"Hello, mother..." Rett started softly. The still avatar of his mother on the floating display stayed as silent as ever. He fussed over his uniform as he organized what to say.

Two hundred and twenty-three calls and he still couldn't converse with her.

"I hear you have been more active lately," Rett began to pace as the familiarity of his routine welled forth. He always began with a hazy greeting and then say something positive. The demilitarized community for veterans had been very pleased with her progress and rehabilitation.

"Congrats on winning the end of the monthly card game," he said as a grin formed. His mom always loved card games. A 'hobby for the low paced, and high-stress life of pilots' she had often said with a fanatical grin.

Rett's faint cheer wavered as he stopped. He was anxious. His mother was resolutely silent. She was like the empty void on the other side of the glass before him. From the observation deck, he stared out into the darkness where the only visible star faintly twinkled. Abraxiusous, the red giant. An artificial star, unlike their own natural one.

"I..." his voice had dropped to a whisper, "I received my orders,". The neural interface would easily pass along his words and expressions. He was confident in his decision but helpless on how it related to her.

"I am assigned to the 183rd Fleet of the 42nd Radial Armada," Rett rattled off as he stood a touch straighter. He was a touch prouder as he turned his gaze from the distant star to the large transport ship docked outside Luna Station. "The return rate of the fleet was recently doubled. 3.14159% chance of the fleet returning within my lifetime."

Rett sighed as he stared into the still portrait of his mom. She was wearing her pilot armor with her navigator, aunt Matia Sul Selka of the eastern oceans. Their smiles were something he had hoped to achieve with his own partner he had bonded with during his decade at the Academy of Flight.

"My pilot scores have gone up a rank. I am to receive the 188 generations humanoid frame," he whispered with a smile as he recalled his youth. The surprise test flights where his mom had instilled the love of space flight into her brat. The rush of acceleration and the freedom of movement! Even right now, he could recall the sensations of their first flight together. Mom whooping and auntie laughing as they showed him what it means to pilot an HF. What it means to have wings.

Rett stopped talking as reached out to the portrait. His fingers brushed the floating image of the two girls standing at the feet of an HF-181.

Those 40 years of fun he had as a child until he reached the age of majority. The age to enlist into the Union Military Services. The honor and duty to protect all who lived within the Union's sphere of influence. He already understood the seriousness of the task at hand. 3.14159% chance to return. What he didn't say was that realistic survival projections weren't even a tenth of that optimistic percentile.

With a small jolt, Rett stared at the conversation time and sighed. Over sixty minutes had passed and his mother had remained completely silent. The call indicated that she was not muted and still he could not reach her. He had paced to and fro enough to walk around the large observation deck one and half times.

"Thanks, mother... I..." he breathed out as he couldn't. He just.

Rett took a deep breath as he struggled to embrace this for what it was. He knew the most likely outcome and had called anyways. His mother had never recovered during that defense run on the outer ring of the solar system. Auntie Matia had given up her own air to ensure her partner would return. She physically did. It took time for him to accept it. Accept the fact that a part of her had left with auntie.

In truth, on the cusp of adulthood at 49, it hurt him deeply to realize that auntie... that aunt Matia meant more to her then he did. She had survived, returned to him and she simply withered as she sat there. Day in, day out. Nothing seemed to stimulate her and while he grew up.

He wanted to see it. See what this bond was so that he could understand more. So he accepted the mission for the 42nd Radial Armada and now he was going. His navigator Farrah was many things, but perfect wasn't one of them. His time together with her had shown him a glimpse. Perhaps one day, he would understand his mother.

He was currently on the opposite side of the deck and the view was taken up by a single planet. His eyes stared up at Avalon, Throne World of the Union, and he tried to see through the first 3 layers of the planet. There, on the sixth layer was where his mother was currently connecting. He reached out his hand to touch the cool glass and found his hand was too small to cover over the world above. His notifications received the final call and it was now time to go.

His conversation time had shown him that out of 68 minutes of call time, he had only spoken for three. 'A new record' he thought with a half-hearted sneer as he stared back at his faint reflection. He wanted to say it. He was also afraid. Would it sound hollow?

He closed his eyes and forced out his words. "I'm going to go now, mom. I love you."

Rett Starraven straightened up and gave his mother's avatar a sharp salute. The click of his heels echoed faintly as he ended the call.

He stood still. The world turned slowly but it was noticeable. The bonus compensation of his mission would ensure that she wouldn't have to worry about anything. Unless she dramatically changed her lifestyle, it was enough to ensure that she would be looked after. After all, it was doubtful he would come back to claim any of it.

"Let's go." Rett finally said as he turned around and moved towards the transport.

Farrah nodded from where she was seated and smoothly got up. She matched her pace with his and easily moved alongside him as she knew that what he needed now was not words, but steadfast empathy. Pilots may move, but navigators always supported. He was a little lost now, but she knew that she could support him. Guide him. They would go together.