Epilogue

Albategnius Spaceport, Earth’s Moon

           “How have things been for you on Trucowl 5 during the last three years – really?”

           “Thanks for asking, Vic,” Kogure replied. “I've been okay. It’s great to see you and Deb again.”

           “Are you ready to come home yet?”

           “Almost, Deb. I miss Akio more than you can know. It’s really great to see you again. So far as coming home, it all depends on how this mission goes.”

           “What is this mission,” asked Lisa Stewart, “that you had to threaten a Trucowl attack on Earth unless I came with you?”

           “You’re putting words in my mouth, Madame President,” said Kogure. “But Earth is indeed in peril, and I desperately need you to stop that from happening.”

           “Specify,” demanded Stewart.

           “Only from aboard the Trucowl Flagship. We’re already running late.”

           “When will we return?” Stewart asked.

           “That doesn’t matter,” said Kogure. “All that matters now is that there is going to be an Earth to which we can return.”

           “How is Trucowl 5 involved in all of this?” asked Victor Martin.

           “The truth is, all of my earlier reports to you about the state of Trucowl 5 were heavily censored. That I do know. I don’t know what you missed. Since the death of the King of Trucowl 5, the planet's true political power has been in the Parliament. The Queen isn't a weak female Trucowl, but she is simply outnumbered. Please come – we must reconvene to the Trucowl Flagship.”

           So leaving Wind Force One, much of President Stewart’s staff, and LIBERTY 77 behind, they were soon on the Trucowl Flagship.

* * *

Albategnius Spaceport Space Traffic Control Center, Earth’s Moon

In the Space Traffic Control Center of Albategnius, Wil Pasachoff, the 27^th Century’s astronomer as capable but not as famous as Antonio DiNyro looked at the various sensors at his disposal as he turned to Dave Joliff, who came here as a demotion from Earth. He had verified that the humans were now aboard the Trucowl Flagship. “Dave, change the designation of Wind Force One without the President of North America aboard?” Joliff presented the chance to his space survey scope, and pointed to the answer. Pasachoff nodded and opened up his communications microphone. “Trucowl ship, this is Albategnius Control, prepare to depart and advise you have orbital gravimetric and solar weather update India.”

“They’re not responding,” said Joliff as he watched the Trucowl ship lift off as smoothly as a hot air balloon on Earth in calm winds. “But obviously, they have taken it upon themselves to leave without clearance. I would give good money to figure out how that thing flies like that - without propulsion or energy fields whatsoever.”

“Obviously,” said Pasachoff as he directed his next transmission to the newly designated Wind Force One. “November 1201 Bravo this is Albategnius Control, when ready proceed to Taxiway one-left and hold short until we show Trucowl heavy clear on Space Displacement Sensors. Advise in receipt of India.”

“Roger, rolling to hold short, have India,” came the voice.

“Wil – the Trucowls are already Superoptic – they don’t even show up on Space Displacement Sensors at all. Charon Station is tracking their departure from the Solar System. They have better gear.”

“Understood.”

“However, Wil,” said Joliff, “there’s an unscheduled arrival reported from Ganymede Station tracking. The relay has the object arriving interstellar from … one eight seven galactic. Ganymede says it pings with an Earth beacon. Their Superoptic transponder messaging queue indicates that as soon as they go Suboptic they’ll be declaring an emergency – and landing here. The coding indicates a damaged control surface that should be a quick fix by our Intermediate Maintenance Depot. Superoptic transponders don’t have a lot of room for messages but for shorthand numbers – the translation from Ganymede may or may not be reliable.”

“Ganymede is good - I was the head astronomer out there for years. Sad to say, I hope the information is correct - we can sure use the business,” said Pasachoff. “Let’s get ‘em safe here first.” He turned to Kim Jenkins at the Spaceflight Planning Desk. “What interstellar flight plans are still open?”

“A few due-regard ships here and there from Sunshine Mining, a military transport that should land on Tau Sag, LIBERTY 97 which should be in the Suaner Star System by now … and … LIBERTY 72.”

“LIBERTY 72 certainly is overdue,” said Joliff. “But they should be coming from the other way – from the Galactic Core and Sagittarius - not from the outer rim of the Milky Way and Gemini.”

“Could be that they were lost, but now are found,” said Pasachoff as he opened up the communications to President Stewart’s leap.  “November 1201 Bravo, emergency inbound heavy has priority – your patience is appreciated. Please roll back to the tarmac and await further instructions.”

“Understood – no problem.”

* * *

LIBERTY 72 approaching Earth’s Moon

          “Yes, Albategnius Control, this is LIBERTY 72 – Joseph Carr in command. On our last fuel stop we had a slight mishap with our port outer Elevarudder when a sea creature the size of San Clemente Island decided to find out what Strasium tastes like. The EFFB kicked it off, but not before some relays and gears slipped out of place. Could be a bad sensor, or could be a loose flap. Should be an easy fix, if your Intermediate Maintenance Depot wants to take a stab at it.”

“Uh, I was just informed,” said Pasachoff, “that all maintenance contracts with Liberty Enterprises are on hold until further notice. You may be here for a while, I’m afraid. I do apologize - this truly just came in to me when I put the SIMD on notice.”

“This is President Lisa Stewart of North America. We’re going to extend a significant credit line to Liberty Enterprises when I get back to Salt Lake City. Please conduct the repairs on the currency of my word. Is Wind Force One still there?”

“Uh, yes Madame President – they’ll be waiting for you. But … how are you there? You just left aboard a Trucowl Flagship.”

Stewart paused and the man standing next to her volunteered an answer. “Albategnius Control, this is Liberty Enterprises President Jonas Bu’Tan. We have been transferred to LIBERTY 72 safely, including Admiral Martin and his wife. For now, suffice it to say that what goes in space stays in space.”

“Very well,” said the voice of a very perplexed Pasachoff. “LIBERTY 72, no significant gravitational deviations, no traffic. You’re cleared to land on Runway Zero Niner. Have you right on energy and right on descent path. Have a good landing, Sir. See you soon.”

“Roger,” said a very pleased Joseph Carr as Earth’s Moon seemed to get closer and closer at a faster and faster rate as Julie Perkins maintained a precision nosedive for the steeply angled threshold of the landing ramp angled far off the Moon’s surface. No course correction would be required – she could leave her Pilot’s Station now and the ship would land just fine by the ship’s interaction with the ramp which in turn leveled out across the flat Albategnius Crater runway with miles to spare for the ship to come to a complete stop. In time, after the Landing Pods made contact with the ramp and gravity pulled the ship smoothly down to the flat runway, they were finally coming to a stop several miles across the runway with several miles available if needed. “Albategnius, LIBERTY 72. Wheels stopped.” Carr then became tempted to leave the ship now himself, after leaving Earth and traveling 29,000 Light Years to the turn point before circling the Galactic Core, going perhaps another 10,000 light years around it, then struggling another 29,000 Light Years to make it as far as Phi Sag which in the Summer of 2903 should be a dazzling display in the night skies of Earth as its light would shift into a rolling Vortex before both planet and star would complete be consumed in the process of creating the vortex. And to add insult to injury for his overworked ship, it had to make it another 16,000 light years to reach home from the outer rim of the Galaxy, where the Astenfaji and Isvarala would stay content in their new star cluster as new best friends - hopefully for all time, whether or not they would find no reason in the future to attack Earth - at least in the case of the Astenfaji which already had blood on their flippers. The apology for the bloodshed offered by the Astenfaji was through reparations of a promise to never do it again. Contrition was lacking, but Kogure and Secowm had taken the victory they were offered, not the one they would have preferred. 

In the background there were noises of cheering and hand claps from far more people who had been in the control room earlier. Either because an emergency had been declared or because LIBERTY 72 was returning, the spectators did not miss a chance to witness this landing. “Roger, LIBERTY 72 – wheels stopped. On behalf of the entire Earth Star System – welcome home. If you have no post-landing Deltas please roll to the Spacecraft Intermediate Supply Depot for repairs. Consult facility map and standard Notice to Spacemen if you need directions.” Carr was tempted to leave now for his last launch from the Earth Star System as the Commanding Officer, but he knew that it would be best if the SIMD maintenance experts would take a quick look at the whole ship to ensure its safety was really as intact as he had imagined it. Critical parts that needed to be replaced could be done, he knew, by cannibalizing parts from disabled sister ship LIBERTY 77, known to be here.

“Actually,” said Carr as tears formed in his eyes, “please make the repairs as quickly as you can and if you don’t mind, throw a few cryogenically pre-prepared fuel blocks our way. I intend to Debark the four in President Stewart’s Party, Yukiko Kogure, and 49 passengers we picked up on Nunki Spaceport whose stay was unavoidably prolonged, plus about fourteen members of my crew who have advised me without fear of reprisal or reprimand that their fun meter has peaked. Also, we have unfortunately suffered 9 casualties whose bodies will be available to the Honor Guard in a location my First Officer will detail.”

“Roger all, said Pasachoff. In the background, the microphone was still open when Joliff’s unmistakable comment came through.

“Gee! Look at that thing on the close-up monitor. Every time Joe Carr brings back that thing, he brings back a bigger and bigger mess for the ground teams to clean up. You’d figure they’ find a Commanding Officer with a little more pride by now.”

Carr and Jones exchanged smiles on the MCC, and Carr gave the honors to Jones. “Hey, Joliff! Yeah it’s me – Ed Jones. If you can’t say something nice, then don’t say anything unless it’s in front of our faces! Isn't this how you got fired from the Pacific Test Range - running your big mouth like that?” Needless to say, this would be Joliff’s last day working at this Spaceport as the communications were disconnected by Carr.

“Joe,” said Stewart, “let my staff take care of the bodies. We will make sure they have full military honors – which is rather rare for a crew flying the flag of a Corporation – but your crew deserves no less.”

“Very well, Madame President. If their families are so willing to wait for my return, I will be glad to be at each and every funeral. I should take 16 hours to get to Trucowl 5, then about five hours there including arrival and departure, a quick trip that should last about 12 hours to Myrrh 1 on the way back for more fuel, and then I’ll be home – on Earth. So if everything goes according to plan, I should be back in a little over 48 hours after we leave.”

So leaving in addition to the four guests from the Trucowl vessel were Monique Rivers, Antonia DiNyro, Antonio DiNyro, Julie Perkins, and of course Yukiko Kogure, who now would take a long overdue vacation on Earth before deciding what to do next. Ranger Sanchez would come up to man the Engineering Station, and Carr would be more capable of piloting the vehicle himself for its last spaceflight under his command, as the ship would be in the repair yards for years to fix all of its damage. The possibility remained that it would be scrapped or converted into a museum once back on Earth.

And of course, Carr would still have a First Officer – and it would be none other than the love of his life, Captain Cynthia Esperanza Ferrando.

* * *

LIBERTY 72, atop the Space Elevator Landing Disk atop Trucowl 5’s Capitol City, 9,450 Light Years from Earth in the direction of the North America Nebula and Deneb

           The Passenger Ramp not unlike the ancient ones used in the tail section of Earth’s first jet airliners such as the DC-9 – but much longer and larger swiveled down from under the LLS Bay of LIBERTY 72. Their sole purpose in coming here was to say goodbye to Fioha Secowm, who would now undergo the challenges of tradition passed down from untold ages ago as by what was apparently a supernatural means, Secowm would answer all of the questions wisely and accurately as they would be asked of her. An older Precept required the extermination of anyone attempting to become a Monarch fraudulently, as no fraud could possibly answer the questions correctly. In practice, no one would even dare but the true heir to the Throne. The Isvarala formerly known as the Queen of Trucowl 5 had prepared Secowm well, and had stayed with the rest of the Isvarala in NGC-2158 to co-exist in peace and harmony with the Astenfaji, perhaps for centuries – perhaps by eons. This would be a rare, but not unknown occasion where someone in the society’s aristocracy or nobility was not chosen to be the Queen, and she would be able to pick the King of her choosing – which would be the Trucowl she had met as a child that she fell in love with. True, they would never have children together, but together all Trucowls would become their children. The sooner she could convince Panalf Plegio to be her husband, the better, as two always seem to be more effective here at fighting off the local Parliament than one.

           “Joe,” said Secowm as they prepared to walk down the ramp, “you can not come. I am sorry.”

           “Can’t we just ride the Space Elevator down to the city and back?” asked Carr.

           “Use your sensors on your way off,” she said, “and imagine the ride in your creative human brain. Joe, I was given a life by you that no Commoner – nor any Queen will ever experience on Trucowl 5. Now, unless I command you – and I won’t … I can’t - you are not to speak to me. That’s just how it is. Do you understand?”

           “Yes.”

           “Do you promise to never call me?”

           “I promise.”

           “I mean it – for a Trucowl Queen to get calls from aliens – it would put me in a very difficult position with my culture.”

           “Your culture sucks, Fioha.”

           “Yes,” she said. “I know. That’s why I will miss yours so much. Thank you for everything, again. You will always be in my heart, and in my good intentions.”

           “And you will always be in my prayers. May the God you refuse to believe in bless you – always.”

           “We believe in God. We just don’t believe we’ll ever see God face to face like you will. But yes, we do pray to this God – and I will pray for you, every day.”

           “And I will resist temptation and the idea that any of this could ever be all about me, and I won’t call you. I will put you in God’s hands, which are better than mine anyway.”

           “Good,” said Secowm as she reached around his waist with her strange alien flippers, with an oversized head barely reaching his ribcage as she hugged him tightly. “I love you, Joe Carr. Goodbye.”

           With that, she left and prepared to take a 24,000 mile long journey straight down an elevator tube to the surface of Trucowl 5, which amazingly was possible in only minutes. Trucowls had perfected force mitigation and antigravity long before the humans had developed the first horse saddle, and as amazing as this structure from the Capitol City was, it was ancient.

           Within a few minutes the access ramp was retracted, and Joe Carr was on the MCC with his First Officer in the Pilot’s Seat plotting a course for a fuel layover on Myrrh 1, and then home. With so few left in his Command Crew, there were a lot of musical chairs going on as people rotated here or there for rest - but never sleep. This would be the final voyage of LIBERTY 72 – unless something would change. Carr had very good instincts that it would.

* * *

LIBERTY 72, above the Southern Atlantic

           “I’ve always wanted to drop into Earth from the southeast,” said Carr from the Pilot Station.  “Sort of takes the monotony out of reentry. I’ll bet they haven’t seen that in a while. Cindy Hope, please get us a weather update for the landing strip,” ordered Carr as his new best friend and lover frowned at his tone but complied with his positional authority nonetheless.

           “Tuning it in on speaker,” Ferrando said from the Survey Station as Ranger Sanchez smiled at her reaction. They were simply exhausted – all of them. 

           “Encinitas Pier Landing Facility Approach, Advisory Romeo as of 2300Z. Surface winds from the southwest at 18 gusting at 27. High Density Traffic Region all vehicles be advised of recently erected un-tethered large object stationary and subject to lighting and signal malfunction at 27,500 feet 12 miles from coast, above western end of runway.”

           “Wow – the influence of Lisa Stewart,” said Ferrando. “She let Liberty Enterprises put Montana Station back up there.”

           “The persistence of Jonas Bu’Tan, you mean,” said Carr as he smiled.

           “Notice to Spacemen,” continued the automated broadcast, “tenant spacecraft have priority. Traffic pattern is left-turn from HAC flyover unless otherwise advised, based on approach. Contact Socal Flight Service Station least five minutes prior to Terminal Area Management Supersonic entry phase on 267.6 megahertz analog or digital or channel 15808C laser optical. Switch to 127.3 digital, 41.95 long-range analog or channel 28054F laser optical. Primary runway in use for arrivals is Runway Zero Niner. Exercise caution when approaching tethered object on final. Tacan is Six-Yankee. Pilot-Assisted Approaches available on request including closed-loop guidance controlled from Montana Station.”

           “Got it?” asked Ferrando as Carr plugged in all of the data to the Pilot Station as it was read by the automated speaker.

           “Got it.”

           “Anything else?”

           “Pitch black under us above us, and all around us, but we’re flying across Central America now,” said Carr, “and pretty soon we should encroach upon the sunrise of a sunset - this approach is just so much fun! Doing about Mach 18 at 225,000 feet. I guess now’s as good as time as any to check in. Go ahead, First Officer Captain, Ma’am.”

        “Okay. Anything else?” asked an irritated Ferrando.

        “Well, I’d like to get to know you just a little bit better first before I officially ask you to marry me.”

        Sanchez, who had been drinking from a cup at her station, laughed so spontaneously and so hard that her nasal and mouth passages created a new mix of caffine-saliva germ farms.

        Ferrando was not as amused as she was intrigued. “So. what did you have in mind, Captain Joe, sir?”

        “Have plans this weekend?”

        “Sleep.”

        “Let’s go paraskiing – it’s a lot of fun.”

        “Where?”

        “Colorado.”

        “I’ve never been there.”

        “We haven’t been a lot of places! That’s why we go there!”

        She smiled with anticipation of the life she already knew she was going to have with this wonderful man.

        “So where in Colorado do we meet?”

        “21,000 feet over Mount Elbert. That’s where we jump together out of the back of an aircraft, with only technologies and prayers to keep us alive as we Paraski down to the slopes - we'll pick a good one on the way down. We’ll meet up Saturday on a chartered flight – one way, and have reservations at the lodge ready for our arrival. It’ll all be smooth sailing until we hit the snow with the most graceful of touchdowns because of antigravity plates in the skis that allow us to come in on a steep but controlled glide. Then, when on the mountain, it sort of becomes more challenging, because there, we actually face bumps we’ll either miss … bumps in the trails and rocks – and either we’ll conquer those challenges, miss them, or simply fall and get back up - just like life itself.”

        “It sounds like a wonderful lesson for both of us. I'll bet you have waited some time to find someone to go Paraskiing with whose bones won't break. Worst you can do to me is break my heart. Okay then, you have a date – sir. I do love you so much, Joe Carr.”

        “And I love you too, Cindy Hope. Now if you don’t mind, please check in with Encinitas before someone shoots us down.”

* * *

Liberty Enterprises Encinitas Headquarters Base

           “General Kirby, are you there yet?”

           “Yes, Madame President. Sorry about the delay. As you might imagine we’re a little busy right now.”

           “About Tau Sag?”

           “Yes, Madame President. About Tau Sag. We are already implementing the order you gave us not even an hour ago, to evacuate all Wind Force Squadrons to Eta Sag. Of course, if you would like that to change, no one would be happier than I'll be. But I’ll need the next roll of the top security reliability checksum codes to authenticate the cancellation – as you know they can not be re-used because of security concerns.”

           “No, General, said Stewart. “That won’t be necessary. I just wanted to make sure there were no questions about my orders.”

           “There are plenty of questions,” said Kirby on the distant end of the transmission, “but we serve dutifully without question at your pleasure, Madame President, so our questions become irrelevant, don’t they?”

           “I know all of this must seem a little bizarre – as a lot of things seem to be since I’ve been back.”

           “That, Madame President, is the understatement of the 27^th Century. I don't know how long it will be before some hotshot Major is going to want to feel important enough to put his career on the line to leak this to the Broadcast News Nets.”

           “Trust me, General, no one is more mindful of what this will do to my reputation than me. For now, the best I can do is promise a private briefing with you and the Joint Chiefs at the Octagon in a few days. Then, you’ll understand my orders with clarity and without reservation. I thank you for following them with clarity and without reservation prior to understanding them. Charlie, just a few days. That is all we need. Carry on.” With that, Stewart smiled. Within only days, the unusual existence of two versions of her would come to an end, but unlike the other Lisa Stewart, at least this one knew the other one’s future – at least until this moment, and this one knew that evacuating Tau Sag would be the only choice that would allow for her survival, or Earth's. What would happen a week from now would be anyone’s guess.

        Twilight launches and landings were the best, Stewart told herself as she walked to hold Jonas Bu’Tan’s hand, just as Antonio DiNyro was holding Monique Rivers’ hand, Victor Martin was holding his wife’s hand, and Ed Jones and Yukiko Kogure were all but holding hands. Up to a hundred others were lined up at the side of the expected parking spot for the ship. The sun had already set locally but high in the sky, as brilliant as a star and much faster than the normal air traffic from the southwest appeared LIBERTY 72, apparently with an operating fin flap system following repairs based on the excellent geometry of the craft as it began its corkscrew to the runway on its last trip to Earth prior to being placed upon a pedestal as a monument at the base of this pier, just as LIBERTY 65 already was.

        “On at the 180,” said someone on the ground over a loudspeaker system available to the crowd. “On energy, and on glideslope. Three minutes from touchdown.”

        “She is just so absolutely beautiful,” said Victor Martin to Jonas Bu’Tan. “Are you sure we really want to scrap her out to DRMO and then make some sort of Wooly Mammoth museum piece out of her?”

        “Well, she did set out to do what we sent her to the Galactic Core to do,” said Bu’Tan. “And then some. The Stock Quote of Liberty Enterprises is now climbing so high so fast I don’t know how we’re ever going to come up with the money to pay Salt Lake City all the Capital Gains Taxes for our Stock gains - to say nothing of the taxes that LIBERTY 72 will draw your way as a much-visited museum piece, Lisa.”

        Only Bu'Tan could get away with the normal lack of protocol and decorum with Lisa Stewart. “You should probably move the ship off-planet before you turn it into a museum,” said Stewart. “Do you know how much money we lost in Salt Lake City when LIBERTY 95 was lost? We can’t lay claim to a single Spendero in death taxes. Is that really fair?”

        “How long will it take you to fix Salt Lake City, Lisa?” asked Bu’Tan.

        “Longer than I have left, Jonas. I'm your best friend here, so take or leave the advice I have for you. Salt Lake City will either get better, or it will get worse. Who knows yet. Both candidates for the Elections next year are pushing a change message.”

        “What will it change into? That is the question,” said Martin. “Okay, Jonas. Go ahead and land LIBERTY 72 here, but leave it up to volunteers to save her.”

        “What are you talking about?” asked Bu’Tan.

        “You know exactly what I am saying. A lot of us have some vacation time coming and no real missions out of Earth for … probably forever,” lamented Martin. “Let’s invest that capital that investors have given us – get LIBERTY 72 down to her birthplace. What happens after that will be up to the needs that come up, and so far LIBERTY 72 is two for two in meeting needs that no other ship could fulfill - both times with the fate of Earth in the balance.”

        “On at the 90,” said the voice over the loudspeaker. “Just  over one minute to touch-down.”

        Martin continued. “Come on, Jonas – you don’t really want LIBERTY 72 hanging around here reminding everyone that we haven’t been able to recreate old glories without her – at least not on Earth? What will the people think when they see that thing in a museum – that we’re a bunch of has-beens, and that we’re resting on laurels on a pedestal in some museum?”

        LIBERTY 72 was now to the west, still diving and now under the sunset. Various lights had been illuminated on the hull to make it more visible. “Encinitas Control, this is LIBERTY 72. On final, I have the runway-pier in sight and I verify clearance on approach under Montana Station.”

        “Sounds good, Captain Carr,” came the voice of a controller from the ground.

        “Vic .... why wait?” asked Bu’Tan.

        Debbie Hernandez-Martin used her grip with her husband’s hand to swing Victor Martin around to face her. “You’ll have to close Encinitas if you do that.”

        “I will,” said Bu’Tan as he turned to Admiral Martin and his wife.

        “Thirty seconds to touchdown,” said the controller. “Still seeing LIBERTY 72 on a steep glide towards an imaginary target one half mile short of the runway. The vehicle is now traveling under 200 miles per hour, slowed by the blunt shape of its lifting-body shape as it encounters the higher dynamic pressure caused by lower altitudes. The vehicle's Landing Pods are confirmed down and locked. The nose is now rising as LIBERTY 72 begins a flare maneuver so that the powerless craft will glide across the western threshold of the runway. All looks good.”

        “Montana Station too?” asked Victor Martin as he turned towards Bu’Tan.

        “The Jewel In The Sky – as we called her was cutting edge technology in 2257 when we first launched it to demonstrate our edge. Look at it now … yes, we need to be about the future – even by revamping LIBERTY 72 to make her new … cutting edge … state of the art.” Bu’Tan then started to walk to where he could communicate directly with the Mission Control Center.

        “Main Gear Touchdown,” confirmed the controller as Bu’Tan removed the headset from his ears.

        “Joe, this is Jonas Bu’Tan. B-I-N-G-O - it's not a waive-off ... B-I-N-G-O ... to construction site. Confirm.”

        “I see people up there,” came the voice of Carr as the nose gear touched down. “I’ll have to use a vertical blastoff from here to keep you from getting blown into the water. Confirmed. B-I-N-G-O to construction site.”

        The Vapor Thrusters at the bottom of the ship fired even as the ship rolled at more than a hundred miles an hour towards the pedestrians near the eastern end of the pier. LIBERTY 72 was well clear far before even getting halfway down the runway. Once at a safe altitude, the LSE Pods fired at a relatively low setting to send the ship directly into the sky and back into the sunset as Carr performed an ascending barrel roll, then placing the nose down for a new heading past Hawaii for a late-afternoon ocean landing above a base this ship had not visited since it was first launched in April, 2668. Carr knew exactly what Bu'Tan had done - he had thrown in the towel for all of his North American operations so that LIBERTY 72 would fly again after an expensive upgrade, as opposed to the original insider plan to retire LIBERTY 72 as a museum-piece. And, knowing Bu'Tan's developing relationship with Lisa Stewart, it was probably her idea as she was now starting to see what was good for Bu'Tan's company, and no good could come from having his operation continue to be taxed and harassed by bureaucrats in Salt Lake City who couldn't design or fly a paper airplane. 

           Carr knew exactly what would happen next – the crew would leave the ship aboard the four Large Landing Shuttles and a construction crew would arrive simultaneously in the overnight hours to sink the ship from its location over the Marcus-Necker Ridge in the pacific to dock it with the dormant Undersea Base where LIBERTY 72 had been built in secrecy, both from aliens and from the world’s governments. The ship would be reactivated for a major refit of this badly damaged ship, Carr now knew, and it would not be merely retired to a museum.

           He was privately overjoyed that new life had been breathed into her – perhaps in two or three years he would be back, as the Commanding Officer. Yet, the role of Commanding Officer of LIBERTY 72 – once thought to be the pinnacle of his life, was no longer as important to him as he had originally thought.

           So in the meantime, he and most of the rest of his crew would go find new jobs. LIBERTY 72 was nothing but a house to him now – a machine that anyone with any competence could command.

           But, he now knew, Cynthia Esperanza Carr – she would be with him for the rest of their lives, and he could leave LIBERTY 72 - but he would never leave Cindy Hope.

* * *

THE END - LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK