Grandfather's Quest

TAU

Chapter Fifteen

Earth Date: May 25, 2432

On the twelfth day of our journey, I woke up on the floor of my cabin.

Raising to my hands, I looked quickly over the room. What had happened? It was dark, but I'd turned out the lights before going to bed the night before. Something was different, though.

Shaking the cobwebs from my brain, I stood and reached for the comm panel. That's when I figured it out. The comm lights were out. Even worse, the deck was not vibrating. The engines had stopped. Worried, I hailed the bridge.

Nothing. I tried again. Nothing again. Something was very wrong. Leaving the cabin light off, I quickly dressed and made for the door, grabbing my energy pistol as I did. Captain G'Jaukla had given it to me only four days ago. "Just in case," was all he said. It looked like just in case had arrived.

As I reached the doors, there came a loud boom and the ship jarred horribly to port. I kept my balance easily enough, but the silence of the engines was now replaced by the three tone siren that indicated a hull breach. I needed to get out of this cabin and help.

The damned doors were jammed! They opened about ten centimeters, then stopped. Not having time to repair them, I holstered my pistol and wrapped my fingers around the edge of one door. Using every ounce of strength I had, I yanked.

There came a creak, then a hollow snap and the door bent back off its track. Not much, maybe twenty centimeters. But enough. Drawing my pistol again, I squeezed through the opening.

The passageway was dark, save for flickering emergency lights. I looked aft, toward Paul's and Hank's quarters, then forward, toward the bridge. It took only a second to decide the direction. They were all grown up. I made for the bridge, covering my ears from the shrill alarms. The ship boomed and lurched again, this time to the starboard. I knew the difference between getting hit by an object and being fired upon. We were under attack. Someone was giving the Second Star the pounding of her life.

The bridge was a mass of people, shouting back and forth as they desperately tried to save the Second Star. Through the thickening acrid smoke of burned plastic parts, I glanced at the view screen and saw a sleek, unmarked ship coming at us from the starboard. As I watched, it fired a pulse cannon.

"Brace!" Captain G'Jaukla shouted.

The blast hit us hard. The Second Star would have shields, but only repulsor style, to avoid contact with objects. They could take a little sting out of plasma cannons, but not much.

"Starboard engine is venting into engineering, Captain!" came the loud but controlled voice of the engineer. "We've got a bubble forming."

"How bad?" he barked.

"The entire grid, sir."

"Can you fix it, Grant?" Although the noise forced him to keep his voice loud, Captain G'Jaukla otherwise sounded like he was enjoying himself.

"Not in these conditions, sir." Another hit, knocking everyone but the Captain and myself to the deck. "At best, I can slow the process. But it will burst."

"How long?"

"Ten minutes. No more."

"And if you went back there?" he asked, knowing to send the engineer back to a venting fusion engine was to send him to his death.

"That is if I go back, sir." Grant seemed no more bothered by it than if they were debating taking a walk.

Captain G'Jaukla froze for a moment, then nodded.

"Chief, I would be most grateful if you would see to it."

Grant saluted.

"Aye, sir!"

He made for the door, a small smile on his face. He winked at me as he passed.

"We'll get you home safe, Princess." And then he was gone.

"Indeed," Captain G'Jaukla said. "I want you and your companions to take Lifeboat One, immediately. "

"Captain," I said firmly. "I will not leave you to their mercy. Surely there is something..."

"No," he said. "There is nothing. You asked me if I and my crew were willing to live for you. We are. But as I said, we are also willing to die for you. I only regret I was unable to serve you longer, Princess. Now go!" He hustled me to the door. "I'll release the lifeboat at the proper moment. I'll also release the others with yours to create confusion. Just be in it within five minutes!"

I nodded. I gave no more protest to the Second Star's sacrifice. To do so would dishonor them. Despite the urgency of the moment, I stood straight and flowed into a bow.

"This one is forever your servant. This one will speak forever of your children to her children and her children's children countless."

Rising, I leaned against him and kissed him on the cheek.

"I'll never forget you, Captain G'Jaukla," I said in a low, sorrow-torn voice. "Nor your crew. Nor the Second Star. Thank you, Captain G'Jaukla for safe passage."

He smiled and kissed the back of my hand.

"It was indeed a pleasure, Princess. May we meet again on the other side and drink to each other's past and future lives." He flashed another of his endless smiles. "Now go!"

I left him and his crew behind and ran for Paul's quarters. Paul was on his way down the passage. He spotted me and came.

"What's going on?" he asked. Like me, he had his ship issued pistol strapped on. Warrior instinct.

"We're under attack and the ship is going to explode within ten minutes. We have less than five minutes to get to Lifeboat One!" I grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him by me. "You secure the lifeboat while I get Hank!"

He nodded and ran by me, lurching hard against the port wall as we were hit again. I made sure he was fine, then raced toward Hank's quarters.

Passing by Paul's quarters, I noticed he, too, had to force the doors. I only hoped Hank's could be forced as well. Stumbling from another hit, I pressed on. Two cabins down.

Fortunately, Hank's doors were wide open, so it was easy to see in and see he was gone. His gear was strewn all over the deck of his cabin. As I said, the Second Star was taking the beating of her life. And her crew's lives.

There came a sudden hissing and I snapped my gaze up to the top of Hank's cabin. A rip, one centimeter wide and twenty long, had opened to the space between the hulls. We were venting atmosphere.

Sorely tempted to look more, I went three steps further down the passageway, then jammed to a halt. I'd forgotten! Turning on my heel, I ran as fast as I could to my cabin. I absolutely had to have one specific piece of gear, or there'd be no chance the mission would succeed.

The door was as I'd left it, but I wasn't going to squeeze through. Besides, the case wouldn't fit. Instead, I pressed against the far passage wall, then launched myself at the door.

My shoulder hit it dead on and full force. The door didn't give with a creak this time. It snapped clean off. I fell to the floor, but was up in a split second. Grabbing my one piece of essential gear, I bolted through the door and made for Lifeboat One. I hoped Hank would be there.

The lifeboat was already starting launch protocols when I got there. Knowing the hatch was moments from closing, I dashed inside and down the four steps to the deck. I dropped my case and turned back.

Leaning over, I reached out and gently touched the deck of the Second Star. I closed my eyes and felt the tears well up. So many more after them would go to death to see the end of the Unbreathable. And each one who paid this ultimate price would be taken away in a fleet of those gone before, proudly led by the freighter and crew who'd shown the way to noble sacrifice and final honor.

The hatch hissed closed and I withdrew my hand. The lifeboat dropped slightly, then fired emergency thrusters. I watched through the rear hatch portal as a black tunnel sped by me. The lifeboat banged against the external plating, then came free of the Second Star. The lifeboat rotated over on its axis, showing us the freighter from the forward portals. In a dream, I turned forward and sat down in the copilot's seat.

The Second Star was dying a horrible death. It seemed impossible to believe that one ship could absorb so much damage and still remain a ship. Equally impossible to believe was that a single ship could cause such damage.
As if to demonstrate it was indeed possible, the attacking ship flashed down on the helpless freighter. As we watched, three, six, nine blooms of light came from the bows of the craft. Two passed by the Second Star, but the rest went true. Certainly, mercifully, the freighter would die now.

But it did not. Captain G'Jaukla still had command. His ship began veering about, the engines finally back online. Emergency flares began pouring from every side of the Second Star sending out a blinding light.

"He's making himself a bigger target," Paul said quietly. "The flares increase the scannable surface of a ship, making it easier to pick up on long range sensors. It also masks our lifeboat from sensors."

There was nothing to say to that, so we fell quiet and watched in growing horror. And yes, in growing pride.

Captain G'Jaukla had now built up sufficient speed to begin maneuvering. Burning plasma poured from a dozen locations on the Second Star. Explosions were twice as many. But even in these desperate straits, Captain G'Jaukla was not fleeing. He was attacking. The Second Star was seeing through its mission of providing me with safe passage to Earth.

The other ship charged, closing at incredible speed. The only attack open to Captain G'Jaukla was to ram the ship. But how could he hope to do such a thing against a smaller, more maneuverable craft?

The vessel came on, either oblivious to or in scorn of the freighter's sacrifice. The forward guns fired again and again, pounding the Second Star. Suddenly, the small vessel veered off, as if suddenly aware of its own predicament. I was right; Captain G'Jaukla couldn't ram the attack ship. But he also had another weapon, one from which there would be no escape for either ship.

The attack ship was still closing on the freighter, pulling off its attack, when the Second Star exploded. Captain G'Jaukla had destroyed himself in the hopes of taking his attacker with him and saving my life.

An eerily beautiful bloom filled the area where the Second Star had been two heartbeats previously. Like a rose of death reaching the peak of life, it grew outward, forming swirls of plasma. There came a small flash within the bloom, and then a shooting star appeared, traveling quickly away. It was the attack ship. Burning and tumbling, its path led away from the rose. It continued on for several seconds then it, too, disintegrated in a silent burst.

I looked back at the Second Star, but it was gone from our world and passed into history. Into history and legend.

It was only then that I noticed Hank was not with us.

*    *    *

"That's it," Paul said, shutting down the lifeboat's small ion drive. "I've gotten as much velocity as I can from the engines while still leaving enough fuel for braking and maneuvering."

"How long?" I asked. I'd grieved over the loss of one of my dearest friends for several hours now, and I needed to look forward again.

"Until we make Pluto?"

I nodded.

"We're still outside the Plutonion sphere. The lifeboat's puttering along at 10,000 Kilometers per second and it's eighteen billion kilometers to Customs on Pluto. That works out to about three weeks. That's if we don't get picked up first." He didn't sound to happy about shortening our trip and neither did I. The first thing we did was disable the emergency beacon on the lifeboat. Wherever that attack vessel had come from, it had clearly been sent. Broadcasting on the rescue band would be like shouting, "Here I am, come and get me!"

"How about supplies?" he asked.

"I've done inventory. The lifeboat was built for six, and Captain G'Jaukla kept to ITA regulations, so we're fully stocked in food, water, air. There's even some things in here for entertainment."

"Like what?"

"Cards, chocolate, liquor. Even a few holos."

"Which ones?"

"Uh.." I looked over the titles. "Something called Winds Along The Milky Way..."

"Bleah," Paul interrupted. "Chick flick."

"Flick?" I asked. Drifting in a lifeboat after having escaping the destruction of our ship seemed a peculiar time and place to quietly discuss movies, but we both appreciated the diversion.

"Uh-huh. Old word. Goes back to when holos were recorded on celluloid tape, comprised of a series of still photographs. When the pictures were played in rapid sequence, they created the illusion of movement. And since the images were projected onto a bright, flat surface, the image seemed to flicker as the space between frames passed in front of the light source."

"Wow," I said in admiration. "That's a lot of history for one little word," I laughed and looked at the other titles. "The other two holos are Roids Cavanaugh."

"Really!?" Paul sat up, his eye brightening. "Which ones?"

"Uhhh.. There's one with a big sixteen on it and below it says..."

"Wanted Dead: Roids Cavanaugh." Paul whistled. "An oldie but a goodie. They shot that holo back in the 22nd Century. It's a classic. What's the other?"

"It says: The Alba Patera Turkey Shoot, and has a number..."

"Two hundred and eighty-one! You're kidding, right?"

"Ummm... No?"

"Whoa! That's one of the best Roids Cavanaugh and Dixie Gomez adventures Devonshire ever wrote! Only he locked away rights for it until 2401."

"Why?" I asked. This whole thing was quite beyond me. "Wouldn't he be dead by now?"

"Devonshire?" he said, surprised. "Of course he's dead, Promise. You mean you've never heard of H.K. Devonshire? Or Roids Cavanaugh?"

"I'm sorry. I lived a pretty reclusive life until I turned nineteen. I didn't read much air-breather fiction. Mostly Pisces fiction. My favorite was Breathable Dark Weeping Skies by Twilight Sea."

"Pisces wrote fictional stories?" he asked, surprised in a different way.

"Of course we did, silly. Why not? Pisces are human, too. After a fashion. Certainly our two races share a love of imagination and reading."

"Sorry. I've just never heard of Pisces literature going into fiction. Tell you what..." He stood up and pulled out the bottle of alcohol from storage and passed me the chocolate, then sat down again.

"Here. You eat the chocolate, I'll drink the whiskey, and we'll edify each other on the finer points of fiction." He popped the cork off the bottle and held it out. Laughing, I touched the chocolate against it in 'cheers', and relaxed.

*    *    *

"Official Log Entry, May 31, 2432. Day six. Rations, air and fuel remain in good supply. All systems functioning. Arrival at Pluto estimated in 380 hours. Both passengers are in good spirits and continue to monitor and maintain all ship functions. End Log Entry, Paul Tyndale, former passenger of the Second Star."

I kept my eyes closed and enjoyed the sound of him moving about the cabin, making sure everything was in proper working order. The air was still quite fresh, but to conserve matter for emergency conversion, we had not showered since coming on board. As a result, the cabin was filled with a warm, safe man-smell.

There came a subdued hiss from the cook area, followed by the pungent, overpowering smell of coffee. Though I cared little for it, Paul absorbed the stuff by the liter. Another hiss and gentle clink of knife against plate told me he was preparing my morning hot chocolate and heavily salted bagel.

"Up and at 'em, Promise," he said cheerfully. I smiled and stretched, keeping my eyes closed just a few seconds longer. When I did finally open them, he was sitting beside my bed, a blanket and pillow in one corner of the floor.

I opened my arms wide. He leaned over so I could give him a big hug. He gave an oof! and stood, bringing me up with him. On my feet, I gave him a kiss on the cheek and released him.

"Morning, Paul!"

"Good morning, Promise. You get cleaned up and I'll lay out breakfast."

I took an appreciative sniff. "Smells good as always! I snuggled up to him again and gave an even more appreciative groan. "You especially, Paul!"

Leaving him with a stunned but pleased look on his face, I stepped into the ship's tiny bathroom.

By the time I'd emerged, ready for the next day, Paul had opened the small table - small and tiny were required adjectives for nearly everything in Lifeboat One - and laid out our meal. Bagel and hot chocolate for me, coffee and a bowl of flavored grains for Paul. He grinned and waved me to my chair; the copilot's chair, of course. 'Limited' was another required adjective.

"Dig in. It's not five star, but it sure beats eating vacuum."

"What? No fresh blue fin tuna this morning?" I whined, tossing my head indignantly. "I wish to complain to management at once!"

"Yes, ma'am!" he replied, eating a spoonful of his grains. "I'll ring for him immediately. It might take him another four hundred hours or so."

"Him?" I asked, sitting down. "Why not a her?"

"Because a 'her' would have done it right," he replied, taking a swallow of coffee.

"Got that straight!" I said.

"Takes a woman to put the fine touches on what a man provides."

"Oh?" I sipped the hot chocolate. "Mmm! This is very good, Paul! So where did you come up with that? Your Bible?"

"Thanks. I dropped in a little of the flavored chocolate bars to add a zing to it. Not really. More observation than Scripture. But, yes, men do have a role they serve in, as do women."

"Do tell!" I said. Over the years, Paul had constantly made his beliefs and teachings available to Chrissy and I. We agreed with some of what he confessed, and vehemently disagreed on other things. Paul had taken it all - even the occasional face slap, scornful look and hot temper - in stride. He never pushed his beliefs, but always stood by them. And after fifteen years, both Chrissy and I were not only tolerant of his peculiar life views, they had had an effect on our lives.

So we took our time over breakfast and he told me how God had created roles for men and women that were different so that they would better serve each other. I brought up countless examples where that didn't apply, but he wasn't bothered, instead explaining how either the roles were still in evidence, but that the evil in the universe - what he called sin - had corrupted our perfect roles. I never laughed at his beliefs, but they did sometimes astound me how someone so pleasant, intelligent and brave could follow teachings twenty-five hundred years old. This morning, I said as much.

"Which makes more sense, Promise?" he said with a shrug. "Teachings that are over two thousand years old? Or teachings that are two years old? Besides, the teachings of the Bible are over five thousand years, not two thousand."
"Obviously, neither would be appropriate," I answered. "One is too new, and therefore untested. The other is too old, and therefore not relevant."

"Odd that you would say that," he answered. He looked at me thoughtfully and sipped his coffee.

I smiled at him.

"I'm going to pay for this," I kidded him, "but okay, I'll bite. Why is it odd I would say that?"

"I just thought that, being Pisces, you would understand the value of maintaining focus on beliefs. After all, hasn't the Pisces mission remained unchanged for four hundred years? I mean, the mission and teachings were just as valid when they were two years old as now, when they're four hundred years old and only understood by one person. You. The last Pisces."

"Chrissy understands, too," I said quickly.

"Of course," he replied. "But not to the depth that you do. She can't. Chrissy's human, not Pisces."

"It's completely different," I argued. "The Pisces goals are carried on through Timelessness. We have perfect race memory to make sure we do not lose our way."

"And Christians have the Bible, the perfect memory of God, to make sure we do not lose our way."

"Aargh!" I exclaimed in frustration. "That's one thing I've always disliked about these talks, Paul. You always think you're right."

"Who, me?" he asked in reply. Then he chuckled. "No, Promise. I'm wrong in most things. That's why I trust in a God who _is_ right in everything. I am merely the servant to the message. Just as you do not decide what is or isn't to be in the Pisces mission. You are a servant to that mission. As am I, though not as good. More like a servant to the servant."

"Really?" I had him now. "But don't you object to the 'sinful' relationship Chrissy and I have? Married despite being both female?"

"I do not object by my own reasoning," he explained patiently. Didn't this man ever get upset? "I object because the Lord says it is wrong. Sexual relations is a blessing reserved for marriage, and marriage happens only between a man and a woman."

"Then you're saying we're 'wrong' because we aren't married? That we'd still be 'sinning' even if we were man and woman?"

"You and Chrissy compound your sin by acting on your sexual desires with another woman - each other - but yes, that's pretty much it."

"What about our love for each other?" I replied, getting a little angry. "How can so much good and happiness come from our union if it's so wrong?"

He shrugged.

"Define good. To me, good is the determination of a higher authority. If God is the highest authority, then he determines what is good, and he's said what you and Chrissy do is not good. That doesn't mean he hasn't still blessed your relationship with each other. God blesses everyone. Everybody's a sinner, Promise. I'm one of the worst, more so than you or Chrissy or anyone. The difference is that I understand I'm a sinner and struggle to not sin again. To do that, I obey what the Lord has taught us through his Word. I fail daily, but I continue to strive for it. Just as I strive to be the best servant possible for you."

*    *    *

"...There!" Paul slipped his hands out of the access panel and covered it. "The fuel mixture is running optimized now. Good thing you ran an instrument diagnostic, Promise."

"No thanks needed, Paul," I replied, running another one to verify the repair. "We've been in this lifeboat fourteen days now. My race has great patience - and you've done terrific with what I've taught you - but that doesn't mean doing something isn't as good." The indicator toned and I squeezed his hand. "Okay, we're running fine."

"How about remaining fuel?"

"Still good. We can brake and dock, but our reserve is gone."

"Could be worse," he said.

"Could be worse," I agreed. I turned the chair toward him as he sat in the pilot's chair. "Now where were we?"

"You were trying to convince me why the Pisces not expanding to other underwater cities was the proper path. That having only Darkness Keep was right."

"That's right," I nodded. "Well, even though we have the singular advantage of the Timelessness Swim, it doesn't work for instant communication."

"Why not?"

"First, you have to be in the Swim. Second, you have to find the person you're looking for. Third, and most critical, is it's Timelessness; you have no idea when the message was created."

"Of course," he said. Slapping his head. "And as you've explained, there's only one iteration of a Pisces in the swim, all residing at once and everywhere since 'at once' is a paradox in Timelessness." He shook his head. "Blows the mind."

I laughed. "You get used to it. I wish I could take you into Timelessness, Paul! You'd never be the same person again!"

He chuckled. "Would that be a good thing or a bad thing, Promise?"

"A better thing," I answered promptly.

*    *    *

Paul sat up from his lying position on the floor. It was pitch dark in our little craft, with only dim starlight to illuminate the cabin. It had been like this now for eight days.

On our twenty-fifth day, four days overdue to arrive at Pluto, we were approached by a ship. As a precaution, we shut down all systems, hoping they wouldn't spot us. They did, but not in time to pinpoint our location. Now, on day thirty-three, they were still trying. Unfortunately, every time we tried to use the sensors, they picked us up. It should have been impossible; zeroing in on the exact frequency of a ship's sensors was a one in a million. But the proof was in the ice on the portals. They couldn't see us while we ran at extreme low power. And we couldn't see them without risking being seen.

I heard a small click as he activated our sensors on the navigational panel. Almost immediately, he turned them off and made his way back to the heated blankets we were sharing. I held them open for him and he slid gratefully into them and cuddled close to me.

"Still out there?" I asked needlessly.

"Yes." He pulled me into his arms and I went willingly. Even a few minutes exposure to the bitterly cold cabin had made his body temperature drop.

"Let me do it next time, Paul," I said in a low tone. "You're not as rugged as I am."

"Just the thing to build up my ego," he wisecracked. "Good thing my ego froze to death just now. Okay. We'll take turns. We'll wait another eight hours and check again."

"Better make it twenty-four," I cautioned. "If they're in the same location when we turn on our sensors again, they'll locate us."

"Twenty-four it is," he agreed.

*    *    *

"Official Log Entry, July 17, 2432. Day forty-seven. Food and water are on emergency ration. Air is stale but still plentiful. Fuel is nearly exhausted due to course correction after a horizon pull by a nearby ball chaser. All systems functioning but failing. Arrival at Pluto estimated in... Arrival date at Pluto is unknown. Both passengers are in good spirits and continue to monitor and maintain all ship functions. End Log Entry, Paul Tyndale, former passenger of the Second Star."

He stood and stretched, taking a deep breath. By now the cabin contained nothing but our body scents. It was a pleasant blend, if somewhat powerful. He looked down at me in our bed and grinned. His beard was quite thick and had slivers of gray in it. He looked very distinguished, despite being dressed in very relaxed clothing.

"Care for a hot chocolate?"

"Mmmmm! Sounds good!" I replied, stretching myself and sitting up. "How much left?"

"Well, let's see." He turned toward the supply cupboard and did a quick inventory. All right, I admit it, I looked. For a man, Paul had a great ass. "Looks like enough for five or six more cups. Then you switch to coffee. Plenty of that."

"Not fair!" I made a sour face. "Sure, I'll have a hot chocolate, please. Heavy on the salt."

"I think I know that by now," he chuckled and prepared my drink. He brought it to me and lay down beside me while I sat up. His hand patted my knee a couple times.

In response, I slid a hand over his chest. So strong! His stomach was flat and hard, a thing of beauty under his tight shirt. I felt the need for companionship.

Setting the chocolate aside, I smiled at him and stretched my body over his. My hand went back to exploring and my lips closed on his. So warm! So safe! So...

Paul gave a grunt of surprise and pulled his mouth away.

"Promise. No. We can't do this." He sat up and reached for my hands. He held them in a loving clutch.

"Paul..."

"No, Promise. This is unfair to Chrissy. Think about her. Chrissy's your love, not me."

Chrissy...

I turned my head aside, breathing hard.

"Don't you find me..." I left the question open.

"Beautiful?" he finished. "Of course I do, Promise! You're beautiful and intelligent and funny and exciting and countless other things. And I love you, Promise."

I turned back to look in his eyes.

"Then why..."

"Because of Chrissy, too. Promise, I love you more than any woman I've ever known. Even..." He shook his head. "But you are in a relationship. A relationship with one of my best friends. I cannot betray her and I cannot betray your real feelings. What we would enjoy now would only later fill us with guilt and regret."

"But you say Chrissy and I are leading a sinful life. You disapprove of our marriage, our love, everything. How can you push me away when I feel this way about a man for the first time?" I began crying and he pulled me into his arms.

"Promise," he began softly, his warm breath brushing my ear and gill, sending a deep tingle through me. "Don't you see? Even though I know your level of commitment to Chrissy is wrong, I still respect the actual commitment. And I've never doubted your love for each other. A real, God given, God blessed love. You and Chrissy have simply taken a blessing and corrupted it with sinful lusts for each other.

"But you two are in love and you two are in a permanent relationship with each other. I cannot go against that. Nor should I attempt to damage it by doing either of you any harm.

"As for your feelings about me, Promise," he snuggled even closer to me and whispered. "I would like nothing more than to return your need for me. It may be real. You could be feeling the first true tugs of proper desire.

"Or you may be using me as a stand in for Chrissy. We've been together on this lifeboat for almost seven weeks now. And together as comrades for fifteen years. It's impossible for the relationship between two people not to change over that time and these circumstances."

"I love you, Paul."

"The sweetest words I've heard in a long, long, time." He kissed me gently on the lips. "And from you, Promise, their tenderness fills me to bursting. I love you, too, Promise. But you and Chrissy belong together. We must be true to each other by staying true to her."

I nodded and began crying. How much I missed her! Oh, Chrissy! What had I almost done? Only the man who now embraced me, who never approved, who always tried to correct, who never compromised on his beliefs, only this man had saved what you and I have.

We laid down together and Paul pulled the blankets over us. I snuggled up to him and felt safe and secure and... And...

And in love.

*    *    *

"August 21, 2432. Day Eighty-two. Supplies, fuel, water; gone. Air at three percent. End log."

*    *    *

"...tified craft. This is science vessel _Galahad_, stationed out of Triton microcolony. Do you read us? We are approaching you and will dock in twenty minutes.

"Attention, unidentified craft. This is science vessel _Galahad_, stationed out of..."

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