In Ashes Born (A Seeker's Tale From The Golden Age Of The Solar Clipper Book 1) by Nathan Lowell

to prune back about a third of the stems and watch for those that had gotten too large.
    I had to walk right up to the beds to find the answer. I crouched down and ran my hand across the stumps sawed off flush with the ground. A bit of nearly dry sap stuck to my fingers. The entire stand had been taken back to root. I stood and surveyed the width of the building. Here and there I spotted the beginnings of new growth. A sprig of green here. A tiny stem with a few leaves there.
    I wiped the sap off my fingers on the side of my pants and headed back to my cottage. Clearly, I had a lot more pruning to do and a decision to make about Pip’s offer.

Chapter Seven
Port Newmar:
2374, May 30
    The therapist that Alys Giggone recommended turned out to be a thirty-something beanpole with a flattop haircut, slightly bulgy eyes, and an infectious grin.
    “Malloy Gains,” he said when I made it to his office for my first appointment. “Mal to my patients.”
    I shook his offered hand and grinned back at him. I couldn’t help it. “You know that means ‘bad,’ right?”
    If possible, the grin got even wider. “Why do you think they call me that?” He pointed to a comfy-looking chair. “Have a seat. Tell me why you’re here.”
    I settled into the chair and felt it hug me. It was a bit disconcerting. “I’m not sure why I’m here. It’s just—given the last few months—it seemed like a good idea.”
    He pulled another chair over and sat down where he could look at me. For several heartbeats that was all he did. “So, death, dismemberments, serious illnesses. Money?”
    “Yeah, pretty much. Not so much dismemberments.”
    His bulgy eyes blinked slowly and I had the sense that he had to refocus on me. “For most of my patients, that’s a joke.” He paused. “No so much the money.” He settled himself into his chair and clasped his hands around one knee. “Tell me a story.”
    “What kind of story? You want to know how my mother died?”
    He blinked that slow blink again. “Do you want to tell me that story?”
    I shrugged. “I can. It was a long time ago, but I thought therapists wanted to know about your mother.”
    His grin came back. “Not all of us. How did she die?”
    “Flitter crash back on Neris. Two decades ago.”
    “Senseless, no warning. Left you on your own?”
    “Yeah. Company planet. They were going to deport me unless I got a job. Just a few weeks after I turned eighteen.”
    “What did you do?”
    “That’s when I met Alys Giggone.”
    “So, now I know how you got to the academy and made captain at such a young age.” He pursed his lips and looked up at the ceiling. “What do you want to get from these sessions, Ishmael?”
    “I don’t know. For a long time I’ve been focused on moving up the career ladder, making enough credits to be comfortable, and now I have.” I shook my head. “Over the last couple of stanyers, I made captain, bought a ship, started my own company, and then sold it. Money isn’t a problem. I’m probably considered wealthy at this point.”
    “More than a million?” he asked.
    “More than a hundred million.” I shrugged.
    “Yeah. You’re wealthy. If that’s a problem, I’ll take it from you.” He winked at me. “And I think my hourly rate just went up.”
    “It’s certainly life changing levels, but it’s barely enough for a down payment on another ship.” I thought of the Chernyakova .
    “What was that?” he asked, sitting up and waving a finger in my direction. “What were you thinking about then?”
    “A ship. A salvage claim I have on a ship over in Breakall. I commanded the salvage team that recovered it.”
    His grin remained but his brow furrowed. “Tell me about that.”
    “Crew gassed themselves on a rag fire. We found the ship on a ballistic course on its way out of Breakall. I took a skeleton crew over and stabilized the ship, and waited for the TIC forensics team to examine the remains.”
    “You said that pretty smoothly.