He'd thought that many times since his Journey began. He told himself that he had nothing to say to them, that running back to Mommy and Daddy wasn't what adults on their Journey did. He closed his message app, set his ship on autopilot, and took a nap. By the time he woke up again, 5 hours had passed for him, and about 6 months for his parents. And like clockwork, he had 6 more messages waiting for him. He left them unread.

Bio-age 24 years, 3 months

The lighting in the room was weird. It wasn't dark, yet didn't feel bright. It somehow felt smoky, though there weren't any fires. The electronic whizzing and beeping from the machines gave the room an air of frivolity, which was very much at odds with how he was feeling.

He glanced at his cards again. He knew it was a nervous tell, but he couldn't help it. He had pocket kings, with a two, four, and jack on the table. He couldn't pull out his comm to check, but he was pretty sure he had an unbeatable hand.

He'd finally given up fully on trading. It turned out that all his guesses were wrong. No one wanted lotan on this fucking station. Too sweet, they said. Apparently, it was little more than a local delicacy. Why didn't somebody warn me, he thought to himself for the thousandth time. Surely his parents had known. Why did his mother let him fly off with such worthless cargo?

No matter. He finally had the hang of this game. It had been well worth the investment of the last of his nakas to figure it out. Yes, the losses were upsetting, but he still had 5 million nakas, all on the table in front of him. "I'm all in," he said, pushing the appropriate button on the table. A holographic image of piles of gold coins moved to the pot in the center.

"I fold."

"Me too."

The young woman across the table from him locked eyes. She was beautiful, and she'd been eyeing him all evening. He planned on inviting her to see his ship after the game. He was sure she'd never seen such an advanced design. Vectran ships were known for their elegance.

Her words snapped him out of his fantasy. "I call." She tapped a button, and another pile of gold coins moved into the pot, this time from in front of her. A few other players stayed in, and the betting continued. Taryn had nothing to do now, or even to worry about. He had the best hand possible, and he was guaranteed to walk away from this round with a solid 25 million nakas.

The young woman was no longer looking at him. He was sure she realized her mistake in calling, and didn't want to embarrass herself further. It was fine, he thought, he'd buy her something nice with the winnings.

Another two cards were played, a queen followed by a five. That was it, he thought, no one could beat his hand. He sat back, waiting for the dealer program to reveal the cards to everyone. There were four players left in the round. Himself, the young woman, and two older women he didn't care about. One had a three and a five. Apparently, she'd been hoping for a straight. The next had a pair of tens. She was feeling pretty good about herself until Taryn's kings popped up. The small crowd around the table murmured approvingly.

He looked up and saw the young woman making eye contact with him again. She didn't look scared. She didn't look angry. She looked... what was that emotion? Was that pity?

Her cards on the table blinked and the numbers appeared. A pair of aces.

He'd won! "It was a pleasure doing--" he began, until the gold coins moved to her side of the table. "What?!?" he yelled in surprise. Everyone looked at him with astonishment. "The program is broken, I won! I had the kings!"

An awkward pause occupied the next ten seconds. Finally, someone from the crowd said, "maybe the rules are different where you come from. But here, aces beat kings."

"That's ridiculous! No one plays that way. Someone must have cheated!"

Everyone looked away. He realized too late what he'd said. An accusation of cheating may be normal between kids back on Vectra when playing some children's games. But accusing someone of cheating in financial affairs was a brand-new level.

"Sir," said a voice over his shoulder, "I believe you've been at this table quite long enough. Allow us to buy you a drink. And after that, please leave and do not come back to this establishment."

Mustering what remaining pride he could, he stood up, turned away from the table, and walked out the door, back to the station's main promenade. He really wanted that drink, but it would cost him too much of his remaining pride to accept the handout.

Bio-age 26 years, 2 months

It had taken six more bio-months, but he'd finally found a buyer for the lotan. He didn't want to admit it, but it had been nothing more than luck. He'd docked at a station and met a trading convoy. They were headed off to the other side of the galaxy and had offered him 60,000 nakas a kilogram. That 240 million nakas had let him resume a more normal course of life again. Six months of food rations and stale games and videos had been a humbling lesson. But he'd made it as a trader.

With 50 million of those nakas, he'd purchased a collection of spices, artwork, and clothing at a nearby low-AME station. It was all locally constructed, no imports, bringing the price down. He was sure he'd find a buyer for this stuff at a higher-AME station nearby, turn a profit, and finally get his Journey restarted correctly.

Unfortunately, besides his cargo, he was down to 10 million nakas, low on rations, almost out of antimatter, and no closer to finding a buyer. No one wanted his merchandise. He couldn't even find a break-even buyer, and he'd been trying to sell this shit for over a year now.

What's the name of this station? he thought blearily. He'd been to a few bars already today. How far was this station from the nearest star? The antimatter was expensive here, as was the alcohol. He'd just stop for another few drinks and then call it a day.

Bio-age 26 years, 3 months

Taryn took a small amount of satisfaction in knowing that he was true to his word. He had, in fact, had a few more drinks and then called it a day. And the same thing the next day. And the following. Soon enough, he'd spent an entire month on this God forsaken out-of-the-way relay. It was an important part of the local mining operations apparently. He knew; too many drinking companions had bored him to death with tales of ore surveys, controlled explosions, the mechanics of automated drone construction, and the fleets of delivery drones going back and forth from the nearest planet to make it work. And as it happened, that nearest planet was Vectra.

It also turned out that his lotan fruit would have made a killing on this station. He'd kept a few cases from his original supply to remind him of home and had shared a sample with a bar buddy. They'd never tasted the lotans from his home village. But his new cargo? Completely worthless here.

He was friendly with the bartender of the local bar. This useless station only had one bar, where the alcohol was both pricey and had a lousy selection. Someone could really make a killing if they fixed that. No one seemed interested. Too busy with mining. How could people care more about rocks than booze?

The bartender smiled on seeing Taryn. Which wasn't really a surprise, he was probably his best customer. How many nakas had he spent here? He could check on his comm, but why bother. "I'll have the usual," he said, placing his comm on the scanner.

A new sound came out, a quick beep. He'd never heard it before. The screen said, "insufficient balance."

"Sorry kid, looks like you're out of money."

Taryn had never felt this before. He was in the middle of nowhere. He had worthless cargo. He had no money. He had barely enough emergency rations on his ship to last another month. And he didn't have enough antimatter to get somewhere civilized.

Dejectedly, he walked back to his ship, lay down on his bed, and went to sleep.

Bio-age 26 years, 4 months

The rations were gone. The antimatter was barely enough to power at-rest systems. The docking lease was going to expire in two days.

He did math he'd never had to do before. He had to figure out how much money he'd need to get somewhere else. Anywhere else. But even that wasn't helpful. How would going to a new station help? He had worthless cargo, no skills, no money. He was failing his Journey.

"Computer," he began, "help me out here. What options do I have?"

"Hi Taryn, good morning. I assume you are referring to your financial situation. I see four options for you. One: you could exchange your ship and cargo for a ride to another station. Caveat: you would be in the same situation when you arrive at the next station. Two: you could instead look for a ride to your home planet and abandon your Journey. Three: you can seek employment. Four: you could ask someone for assistance."

Why didn't I think of that? he thought to himself. "Thanks computer."

He was disgusted with himself, but his very first thought was to ask his parents for assistance. To be fair, he'd be contemplating that off and on for a few days already, but hearing the computer say it finally forced the matter. He'd checked, and through all of his meandering and circling, he'd ended up only two lightyears from home. For him, it hadn't yet been three years. For his parents, thirty years had passed. They'd be in their bio-age nineties by now. Still young, but deep into their retirement thanks to the fortunes they made on their own Journeys.

What was a billion nakas to them? They'd happily give it to him! The problem though was one of time. It would take two years for his message to make it to them, and another two years for the nakas to make it back. If he could engage relativistic travel, he could make that work, but he didn't have the money to make that happen. And if he booked random voyages with others--if he could even convince them to let him travel with them--he wouldn't know which network to ask his parents to send his nakas to.

No, his parents weren't an option. Never mind the embarrassment that in three years of travels, he hadn't sent them a single real message. How could he? He was a failure. All he would do was embarrass and worry them. No, his only option was to find someone on this shitty station to help him.

---

"I'm sorry, son, but I'm not in the gift giving business."

"It's not a gift, I'm asking for a loan," Taryn repeated. "I have a ship and cargo, which I can use as collateral. I just have a small cash flow problem, which I'll rectify when I get to the next station. Then I'll send you the loan repayment, with interest."

The bartender looked Taryn directly in the eye. Others may have found this topic uncomfortable, but a man who spent his living surrounded by drunks learned to be direct. "That may as well be a gift. Your cargo is useless, or you would have sold it by now. I could never collect the collateral for the loan if you can't repay; you'll be long gone. The best I could hope for is that you'll repay that loan with interest, but it'll be decades in local time before that payment shows up."

Taryn's voice was low. "Please, I'm begging you. This is my only option."

The bartender smiled a sad smile. "Look, I've seen you coming here for a few weeks now. I've seen you wasting your money. I can judge a man pretty well. You're not someone I can rely on. I'm sorry. I won't give you something for nothing." And at that, he paused. "However, I am willing to offer you something for something."

Taryn's ears perked up. "Oh, that's great! Why don't you come down to my ship and check the cargo..."

He trailed off as the bartender began to laugh. How did Taryn still not know the guy's name? "No, no, no, I don't need anything like that. I need someone to clean up the place. The bots do a decent job overall, but they need to be managed, and there are still some details they don't get perfect. I like to keep a classy establishment here."

Taryn was about to argue about how crappy the alcohol was, but then he paused. He looked around. The bar was meticulous. It was clean, it was beautifully decorated. How had he never noticed that before?

"You're not the first rich kid on his Journey we've had around here. You kids burn through money quickly. But you tend to have a good eye for making a bar feel comfortable. Take over the cleaning, then the arranging, and if you do a good job, you can even tend the bar."

"But that's your job!" said Taryn. "How will you make a living?"

The bartender laughed again. "Thank you for looking out for me. But I'll be fine. I own the place. And if you take over my daily operations, I can spend more time on my distillery."

That last comment took Taryn a good 10 seconds to process. "You... you make your own alcohol? You serve it here?"

"Of course! Why do you think the alcohol tastes so bad?"

Taryn must have stared longer than was polite, because the bartender felt obligated to continue. "I took over this place from the previous guy 5 years back. I've been trying to improve his distilling operation. First thing I did was put in an order for a year's supply of grain, fruit, and spices from Vectra. I've been studying distilling. I may not look it, but I'm passionate about good alcohol! I chose this station because I believe I can make the best lotan vodka ever distilled. But I can't do that when I'm spending all day pouring drinks."

It was a lot to take in. Taryn's initial response was to scoff at the idea of pouring drinks for a pittance of nakas. He was supposed to be on his Journey, making his fortune, creating his own destiny. How could he do that at an out of the way station?

He wanted to scoff and walk out of the bar, but he didn't have many options. "Can I think about it and get back to you?"

The bartender gave him a knowing look, nodded, and said, "Take all the time you need."

---

It was official: no one would give Taryn a ride anywhere for free. No one was traveling to Vectra. No one was engaging in charity or loans. And he hadn't checked, but he didn't think anyone else would offer him a job either.

Taryn sat in the captain's chair. It was one of the mottos held throughout the galaxy: Within a man's home, he is king. This ship had been home for three years now. And Taryn felt like the king of nothing.

He sat there, paralyzed, seeing his life crumbled around him. He sat there for hours, thinking of everything and nothing. He might have sat there until the port authority came by to evict him from his dock, but a familiar sound broke his trance. A simple ding. A notification. He had a message.

It was another message from his parents. He couldn't remember the last time he'd read one of their messages. He was about to dismiss the notification and go back to his brooding, but either he had a last-minute change of heart, his finger slipped, or the computer decided to do what it thought was best. The message popped up on the main display.

Dear Taryn. We hope this message finds you well. And yes, it's the same message we've been sending for the past year. If you've already read it: you know you can ignore it. If you haven't: this has been a part of the tradition of the Journey for generations.

You're probably struggling right now. It's OK; we all have. It's not easy taking your first steps out into the real world. You thought you were ready. No one ever is. You haven't contacted us at all for the past 28 years. That's OK too; it's part of the Journey.

We both struggled. We both failed at first. It's OK. Don't give up. You'll find your way, and you'll be a better man for it.

You probably need money right now. Even if we knew which network to send it to, we wouldn't help. You need to find a way to succeed on your own. If we take that from you, we will have robbed you of the most valuable thing we could ever give you.

We love you. We believe in you. You will succeed.

It would be wonderful to hear from you when you're ready. But take your time.

Taryn reread the message a few times. He opened his message history, scrolled back, and started from the beginning. The initial messages from his parents, for the first few years of Vectra-local time, discussed minutiae of life. But after five years, this new message popped up. And every message since then was an exact copy.

There were tears on his face. He was exhausted, but he was no longer demoralized. He got up. He turned on the shower, shaved, dressed in his most formal attire, and strode back into the station. He walked into the bar.

"Thank you for the job offer. I appreciate the opportunity."

The bartender started. That apparently hadn't been the tone he'd been expecting. "Does that mean you'll accept?"

"I only have three questions. First: how much will you pay me?"

The bartender smiled. "I'll pay you 1.3 AMEs. That'll cover your expenses, if you stop wasting money on getting drunk each night, plus let you start saving up some money."

Taryn barely remembered the AME rate on this station, but it didn't really matter. "Thank you, that would be wonderful. And my second question: can I get an advance on my first paycheck? My port dues are up tomorrow, and I'm completely broke."

At this, the bartender chuckled. "I'll do you one better. I'll throw in your dock fees as part of the pay. The station administrator is a regular customer, he'll give me a discount. What's your last question?"

"What's your name?"

A smile spread over the bartender's face. "Jaxon," he said.

Taryn stuck out his hand with the awkward formality of someone unused to such efforts and said earnestly, "Nice to meet you, Jaxon. I'm Taryn."

Bio-age 27 years

Dear Mom and Dad, I turned 27 today! I know you won't get this for another two years, but thought you'd want to know. And yes, I'm close to Vectra. I've been on Titan Station for the past few months.

I know I didn't write for a while. Too long. I'm sorry. I was ashamed of myself. I failed at my Journey. I used up all my money, made terrible decisions, and went broke. I'm little more than a janitor. I was afraid to admit it. But your message helped. I hope I can make you both proud one day.

The message felt clunky. There was so much to say, so much emotion, so much guilt. He didn't know how to get it into words. His finger hovered over the delete button. Before he could talk himself out of it again, he hit send. At least that's over with.

Taryn had a daily routine now. His shift covered the afternoon and evening, leaving his mornings free. It turned out that there were lots of quality educational resources available on the station. He gladly paid a few thousand nakas per course. The first thing he'd looked for was a course on space trading. He'd never really thought about why someone would be willing to give him money for his goods, much less why they'd pay him more than he bought it for in the first place.

He learned how to browse the net and glean information on wants in other stations. It turned out that the closest station over--a place called Echo Relay, only 3 light-months away--was constantly complaining about the low-quality alcohol. He'd brought it up to Jaxon. "Tell you what. You set up the deal, I'll give you a 10% commission."

He'd sent off a proposal to a grocer on Echo Relay. He'd put together what he thought was a good offer. And he'd sent a few bottles of the newly distilled Jaxon's Lotan Vodka on a drone. At first, the thought of giving something away for free chafed. But it seemed like that's how business was done. And it seemed like a better usage of 500,000 nakas than buying a few drinks for random strangers.

It would still take at least two more months before he'd hear back from Echo. He'd also been researching any stations that may be interested in his cargo. He'd identified a station that looked promising. There was a station four light-months away that was having a Festival. Travelers would be flying in from up to ten lightyears away, and they all wanted to take home a souvenir. He was finalizing negotiations with a caravan heading off there to sell his artwork for a commission. It was risky; there was a chance they'd simply take the money and fly off, avoiding the negative reputation points long enough for them to wash off the net, but the artwork wasn't doing him any good here.

He wasn't the brilliant space trader he'd thought he would be. He wasn't a maverick at gambling. And he definitely wasn't suave with the ladies. But as he walked into the bar for his daily shift, he looked around, saw a beautifully arranged establishment, and felt an emotion he thought might be pride.

Bio-age 29 years

Hi again. I guess you guys are receiving my first message about now, it's been just over two years since I sent it. Funny how time works like that. I guess you're both used to it from your own Journeys. I have some good news to share. The trade deal with Echo Relay is still paying off. Jaxon doubled his business with that virtually overnight. My 10% has added up to a nice buffer for a rainy day. And I took a chance and offered my remaining spice and clothing cargo at a discount. I just got word back, and they're buying everything. I'm finally inventory free!

I've been learning a bit more about the distilling process, but I realized it's not really something I'm that excited about. As much as I love working at the bar, I think it's time that I moved away from an alcohol-focused business. I took an apprenticeship with some of the miners. They've been teaching me some basic grunt work. Apparently, they still need basic mechanics on these ships. I'm getting my Class 1 certification. I spoke with Jaxon about it, and he was very encouraging. He says he doesn't want to lose me, but I think he's secretly happy that I'm making more of myself. Or at least happy to get rid of me.

I dropped a case of Lotan Vodka in a drone last week, you should receive it a few weeks after this message. It's a gift, but it's more than that too. I think we could make even better vodka from the local lotans from our village. I checked the last few I had, and they have an unusual combination of flavonoids, plus a higher fructose content than the regular stuff that gets shipped off. I already spoke with Jaxon about it, and he'd be willing to buy 40 kilograms at 15% above standard rates. Would you be interested in making that trade happen? I'll attach a contract for payment from our end, the nakas are already in a custody contract.

It felt weird to be using his parents for a trade deal like this, but it was in line with the ethos they'd taught him. He wasn't trying to take advantage of them, he was trying to make a mutually beneficial arrangement. Everyone wins. His parents take a commission, Jaxon gets to make better alcohol he can sell at a higher price, and the customers on both Echo Relay and Titan Station would enjoy it more. That's when Taryn realized what he'd missed in his message.

If you can arrange the deal with a local farmer, I propose we split a 5% commission on the deal, 2.5% for me, 2.5% for you.

It definitely felt strange haggling with his parents. But he knew they would approve.

Bio-age 34 years

Hi Mom and Dad. I'm sorry for the delay in this message. As you know, my crew got shipped out to the titanium mines, and communications have been a bit delayed. I only got the message from Jaxon now about the shipment. He says he's started the distilling process, but this batch looks like it will be even better than the last one! He says business has been on a huge uptick since he switched lotan providers. Apparently, a bunch of the locals on Titan are planning on taking a vacation to Vectra to check out the orchards.

As for my work over here. They've upgraded me to chief welder. The pay increase is nice, but it doesn't compare to the commissions I'm making. I'm enjoying the work. Some of these asteroids have been really stubborn. It's been a real challenge breaking up the rocks. But according to my research, this cluster of asteroids should have a higher titanium content than the patch we were looking at previously. I have a deal with the captain that if I'm right about this, he'll let me pick the next spot and give me a 2% cut of the gross.

I love you both.

Taryn wasn't sure why, but he'd downplayed his excitement in that message. He'd developed a brand-new method for estimating mineral deposits in an asteroid. This had the potential to increase the productivity of his crew's operations by at least 25%. That was exciting, and the potential 2% cut was nice.

But he was discovering something new about himself. It wasn't the money that mattered. And it wasn't even what the money could buy that mattered. He'd realized at some point in the past three years that he could easily go back home and live in luxury off his parents any time he wanted.

But he didn't want that. He wanted to succeed. He wanted to make the galaxy a better place. And every naka he earned through his own labor meant someone, somewhere, believed that he had made their lives better. That's what excited him.

The crew quarters were much tighter than his luxurious rooms back on his ship, but he didn't mind. He spent most of his time in a spacesuit, in the mess hall with the rest of the crew, or on the bridge. He'd never felt this kind of camaraderie before, and he was loving it.

"So, today's the big day," called out Captain Voss as Taryn stepped onto the bridge. "Care for a friendly wager about whether your new method works?"

"That's kind of you, but are you really that eager to lose a bet?"

The crew laughed. Everyone knew how nervous Taryn was about this. He was putting up some bravado now, and they were letting him hold onto it. But this was probably the biggest moment of his life. At least up until this point.

"Captain, the charges are set, and the demolition crew is clear of the area. Waiting for your orders to detonate."

"Proceed."

Ten seconds later, a nearby asteroid split in half. There was no sound, of course. There's no medium to carry sound waves in space. He knew that now, but had been the butt of jokes for about two weeks for covering his ears during his first detonation. No one was laughing now. As much as they teased him, they knew that if his new estimation method worked, they'd all essentially get a 25% pay bump. More than that though, they were rooting for him.

"Debris field stabilized, Captain. Can I authorize the survey team to enter the area?"

"Yes, go ahead."

A series of communications ensued, but Taryn couldn't spare any attention for that. His eyes were fixed on the viewer. His hands were clenched. He was sweating. The sounds around him faded to silence in his focus. All he wanted to know was did it work?

After five agonizing minutes, he heard the radio receiver kick in. "Tell Taryn I owe him a round when we get back to Titan. The mineral density is within 0.05% of his estimates. Best concentration we've found in over a decade."

The entire bridge burst into cheers. Everyone but Taryn. He stood there, speechless. The captain said something about a bonus. It was some large number of nakas, but he didn't even hear how many.

All he could think was, I did it. I made the galaxy a better place.

Bio-age 35 years

That round of drinks had to wait almost eight months, but it was well worth it. Taryn walked into Jaxon's bar with the rest of his crew. There was a new bartender on duty, someone he hadn't met before. But Taryn had messaged Jaxon in advance, and he was there personally to greet him.

"So, you did it, eh?"

Taryn's face muscles couldn't quite open his mouth widely enough for his grin. "Yeah, I did it."

"I knew you had something. I'm glad you finally crawled your way out of the bottle. Now before you and your friends all climb back inside, I have a surprise for you."

Taryn hadn't been expecting that. He looked over the bar. He saw some new imported whiskeys on the shelf, as well as the standard Lotan Vodka that most people came in for. The tables were arranged a bit differently, the artwork slightly updated. Was it the music system? It seemed a bit clearer than last time he'd come in; maybe Jaxon had finally patched up that faulty third speaker.

"OK, I give up. What is it?"

Jaxon pulled out his comm and hit a button. After a moment's wait, he spoke into its microphone, "Yeah, he just got here, come on in whenever you're ready. Uh-huh. Got it." After clicking off and putting the device away, he continued, "They'll be here in a few minutes. Why don't I get you gentlemen started off with a round. I'm sure one of your shipmates already promised to pick up your tab tonight, but let me get the first one."

"Thank you, Jaxon. Truly, thank you for everything. I wouldn't have made it without you."

Jaxon grinned, then called out to the bartender, "Give these gentlemen a drink! My treat!"

Taryn no longer drank like he used to. He'd engage in the occasional social affair, but he no longer needed to dull his senses. As a result, while the rest of his crew was finishing their second drinks, he'd barely gotten through half of his first when the surprise guests walked in.

"Hi Taryn." He knew that voice. He turned around, and there stood his parents. They must have experienced forty bio-years since he last saw them, but they looked barely aged. The wonders of modern medicine. "It's good to see you."

Taryn jumped up. "Mom, Dad, I... I... I didn't expect to see you!"

"Well, it's usually frowned upon to come home early from a Journey," his father said. "But no one ever said home can't come to you."

For him, 12 bio-years had passed. When he'd set off, he'd been arrogant, certain of his future success, and dismissive of his parents and their purported wisdom. Now it was a different story. He'd failed. And then he'd succeeded. He was a man standing on his own merits. He walked over to them and grabbed them both in a tight embrace. "It's so good to see you."

---

His crew had shooed him off pretty quickly after that. Taryn offered to treat his parents to dinner at the local restaurant. "Another time," Kaelin said. "Let's go back to our ship instead."

Sure enough, they'd brought the entire main house with them. After all, why not? Antimatter was cheap, one may as well travel in comfort. Not to mention bringing along Taryn's old bedroom. Like no time had passed at all, they all stood around in the kitchen together, taking turns chopping, peeling, stirring, seasoning. They never stopped talking.

They wanted to know everything about his new discovery. It was clear partway through his explanation that they had no idea what he was talking about. Both of them had focused more on trade during their Journeys. They hadn't gone deep into the science or engineering fields. Apparently, they'd been doing a bit of reading since they got his first message detailing his plans. However, due to the time dilation from travel, they'd only had about three months to try and catch up. Nonetheless, they listened eagerly to everything he had to say.

At some point the conversation shifted and they talked about home, and about friends he'd left behind. He could have checked up on his friends any time on their Notes; he was close enough now that most messages got relayed to his network. But he'd been too busy. And it meant more hearing it from his parents.

When they eventually sat down to eat, he turned to the question most pressing on his mind. "I need your advice on what I should do next."

"No, you don't son," Kaelin said firmly. "You've proven that over the past twelve years. You don't need us at all."

Taryn thought about that. "You're right. I don't need your advice. But I'd really like it."

They both smiled. "OK, with what?"

"I've developed this technology. It will increase mining productivity anywhere it's used. What should I do next?"

"You could just give the technology away," his mother began. "You'd lose out on a small potential fortune though."

"Yes, I thought of that. I also thought of patenting and licensing the tech, but lots of the outer systems don't abide by the patent treaty. It would basically amount to the same thing: giving away the technology."

Kaelon took on a bemused look. "So why not simply give it away? It will make the galaxy a better place, right?"

Taryn thought about it. There was logic to that. And he didn't need the money, his existing commission deals were supplying far more revenue than he knew what to do with, and his accounts had grown enough that he'd started keeping spare nakas in neighboring networks just to spread his risk of network failure around a bit.

But he knew why his father looked bemused. "No, I don't think so. No one will build these devices as well as I can. And I know with the right resources, I can improve the technology even more."

"Well then, let's figure out how to turn your idea into a business. But we want official advisor titles in the new company, plus 2% of the shares each."

"Done." And as the night went on, he realized that 4% of the company was a small price to pay for the insight they gave him.

Bio-age 49 years

"Sir," began the new secretary.

"Taryn," Taryn interrupted.

"Taryn? Oh, I see. Taryn, we just received reports back from the Polaris Array mining colony. It seems that the first prototypes you sent out were a success."

Taryn should have breathed a sigh of relief. He'd sent those prototypes off with some of his best men over six years ago. He'd considered going with, but his labs were far more interesting and would benefit more from his attention than a simple device installation.

"Wonderful. What was the estimated increase in mining efficiency?"

"Well, sir, I mean, Taryn. Well, Taryn, they primarily mine aluminum, which seems to show an even greater efficiency improvement than the titanium mines did. They completed ten separate missions with the device, and in aggregate they increased productivity on this venture by 42%."

Well that was certainly something. "Just imagine when we send out the gen 3 units. They still haven't even received the gen 2s! How much did we take in from this?"

"Your negotiator worked out pretty good terms. They agreed to give you 50% of the increased mining load, which works out to 21% of the old haul. It looks like a normal haul previously netted 6,000 megagrams, giving you 1,260 megagrams of raw aluminum. The team decided to sell on-site, they figured you could use the money more than the aluminum."

"So how much did we net?"

"Total expenditure for the trip, outside of research costs, came in at 15 billion nakas. At current rates, the haul came out to... ouch, only 2 billion nakas. I'm sorry sir."

"Taryn please. And nothing to apologize for. This is the first venture of many. Those devices will last years."

The secretary paused for a moment. "I'm sorry, but I don't quite understand something. What stops the miners from simply using your device without sending you your commission?"

"You mean besides the reputational damage from contract violation?"

The secretary blushed a bit. "Yes, Taryn, besides that."

"Easy." Taryn thought back to that conversation with his parents fourteen years ago. "We're going to keep improving the tech, and they know it. They'll happily keep paying for the tech, knowing they'll keep getting better toys in the future."

It all seemed so simple now. Why try to stop someone from cheating, when you could simply make it more lucrative to be honest?

Bio-age 62 years

Taryn's ship touched down on Novara. Amazing, after almost 40 years I finally made it here. He'd been tempted to settle down on Vectra, but it hadn't seemed right. No one could claim he'd failed at his Journey anymore, but going back home still felt like some strange admission of defeat.

But those were just vestiges of the immature thoughts he'd had at the start of his Journey. Now that he was ready to complete it and settle down, his motivations were much more simple. He'd found a beautiful plot of land on Novara. It was close to some major scientific institutes, which would be good fodder for his research labs.

Most of all, his wife, Elara, loved Novara. Turns out, even though it was an industrial hub, the planet itself was gorgeous.

He glanced over at his wife, still holding their new baby daughter. She was barely two months old. The labor had started a bit early, and they'd needed to initiate a time-dilation jump so they could make it to a well-stocked medical facility quickly enough. Thankfully, it all went smoothly, and both Elara and little Nyra were doing great. To top it all off, his team had finished the arrangements to bring the rest of the research facility planetside while he was gone. They'd likely be arriving in the next few days.

Taryn stepped out of his ship, his home. They'd had to buy some additions to accommodate the family they were anticipating, but that was money well spent. And money well earned. He could be happy with what he had.

Bio-age 73 years

"You know honey, I never even met my grandparents. Both of my parents Journeyed from thousands of lightyears away."

"Does that mean they did better at their Journey than you did?" Nyra, now eleven years old, asked.

Elara had been about to scold Nyra, but Taryn quickly defused the situation with a quiet chuckle. "You could say that I guess, but I don't think so. It's not about how far you travel. Or even how much money you make along the way. It's about the Journey itself."

As much as an eleven-year-old can ponder a deep idea, Nyra did so. All the way until they saw a spot in the sky. "Is that them?" she asked excitedly.

"Yes, I think it is," Taryn said with a grin.

"How long has it been since you've seen them?" asked Elara.

"Wow, I guess it's been almost 40 years! They've been traveling most of that time though, so they probably haven't aged much. Only 110 or so."

The ship touching down was, in fact, his parents. He let Nyra run up to them first. They'd sent plenty of videos back and forth, so she felt like she almost knew them already.

Taryn didn't know how long his parents planned on staying. For all he knew, they'd leave that night, or in a year, or never. They might go back to Vectra, or explore space, or even go back to their original home worlds for a visit. They still had so many years left.

And for that matter, so did he.

Bio-age 90 years

Taryn sat at a beautiful table, at the grandest banquet hall he could find. That hall happened to be in an orbiting station, so that's where they did the ceremony. It was a bit of an expense, but if you didn't spend money on a moment like this, when would you?

Everyone gathered knew who he was. If they didn't, his seat at the head table made it clear he was important. So, when he stood up, the entire room went quiet.

"I remember when I left on my journey. It feels like a thousand years ago now." Everyone looked a little perplexed at that. "Or, at least, a hundred or so." This time, they all laughed. He could see Nyra slightly rolling her eyes. That was OK.

"Journey isn't just about adventure. It's about growth. About knowledge. About meeting and learning from others. Not everyone is cut out for it." At this point, Taryn paused. He looked Nyra directly in the eye. His eyes teared up ever so slightly.

He reached down to the table, carefully picked up his glass, and held it aloft. "To my eldest daughter, Nyra. I'm so proud that you've decided to go on a Journey as well. We're going to miss you. Godspeed!" With that, all the assembled guests, all of Nyra's friends and family, virtually everyone who meant anything to her, raised their glasses in unison and toasted her successful Journey.

The End

This completes the first short story in the Galactic Silk Road universe.