Brian sat in the room and looked around. The smooth walls were painted dull light gray and the floor was polished to a shine. The only furniture in the room was a gray table and matching chair. This was a typical military installation. The door in which he had just entered was closed and a diffused pane of glass in the door reminded him of the busy hallway outside. On the table sat a data-pad with a file name flashing on the screen. ‘Flight Leader Robert T. Matthews. Final Flight Recording.’

“Well let’s see what you have to say,” Brain said out loud. He reached over the desk and tapped the display where the file name was located. An audio recording started playing. Brian wished he had video but age and cosmic radiation degraded the video to the point of being useless. Audio was easier to rebuild.

The recording began with the speaker talking in a raspy voice, “I am Flight Leader Robert T. Matthews. My Marut is disabled and powerless, my carrier destroyed, and …(static)… have left the area. I do not know if I will be recovered, so I make this last recording in an effort to convey my thoughts before my air supply depletes, the radiation from the pulsar nearby kills me, or I freeze to death. Consider this my last will and testament. Eulogy is probably more appropriate. Let’s see… where do I begin. …(deep breath)… First and foremost, it has been an honor to serve with the 113th Silent but Deadly Q-Force. The pilots in the Speeder Squadron are the finest men in the universe and I only hope my sacrifice has allows the tradition of honor and duty to continue among their ranks. …(deep breath)…

“To my wife: …I will always be with you. Our short life together has been the happiest of my life. We had hopes and dreams together, the seeds of which we had just planted. Don’t let our dreams die from sorrow. The Kashmere Military will provide for you and our son. …(deep breath)… Don’t despair. You are young and energetic. You will survive without me. Just remember that I love you and await your presence in the next life. Please raise …(static)… to be one of honor and respect. He is my legacy.

“To my son: …Grow strong. Let the accomplishments of our family be your guide. I know at this time you are too young to understand these words, I pray you find them useful went the time of choosing your path comes to you. …(deep breath)… If you should choose the path I did, never give up. Never loose you edge. Keep practicing your maneuvers. Be the best, and then get better. Fly fast, …(deep breath and much more labored)…play hard, and live for the present. You never know when you will punch out. Take care of your mom when you are capable.

“My time is running short …(Labored breathing)…almost out of life support and my cryo-unit is has malfunctioned. It was an honor …(labored breathing)… to call each of you family, companion, comrade …(static)…, or …(panting)… friend. …Computer, end recording.

Brian couldn’t help but be moved by the recording. A single tear fell from his left eye and landed on his cadet award ribbons pinned to his chest. He took the data-pad in both hands and stood to exit the room. A second tear left his left eye and streamed down to his square jaw.

He left the building and walked. He arrived at his dormitory and stood before his door. The data-pad was still clasped in his hands and he barely remembered the walk from the administrator building two blocks away. The tears had dried up.

Brian reached into his pocket and grabbed his I.D. card and flashed it at the lock mechanism. It beeped and the door slid open.

Inside, three of his roommates were getting into their civilian clothes.

“Hey, its Brian! We were wondering where you went to,” said one.

“Get into your civies, Bee. We’re heading to the strip,” said another.

“Not today,” Brian said as he placed the data pad on his bunk. He then placed his hands on his desk and looked at all his awards on the wall. “I’m going to the simulators today.”

“The sims? You already got the highest scores of the squadron. You are assured a spot in an elite unit. What more do you want?” said the first roommate.

“I just don’t feel like partying right now,” Brian replied.

“Alright cadet, you stay, and I will drink your share of alcohol,” said the third and followed it with a laugh.

The roommates quickly gather their stuff and exited the room. Brian could still hear them down the hall. He wanted to go with them, but something drove him to the rush of flying the simulators. He lived to fly. He loved to fly. He would be the best.

Brian changed clothes into his flight suit and looked at himself in the mirror. The refection was of a sharp young man, best in his class. Fly fast, play hard, and live for the present. The comment went round in his head and he reviewed his achievements on his wall. There were highest sim score awards, meritorious service awards, and top flier awards all with the same name: Flight cadet Brian S. Matthews.

In the middle of his desk stood a single small picture of a pilot who was lost in space ten years before. They just recently found and recovered the fragments of the fighter once flown by his father. Now he knew what happened and why his father failed to return.

Fly fast, play hard, and live for the present.

Brian looked down at the picture. “I will father, I will.”