Chapter 1. Return to Launch Point
Return to Oreana Part I
PART I
Return to Launch Point
The windows in the departure lounge of Starbase Hendre, the closest ISEA space station to Earth’s orbit, were large: high and broad, presenting to the room’s occupants a vast vista of space that many of them were about to journey into. Joanni stood directly in front of the glass, peering up into that vista, ignoring the many shuttlecrafts and small vessels going about their missions. Rather, she focused fervently on the countless stars before her, each one of which contributed its own message, decipherable just to her, in their blinking and twinkling astral font. These messages blended one into another. She thought about her captain, whom she was about to see once more, and about her Primora, whom she would never see again. Time was relenting on one hand and cruel on the other. But while time could ravage the mind and body—even these stars would one day age and die, she mused—the essence of what was loved would never change.
Joanni’s phone, jammed into a pocket of the traveling case parked next to her, buzzed, interrupting the young woman’s reverie. It was the commander of the station, informing her that the Eridanus was now in orbit around Starbase Hendre, and that she could proceed to the transport tube station at her convenience.
“Thank you, Commander Rory. Thanks for all your help.”
“Ah, no thanks necessary, Lt. Neiswender. You’re an old pro at this now. Safe travels,” Rory said.
‘Yes, it’s going back to the beginning and starting all over, except it’s completely different—in all aspects,’ Joanni thought, oddly unsettled by the commander’s anodyne remarks. ‘That is just that; no more, no less.’ She picked up her pace, pulling her small suitcase on wheels behind her. (One undeniable difference in this journey was that she was traveling much lighter.) Pushing her way through the last set of double doors, Joanni starting walking even faster, her emotions getting the better of her decorum, until finally, she starting trotting, running up the ramp to the tube station, feet flying, so that anyone behind her would have been able to spy the distinctive olive green-colored soles of her standard-issue ankle boots.
Aboard the Eridanus, Lt. Morrison picked up on a transmission from Starbase Hendre; it was a request for transport up to the galaxyship. She turned toward Captain Tom Chipman who was sitting, as usual, in the command chair and relayed the request. Both understood the significance of the moment.
“Pipe it over here,” he told her. He punched a button and said, “Chipman here.”
“Requesting permission to board, sir.” The familiar voice grabbed at his heart.
“Permission granted,” was all he said. He punched the button off, but made no other move. He too was plunged into thought about the past and future, about beginnings and endings. He was amazed that during her absence, he and his crew had traveled to new worlds far afield, had lived through adventures good and bad, no second of which he would wish to relinquish, to deny himself the exhilaration of the experience of them, none of which Joanni Neiswender was involved in or had any knowledge of, and yet—and yet—she remained central and immediate in his mind and heart. He was wary of ceding any independence or control, was loath to surrender to the complexity of his feelings, but also knew as a certainty that his loneliness had been a burn across his soul, and her presence was a balm that finally soothed the pain.
Chipman motioned First Officer Samuel to take command and headed down to the transport tube platform. He found himself trotting down the last corridor. Annoyed at himself, he stopped, but it was just as well he had hurried along, because he entered the transport bay just as canister #6 starting spinning.
Image: The battle for memories is joined. Source: “And a Large Bird, Descending From the Sky, Hurls Itself Against the Topmost Point of Her Hair,” Odilon Redon, France, 1888. The Art Institute of Chicago. CC0 Public domain.