Grating woke me. Heart beating, I sat, held by trembling arms. My head swiveled pinpointing the sound. Was there a hull breach? No, I was dark. Too far from any trade route, debris, hunk of space rocks or anything else. My post’s position had been chosen deliberately, and nine years proved its secrecy.

“Don’t do this.” I swiveled. Even with light washing her features, I knew it was Sarina in the doorway. “Asher,” her voice broke, “don’t do this.” I turned back to my station, finishing my preparations. Departure was only an hour away.

Jud stood in front of the notice board thumbs tucked into his belt loops. People milled about him, all fifty or older he knew. Milled searching the endless wall of photos.

I stared blankly as air hissed through the ducts with a faint taint of smoke. Was that from the shaft or me? I ran my hands over my legs pressing hard as I tried to calm my shudders.

The tension was thicker than the worn-out cushions as we sat in the living room. At least it wasn’t punctuated by crying. Awkward tea sipping and attempted furtively looks (which failed miserably) at Tammy, absolutely.

Summer examined the bay, tapping her datapad against her chin. Bins were stacked high with barcodes face out to track the contents of each. Or hide them.

The Bishop was headed out. Finally. I didn’t appreciate being scolded by uptight captains who hadn’t a clue about my job. I snorted. I wasn’t lazy, and yes, I knew there was a war happening.

Elrad frowned. He was in the elevator again. Stepping to the windows he scowled. The city spread with lights like a jewel box. She’d be behind him again. If he turned she’d be there in her black and white glory. If he didn’t the dream wouldn’t advance. Which was worse?