The last shuttle left Port Authority on a cloudy morning, rising through rain squalls before bursting out into Capella’s bright light and ascending from the puffy white mounds of cumulus. Within minutes it shot through the stratosphere and into the darkening threshold of vacuum.
In the copilot’s seat, Miguel Galluzzi watched the familiar patterns of stars form in all of their swirling majesty, the nebulae, galaxies, and dark matter stretching across his view. Capella was a glaring orb to the left as the shuttle changed attitude.
Where was . . .? Ah, yes. There. Freelander hung just over Donovan’s horizon. A small ball against the background of stars. Even from this distance, it didn’t look right. Having seen orbiting ships his entire career, Galluzzi couldn’t put his finger on the difference. As if the thing was eating light.
He wondered if, in the infinite eventuality of time, the leak would drain his universe away, siphon it slowly into whatever hellish existence Freelander had passed through. If it did, what would happen to the essence of his beloved Tyne Sakihara? It turned out that he had to believe that he was more than molecules and electrochemical stimuli. Indeed, he’d decided what he’d cling to.
In silent tribute, Galluzzi raised a hand and snapped off a salute just before the vessel passed out of sight.
After Freelander he would never again see the universe through jaded eyes. Was that redemption? Or revelation?
“Thank you, Shig,” he whispered under his breath.
Memory of the little brown man with the round face and unruly hair would remain chiseled in Miguel Galluzzi’s heart and soul until he took his last breath. How, in all of creation, could luck have placed him into such knowing, caring, and competent hands?
The shuttle rolled under Ensign Naftali’s skilled command. Ashanti appeared in view. Dead ahead. Vixen’s shuttle was just departing, returning back to the survey ship. It would have just deposited those crew members who’d opted to ride Ashanti home.
Their return created an interesting dilemma for The Corporation. The Vixen crew were owed an absolute fortune: sixty to seventy years’ wages, including mission bonus, including overtime for service beyond stated period of contract, and compounded interest. And they were still in the prime of their careers.
Leave that to the Board to figure out.
Galluzzi grinned.
Naftali turned down Ashanti’s routine request to assume control of the shuttle prior to docking.
To Galluzzi’s supreme satisfaction, the ensign settled them into the bay without so much as a quiver. The familiar vibrations told him the shuttle was locked down.
“Hard dock, hard seal,” Naftali told him, turning in the command seat. “Welcome home, sir.”
Galluzzi gave the ensign a wink, stood, and made his way to the hatch. There, Dan Wirth waited, his quetzal vest buttoned, the priceless rhodium and gold chains gleaming in the light. The man was smiling, boyish, which accented the dimple in his chin. A curious reservation lay behind his brown eyes.
“I’ll see that you are assigned to Dek’s old quarters,” Galluzzi told him. “Best in the ship, as befitted a Taglioni.”
“What about when we get to Neptune?”
“You are to be delivered directly to Taglioni agents. No customs.”
Wirth’s smile beamed in triumph. “Should be quite a ride.”
Galluzzi paused as the hatch was undogged. “I do hope that you know what you’re doing. You have quite the unsavory reputation as a gambler, cutthroat, and con man. But you do understand what you’re getting into, don’t you?”
“Biggest game of my life, Cap.” Wirth gave him a wink. “And, yeah, I promise. I won’t so much as lift a card with any of the crew on the way back.”
The hatch swung open. Turner, Smart, and AO Tuulikki stood waiting in dress uniform. They saluted in unison, and Turner said, “Welcome aboard, sir.”
“Good to be back.” Galluzzi studied Turner’s watery eyes. “I’m not here to bump you out of the captain’s chair, Ed. I’m happy to let you take her back to Solar System.”
Turner and others were watching him warily.
“You all right, sir?” Paul Smart asked.
“Oddly, Paul, never better.”
“Thought, given the way you left, that we’d be lucky to ever see you again,” Tuulikki told him. “What happened down there?”
Galluzzi clasped his hands behind him, rocking up on his toes. “The Unreconciled were right about one thing: The universe continually teaches us. Sometimes you have to lose yourself to find yourself.”
Turner winced. “Not sure I understand.”
“No, Captain Turner,” Galluzzi told him, “I don’t suppose you do. And that’s the crying shame of it. Now, why don’t you good people show Mr. Wirth here to his cabin and take us home?”
With that he strode past them, headed for the lift that would take him to Crew Deck.