"I have a son." Governor Simms whispered in the dark of his office, all lights off save one that sat atop his expansive steel desk reflecting a soft yellow glow from spots where the desktop was not covered. "There are so many horrible things that he blames me for. All things that I have spent the past years avoiding accountability for." Leaning further back in his chair, the tall and slender gentleman that Andrew Simms was allowed his normal perfect posture to slip. His eyes locked upon that of his old friend John Hayes who sat at the opposite side of the desk. "I was always so over-confident, wasn't I John? I never believed anything that went wrong in my life was my fault. I always dispersed blame elsewhere. How have you stood me in your life for so long?"
John Hayes reached forward across the desk, tapping his fingers loudly upon the steel, causing Simms to raise his brows. "You're in an ugly abyss, Drew. I've known you too long to let you drown there."
The governor huffed. It was so like John to push misery aside with a snap or a tap. That was part of the good friend's character that was appealing.
"Your wife died, Drew. Your ex-wife." Seeming confident that he had grasped the governor's attention, John pulled his hand back. "It's a terrible thing. It tore me up as well. I really liked her. But it's not your fault, and it's been months. You need to move on."
Simms sat forward, his posture returning to its standard state. "My son hates me, John. How could he have taken a job with that miserable deceptive windbag?"
John Hayes released an abrupt chuckle. "It's no secret that you and Governor Logan are not fond of each other, but what he offered Mark was a good opportunity." John grasped the glass of whiskey that sat before him, lifting it to his lips for a sip. "Ahh," he exclaimed with a sense of pleasure twinkling from his eyes. "You always have the best stuff. Must be a government thing."
Governor Simms shook his head. Though he knew his best friend of many years would always be there for him in whatever capacity he needed, it was clear that John had no patience at the time for wallowing in discontent. Glancing across at the face that Simms had watched age since their time together in the University, at the cracks that now formed with the smile brought on from a good drink, Simms also found a smile forming. His life had gone awry in many ways, career-wise good though the job was likely, he thought, to be the reason for his other areas to have slipped into the bad. The one constant, however, was that through the good and the bad, John Hayes was always at his side along with their distant good friend Anton Tremain. They were a powerfully bonded threesome who each went their own ways, yet never allowed the steadfast bond of friendship to separate. "It is what it is, as they say." He was ready to move on and would deal with the tribulations of his estranged relationship with his son another time.
John smirked after another sip of the whiskey before returning the glass to the desktop. "He'll come around, he's a good kid." With a nod, a sturdy friendship seemed to make things right for the moment.
The governor grabbed his own glass for a quick sip before a change in subject. He swallowed quick, allowing the potency of the beverage to sting for just a moment. 'It is good stuff,' he thought. "Onto other matters. The shuttles, John. You inheriting your father's company is a stroke of luck for the plan."
"And you seated as governor," John interrupted. "It's as if it were all meant to be."
"Yes, but we're living in dangerous times. Hiding your work is troublesome."
"The transportation commission." John leaned in closer to the desk, as if the need for quieter conversation had just erupted, though the governor was confident in the security of his office. "They've been sniffing around. Did the guidance system plans cover the tracks. We really are implementing that as well, it's a brilliant design and good timing."
"Seems to have," Simms offered a breathy reply. "They're a curious group."
"Intrusive if you ask me. What's the guy's name, Ryan? He has a repulsive thirst for a reason to meddle."
The Governor released a huff of a laugh, incontrollable and felt in his belly. "He makes my skin crawl. Unfortunately, he's good at what he does. And they're a necessary group since the eighty-two train bombing." For a man in his position, bad memories crop up in good conversation at any point. The governor had a quick image of the destruction from one terrorist band that brought about the deaths of nearly three-hundred innocents in his own territory. "I try so hard to keep the peace here."
John's demeanor also dipped for a moment, but only a moment. "You need a new pilot for your travels, Drew."
The governor was jerked back from reminiscence with the unexpected change in topic.
"I'm moving Dora into shuttle ops. She's vested in our plans and I need her there."
Governor Simms nodded. Though Isadora, the gentleman that he was always referred to her by her full given name, was his favorite pilot and he enjoyed their travels together, he understood. "I hope you're giving her a raise for that."
John smiled. "I have someone else in mind for you, but I'd like you to talk to him. He's an orphan, not as lucky as I was, but pulled himself together out of the orphanage."
"Does he know about the work?"
"Not yet, but his good friend back in San Diego does know. They grew up together, brothers in every sense of the word except blood. I think he's the right man to pilot one of our two ships, Drew. I think all he needs is the honor of being asked by the governor to reel him in."
Simms nodded again, though a serious grimace had overtaken his face. "Alright," he responded. "What's his name?"
"He moved here to Boston recently to take a shuttle pilot job." John said, reaching down to his briefcase that he had placed on the floor leaning against his chair. With a quick shuffle of papers through the open top, he grasped the sheet he was looking for. Placing the paper on the desk in front of the governor, he tapped the small photo from atop the pilot registration form. "Alec Grissom."