A wide, featureless ocean spread across the window at dizzying speed.  When Ship hit atmosphere its Whisper Drive funneled the fearsome heat of reentry into the Lorentz trap, creating protons, obscuring the thermal and sonic sign of their descent.

            “Do you wish to jack in for better control?” asked Ship.

            “I’ll eyeball it,” Mike stated.

            “That is ill-advised.”

            “Just like all the other times,” he muttered.  White capped hills of water exploded into proximity.  A half heartbeat later Mike activated the inertial shunt, sending the ship at a right angle to the churning waves.  The Whisper Drive snarled at this affront to physics, but dutifully added the energy cost to the trap.  “I’ll miss that maneuver,” Mike said softly.

            “37.5 meters.  Your best to date,” said Ship.  “Tracking systems engaged and locked.  Deviation from path is 0.6.  Will you be managing data collection?”

            “You do it,” said Mike.  “I’ll fly.”  His eyes narrowed as he fine-tuned the ship’s flight path.  Only now were his hands growing slick from sweat.  Only now was his idiotic heart pounding in his chest.

The coastline surged forward, slapping away the ocean.  A distant vertical black line bisected the sky, approaching fast, and slowly drifting left.  Soft chimes rang within the cabin as they closed upon their target.  Mike dumped speed, taking them subsonic.  The pulsing of the chime increased, blurring into a continuous tone as they reached their goal.

            And just like that they passed it by...

%-%  %-%  %-%

            Rihanna nuzzled her cheek against Molly, while far off thunder rumbled.  Moments like this made her feel most in control of herself, most at peace.  Gazing serenely into the distance she nearly missed it, a flickering heat mirage; a brief distortion in the sky speeding away with preternatural swiftness.  She gripped Molly tightly, ignoring her protests.

            “You know what a hug is, right?” Molly growled, slipping from Rihanna’s arms.

            “Huh?  Yeah.  You’re supposed to report to the Super before you go home.”

            Molly took Rihanna’s hand and tugged, “Wanna bet they finally found something worse for me to do than inspecting the drop trays?  You coming along?”

            Rihanna shook her head, combing a blond strand from her face.  “No, I have something I want to check out.  Meet me at Tessa’s.  We’ll have a bite and watch the auras before we crash.”

            “I thought that was a poor use of our meager income,” Molly said in a mock stern voice.  But she leaned forward, giving Rihanna a kiss, quelling any chance of a retort before jogging off, her dark hair bobbing.

            Rihanna watched her departing form, enjoying the sight, anticipating the night.  Her eyes narrowed as she turned away and began striding purposefully in the direction of the passing mirage, towards the ruins of the Old City.

%-%  %-%  %-%

            “I’ve prepared a data stick,” Ship asked.

            “Give me printouts, please,” said Mike.  “I’m going tech dark.”  He collected each picture as it emerged from the slot, slipping them unseen into his chest pocket.  Reaching overhead he tugged down an old battered rucksack holding a crater gun and a JATO stick and enough supplies for a few days.  “We’re going to break silent running when I roll out.  You snap shut and blast straight up.  Use every joule in the trap.  Don’t stop until you’re well past lunar orbit.”

            “Your orders for after that?”

            “Good question,” said Mike.  “Where in space would you like to go?”

            “Sir?”

            “It’s a simple question,” Mike insisted.  “Given the choice, where would you like to go?”

            “I am defined by purpose,” said Ship.  “Your purpose.  My wishes are defined by what you deem pertinent to our mission and the needs of the Stellar Service.”

            “Uh-huh.  Listen carefully, Ship.  I want you to review your considerable memories and experiences, and from them formulate a location you believe commensurate with gathering useful and interesting information, or better yet find something that’s just fun.”

            “Fun?” asked Ship.

            “Yes,” said Mike.  “We’ve been over this one before.  Fun creates memories with no required utility beside later recollection.  Like that time we watched the nova at M31N 2008-12a.  You said you liked that.”

            “May these experiences have later utility?”

            “That’s allowed,” Mike conceded.

            “I have identified a suitable target,” said Ship.  “But I require resupply before continuing.  When shall we do this?”

            “I’m not coming,” said Mike.  “I have business here that will keep me engaged for weeks or months, possibly forever.  You’ll have to provision yourself.”  Reaching into a shoulder pocket he slipped out a data stick, and snapped it into one of the available sockets.  “The passcode is Mandelbrot Zed Lanthanum Square Yttrium.”

            “This gives me access to your personal accounts,” said Ship.  “Such access is contravened under Stellar Service Article 77, paragraphs 3 through 6.”

            “Ah, but I haven’t given you direct access.  Under Article 83, paragraph 2 is a quaint little bit allowing pilots to create insurance accounts for their vessels.  Oddly enough that directive specifically allows a ship to tend to its own needs, pending pilot approval.  So with that in mind, please record the following statement.  I, Senior Scout Commander Michael Sinclair Curadh, HVC-X1-237344, hereby authorize Stellar Service Scout Ship MV-9000-773-01 full access to the Rigby Company Insurance Policy account number AC2546367-005.  This includes allowing them to draw funds in my name for any reasonable function of Stellar Service Scout Ship MV-9000-773-01 that is not in violation of Stellar Service rules, or anything you think may piss me off.  The data stick given to you can only be used to replenish the Rigby Company Insurance Policy previously described.  Stellar Service Scout Ship MV-9000-773-01 indicate your understanding and compliance with a simple yes or no.”

            “Yes,” said Ship.

            “And that’s it,” said Mike.  “My pension supports the account on the stick.  If anyone asks where I am, tell them I’m getting drunk while you’re taking care of provisions.  Nobody will ever question you on that one.”

            “As you wish.”

            Mike gripped the control yoke.  “You know how people get emotional, right?”

            “I have direct experience of that,” said Ship.

            “Remind me to congratulate your builders,” said Mike.  “They did a hell of a job.  It has been a privilege serving with you, Ship.  I’m going to bail out now.  My last order is for you to get the hell away from here as fast and as safe as possible.  Go have fun.”

            “Goodbye,” said Ship.  The canopy over Mike snapped back, and the vessel rolled over, letting Mike spring out onto the rooftop they were hovering over.  The canopy slammed back into place, and suddenly the ship was gone leaving Mike alone.  He gazed towards the setting sun for a moment before hitching his rucksack higher onto his back and heading for the service exit.