Satellite: The Satellite Trilogy, Part I by Lee Davidson Read Free Book Online

asks.
    “Shane.”
    “Techie Shane?” Owen asks in disbelief.
    Rigby’s desolate expression answers the question.
    “Dude, tough luck!” Owen sympathizes.
    “Tell me about it.”
    “Well, try to cut them some slack. Even Shane,” Owen hesitantly adds. “It’s a tough job being a Legacy.”
    Rigby looks doubtful.
    “Seriously, it is. On top of training new recruits, Legacies are soon to be reunited with someone they probably don’t remember. Plus, their lives as Satellites are about to end, which is major suck city.”
    “Why would that suck?” Anna questions.
    “Because being a Satellite is hardcore! I hope I’m lucky enough to be a Lifer.”
    “A what?” Rigby asks, biting on a new toothpick.
    “A Satellite who never has to give this up. One of the lucky few who gets to be in it for eternity.”
    “I’m guessing there’s no significant other from your past?” I ask.
    “No way, man. I’m not a fan of being tied down. Yet,” he adds, his eyes glued back on Anna. “What about you? Any significant other?” he asks her, sounding hopeful.
    She shakes her head.
    “Really?” Owen almost yells.
    Anna smoothes her ponytail with her hand. “Really.”
    “Where’s Liam?” I ask Clara, trying not to vomit.
    “Not sure. I saw him in the lobby and he looked bad.”
    “Dude, he was a hot mess!” Owen adds. “Rough day in the field, probably. I’d guess he’s doing some serious coding right now.”
    “Do Satellites have a lot of rough days?”
    Owen misses Anna’s worried tone and shrugs dismissively. “Sometimes. A bad day for a Tragedy equals an exhausting day for us. Anyone wanna eat?”
    “I hear the chicken is phenomenal,” I say.
    Owen perks up excitedly. “ Fried chicken?”
    “That’s the rumor.” I wink at Anna.
    “Sweet! I’ve been craving that since Pete left.”
    “Why?” I ask.
    “Dude, when you go, so does your food.”
    I think of the vast food selection. Thousands of other Satellites must be here. All of whom are in Benson today, by the noise level.
    Despite a lack of appetite, my mouth waters when we reach the buffet. I grab two pieces of chicken, stew, and a handful of boiled peanuts. By the time we’re walking out the door, my overflowing tray includes an iced tea, manicotti, a biscuit, chocolate cake, and—at Owen’s suggestion—some kind of dessert that looks like mud. Did I mention I wasn’t hungry?
    We sit at one of the smaller tables. Owen only looks away from Anna when he needs to pick up a new piece of food. He inhales the chicken like a savage until finally he’s licking the bones and then his fingers. Though the chicken is fantastic, as is everything else (besides the peanuts, that is—those are seriously gross), Owen states this to Anna twenty-three times. I know. I count.
    The comfortable conversation puts me at ease. Making friends was never my strong suit, and that’s an overstatement. Aside from playing football, which my father strictly limited to practice and games only, I didn’t interact much with the kids at school. Even during the season, I kept to myself. Some of the players tried to befriend me—whether out of sincerity or because I was one of the better players, I don’t know—and I was never a jerk when declining their invites to hang out, but I just didn’t see the point. While they were out partying every weekend, my free time was consumed by working for Bradley Construction. Until I met Tate, that is. Much to my dad’s dismay, becoming a carpenter got pushed down a notch on my list of priorities. “You’re wasting your talent,” he’d said. He would have changed his mind if he’d taken the time to really get to know Tate.
    Clara, Owen, and Anna are talking about things they remember from their life—favorite movies and food, what their parents looked like. Rigby and I stay silent, but for very different reasons.
    “Why isn’t everyone’s clothing dated?” I ask when Clara is finished talking about some eighties’