Chapter Text
Last meal before returning to the ships.
Passengers and crews took advantage of it, the Chasse-Galerie had its own kitchens, and even the plainest canteen was better than the best board ration. Today, beef-flavoured stew served on white rice. Terry had received a bowl of little seafoam smelling balls, strange to the human senses, but that he seemed to appreciate. Last meal at a well set table, last moment of freedom before crossing the solar system on board the little government ship.
Between two bites, André shared his thoughts: "Once we're back on Earth, do you think they'll fire us, or arrest us?"
Eliza had to mark a pause herself to finish chewing before answering: "Us? You have bigger problems than us, boss!"
She immediately regretted her words, realising that he wasn't joking. She couldn't really reassure him, he had caused a diplomatic incident by pure stupidity and stubbornness, precipitated an independence movement and destroyed a trade deal. Blame would be handed out, and André would receive the lion's share. "I was scared" wouldn't carry much weight as a justification.
"We'll be on your side, you won't be alone, right Marc?"
He nodded, hurried to swallow his rice, and agreed: "We still have time to agree on a story, if you want."
André frowned. "Don't say that, the last thing I need is to get caught for perjury on top of it."
Terry was the only one to say nothing. He didn't have his harness, and Eliza didn't have her glasses, so no translation would help them understand each other. Her species was usually talkative at the table, its spiracles working independently from its mouth sparing it this absurd constraint of the human anatomy, but their whistle had a too different sound to share the same language, and it was apparently ruder to eat in public with an AR gear than to confine a guest to silence.
The end of the supraluminal trip could have been more agreeable.
The least well fueled ships went first. The Chasse-Galerie launched vehicles towards their destination with its magnetic acceleration rail, and a calm recovery orbit, that required few man?uvres, was saved for those.
The four bureaucrats would have to wait for their turn then: planet 157B's settlers had topped up their fuel tanks for free, despite their disastrous stay. Either they didn't know how to treat an enemy, or they knew it better than the Earthlings.
Each in their turn, the small ships rolled along the launch parabola, from the concave surface its rotation kept them on, to its flat bottom where pseudo-gravity failed, to be taken on by the launcher. Traffic towards Earth was intense, it was long, it was boring. Strapping oneself properly was too long to just step out and walk around during the wait and, worst of all, it wasn't safe to wear AR gear during the launch.
Finally their turn came. The man?uvres were almost entirely automated, the ship moved into place. A chime warned about the acceleration one second ahead of time, but its force still surprised them. Even with the adapted seats, the straps holding them in the ideal position, the compression cushions stopping blood from pooling in their legs, their vision turned dark before reaching the end of the rail. The body paid the price for the saved time and fuel.
Terry untied himself almost the moment their cruising speed was reached. His small size had advantages, he easily tolerated G forces. The others had to wait a few minutes, and suffered cramps and headaches when they started moving again.
André and Eliza practically raced towards the computer terminals. The auditor beat the analyst to it: he flew to it in a straight line, she stopped to grab her devices first. But soon enough, both were sending electronic queries at Earth. Even with several days of travel left, it was wise to ask for a landing permission as soon as a flight plan could be estimated.
Downloading the news, work's latest directives and news from family were obviously among the first things to do. And finally, transmit their last mission's report for a preliminary study before presenting it in person. It would take thirty-one minutes for their call to reach Earth, and as many for its response to reach them. André's troubles officially began with this transmission.
Technically, the environmental analyst's work focused on the planet they toured, preparing for its visit, analysing its inhabitants' adaptations to its conditions, detecting potential disasters... nearing Earth, Eliza could have gotten away with doing a little clerical work and taking it easy. But their team had beaten the road together enough to share the workload beyond strict definitions of their field of expertise. They may well have panicked in front of 157B's hive mind, they were forging themselves one through long standing camaraderie, without technological shortcuts... or almost.
Terry twisted around to slip his legs into the correct loops of his Ar harness, his strange little starfish body capable of incomprehensible positions in zero gravity. Eliza turned her goggles on: in their augmented reality space, they could speak freely.
