Past to Future, Part 2

"Captain April, I'm Mala Hendriksson, the Arcadia's chief flight officer.  I was ordered to ferry you up to her."

April focused on Hendriksson and allowed a tiny smile to play on his lips.  'Her', she called it.  That too was as it should be: Arcadia was a grand young lady, still too new even after seven years to be called 'old'... a majestic duchess of the space lanes.  For four of those years, she had been his lady... the love of his life.  When had it changed?  When had he fallen out of love with her... and could he fall in love with her, again?  Like so many uncertainties these days, that remained to be seen.

Formal, he thought of Hendriksson, but not too formal: She didn't state her rank, though it was obvious.  Perhaps someone he could work with.  There was a time for formality; this didn't have to be one of them.  He wasn't in uniform, nor officially in command again, yet.  He remembered the first time he greeted a fellow officer from the Arcadia – Lieutenant Commander Winter Bauval.  He was wound tighter than a piano string, back then... which she never let him forget.

"At ease, Miss Hendriksson."  As she relaxed, he glanced at the open hatchway, turned and glanced back toward the temple, and noticed the slight aversion of her eyes from it.  "Do you have something against walking, Commander?  Or just temples?"

Mala inwardly stood her ground during the captain's assessment, though his gaze contained a deeper sort of questioning than most officers she had known.  Still, that aspect of the situation, that sort of assessment, was hardly new to her.  She resolved to prove herself to him.  Which of course, she would have to do, if she were to keep her post.

Then his question stung, with its implied accusation of laziness – not a fault often attributed to her!  But his last remark angered her.  Not even a captain had the right to question her in matters of personal belief or disbelief.

She met his gaze with her own, pondering for only a moment, then replied, "I assure you I have nothing against walking, sir.  As for temples – I consider entering or not entering them to be a matter of personal conscience. Except of course, during emergencies, or under direct order."

April regarded her.  He had just struck a nerve.  He noted a subtle pitch in tension, in Hendriksson's words, her expression, her posture... and was reminded of another, former helmsman: the infamous Joycelyn Havercroft, whose own anger led to a breakdown in discipline, ending with her attempts to murder him and destroy his ship.  Now wasn't the time for questions, but April was forced to wonder: What was it, with flight officers assigned to him?  While it paled in comparison to the Havercroft extreme, it seemed obvious Hendriksson had something against this place, and him, for asking.  Or religious grounds in general.  Perhaps she simply followed a different religion which forbade her from entering foreign temples.  He'd have to remember, and respect, that... so long as it didn't interfere with her duties.

~Congratulations~, he told himself.  ~You just did it again.~

The wind picked up, chillier than before.  He motioned to the open hatch on the shuttlepod.  "After you, Miss Hendriksson."

She nodded.  "Aye, Captain."

April cast one last look behind him, at the towering peak of King Solomon's Temple.  How fitting, he thought, that this should be the last sight he saw, before leaving Earth... the cruxpoint in the turning wheel of his life, at the center of the spokes of destiny.  Or perhaps that was yet to come... in Earth orbit, above.  Where would the wheel take him next?

As Mala climbed back into the pilot's seat, then waited for Captain April to take the seat beside her, she carefully held her expression to reflect a professional demeanor.  She'd realized that his glance held more than casual attentiveness, that he was gauging her.  ~I've probably already made my first mistake with the captain, in the first five minutes after meeting him.  But how was I supposed to respond to those questions?  With some noncommittal inanity?  Or an apology – for breaching some etiquette that's important to him.  Well, it's certainly too late to redo the first impression.  Onward and upward, from here.~

As she brought the pod's systems online, checked readouts, transmitted navigational data and flight plan to the local traffic control net and lifted off, Mala felt more herself.  She almost, but not quite, relaxed.  She gave no thought to how much attention the captain might be giving to her performance.  She assumed he trusted her abilities thus far.  Most of all, she trusted herself – and with much more than just this simply executed trip.  If only all aspects of life were so easy to manage!  Her thoughts settled then, becoming as silent as her voice, as her awareness filled with the routines and feel of flight, from moment to moment.  Movement.  Away from the patterned lights below, into the clear night sky.  Beyond the possibilities of weather and cloud.

Stars.  And a cluster of pinpoint lights, gradually growing into lines and form, then definite complex shape.

To Mala, a starship was the epitome of beauty and evolution – and a link to as much infinity as seemed possible for any living being to experience.  And the Arcadia with her quantum slipstream drive promised even deeper levels of that experience.

At that moment, when the Arcadia became fully visible beyond the pod's viewport, Mala's feelings of wonder were no less than when she'd seen the ship for the first time, only hours before.  Suddenly, she considered what the Arcadia's captain might be feeling.  She couldn't really imagine it, of course – those layers and layers of history through which he and the ship had lived, together.  Those slices of infinity.

Mala wanted to look at his face, see his expression.  To share in that moment.  But of course, she didn't look.  He certainly deserved his privacy in that instant.  It occurred to her that, whatever differences the two of them might have, the Arcadia would be the link that connected them.  During that next slice of infinity.

In the passage from Earth to space, April found himself.  He found himself.  There was never anything quite like it... the magic of the step, crossing the threshold from one moment to the next, from atmosphere to void, where the stars stopped twinkling and started blazing, like some cosmic rite of ascension.  It had been too long, for him, taking that step, and finding what it was he had forgotten.  For a moment, a moment in which all of eternity locked and held, he forgot all his concerns, all his worries, all his problems... and it was just him, mono e mono with the universe.

He could have beamed up, but since he was doing this, he wanted to do it the old-fashioned way – the right way: By shuttle, as before, the first time he took command.  It provided more of an experience, a gradual feed of magic he could taste.  Besides, he loved his planet.  He didn't know when he'd see Earth again.  Jumping straight aboard by transporter, he'd miss everything in-between.  This way slowed his retreat from the world of his birth... gave him longer to say goodbye.  He set a mental reminder to transmit a thank-you note to Admiral Thoreau, once back on board and settled in, for pressing... no, indulging April, into taking the shuttle.

Through the viewport he looked down on the clouds he just saw from within, hours earlier.  Beneath the snow blanket of cotton sprawled the Michigan peninsula, brown in a blue-muted haze.  The cloud layer framed the Great Lakes in thin crescent sweeps.

And over it, grazing the atmospheric blue rim of the planet, sat Arcadia.  Free of drydock once more, her running lights blinking, inviting, as if smiling, saying 'Come on in'.  The protruding arrow of her bow nosed towards them, as if to meet them halfway.  The shuttle lifted once, up and over, long enough for them to read the black lettering on the hull... U.F.S. ARCADIA; below that, NCC-A1... before it circled and dipped, down under the cone, skimming her tritanium contours, past the stardrive section, to the rear hangar at the stern.  The bay doors were already open to their entrance.  The shuttle slid through the forcefield without effort, and settled to the deck.

April let out a breath, looked to the woman at his left and smiled.  "Thank you, Miss Hendriksson."  He rose from his seat and headed towards the hatch.  "I look forward to seeing how you do with starships."