laughed once more, and Reggie was sure he’d found his favorite sound in all the world.
FEBRUARY 5,-28 LD
2097 CE
… Convoy Seven has been assigned the mission designated Noumenon, the express purpose of which is to visit the star LQ Pyx, determine the cause of its variable output, conduct in-depth proximity research for two decades, and return home to educate earthbound researchers with regard to its origin, scientific significance, and viability as a resource …
The sweet smell of buttercream frosting mixed with the pungent scent of black coffee. Under the fluorescent lights of the campus meeting hall, toasts were made and welcomes were given. It was supposed to be a party—the first time all of Reggie’s team members were together in the same place—but he wanted nothing more than to get down to business.
His team consisted of a baker’s dozen head thinkers, each in charge of a subteam—people Reggie had never counted on meeting—who would really make the work come together.
Now his team leaders were all here, in person. They represented five countries, and two thirds of them were still jetlagged. They only had a few short days together before everyone was expected back at their respective posts and day jobs, so a party—even one as casual as this—felt like an unnecessary drain on their scant resources.
“Breathe, my boy. Relax. Give them all a chance to unwind before you throw new loads on their backs,” said Dr. McCloud. He’d retired after convincing the dean to hire Reggie, but had returned to share in this meeting of the minds.
“But we don’t have much time. And teleconferencing is a bitch.”
“Oh, I know, I know.” A sly grin crossed McCloud’s lips, an expression akin to one Reggie had seen many times during his graduate work.
“What?” he asked cautiously. “That look used to mean all-nighters.”
“No, no. I’m—you’re going to make an old fool say it, aren’t you?”
“Say what?”
“That I’m proud of you, Reggie. You’re so sure, so focused. You’ve gained so much confidence since that day I soiled your pants for you.”
“Some people need a slap in the face—apparently I needed a lap full of beer.”
“I don’t think that little incident is what did it.”
“Then what?”
McCloud threw out his arms toward a comely Greek woman headed their way. “Confidence, thy name is Abigail Marinos.”
“Leonard.” She smiled warmly and accepted his hug. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
“What, and miss our boy in action? Not in the cards. He won’t shake me till I’m a stiff.”
She laughed. “I hope not. I’ll be right back, Reggie. I have to go check on a group of students.”
“Afraid they’ll start tearing out pages for paper airplane material?” McCloud asked, clearly delighted by the idea.
“More afraid they’re all chatting on their implants instead of focusing on the assigned chapters. I swear—they adore pontificating about how much they love books, but most of them haven’t read squat.”
McCloud slapped Reggie on the back. “Knew plenty of those in my day.”
“What? I was a great student!”
McCloud laughed. Abigail leaned in and kissed Reggie. “Well, I know you’re great,” she said, then promptly left the room.
“Have you proposed to her yet? I’m not getting any younger, and I’d like to dance with her at your wedding before I die. Consider it a last request.”
Reggie patted McCloud’s tweed-covered shoulder. “Oh, you’ll be around for plenty more than that. She and I have talked about it—getting married. For a long time I was afraid to broach the subject.”
“Why was that?”
Reggie gestured around.
“Because of the project? I’ve heard a lot of lame excuses for a man keeping his emotions all knotted up in his bowels—”
With a light touch on the arm, Reggie interrupted him. “Because of the possibility. You know, that I might …”
“That they might put you onboard.”
“Exactly.”
Laughter erupted in a corner of the room, pulling them from that somber thought, and they both looked over to see Donald Matheson—the mission expert on social systems—doing a drunken chicken dance on one of the flimsy folding tables. His blue shirttails dangled freely from his trousers, and he made a strange sort of beak-like gesture around his overtly-large and very Roman nose.
“He’s going to hurt himself,” Reggie mumbled, moving in the direction of the ruckus.
McCloud stopped him. “You reap what you sow. Adults are the same as children—let them touch the stove once and they won’t touch it again. You were explaining why you haven’t driven off the cliff of marital bliss just yet.” Reggie tried, halfheartedly, to pull away, but the professor’s grip was firm. “Someone will catch him if he falls, Reggie. Damn it, I don’t get to see you that often these days, Straifer. Speak.”
Reggie shifted restlessly on his toes and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I asked years ago if she could come. The consortium made it clear that no nonessential personnel would be allowed. If I were to go, she couldn’t.” McCloud nodded; Reggie continued. “And it’s not like I’d be a soldier going off to war, with some slim chance of returning. It would be the end.”
“So, what was your plan? To break up? ‘Nice knowing you, kid, but duty calls’?”
McCloud tried to catch his eye, but Reggie avoided the stare. “Something like that. Hell, most relationships can’t survive being separated by state lines. You think one could stand up against AUs of disconnection with no chance of reunion?”
“So you didn’t talk about marriage because you were afraid of making a commitment to a relationship that might become intangible.”
“Right. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us. Especially her. She’d be here, going about life just the same, but without me. Without someone. I didn’t want to rob her of the chance to have a real partner, you know? To be bound and loyal to a ghost, when there are so many flesh-and-blood possibilities …”
“But now you’ve talked about it. What changed? You decided to stay?”
Reggie smiled. “The decision was made for me. The consortium knows how it wants to populate the convoys, and I’m not on the list.”
“Ah. So now you’ll finally pop the question.”
“Yeah. And I know she’ll say yes. I just have to find the right ring and the right time.”
“Oh, don’t give me that. Now that you’ve made your choice, the right time is always now. After all, I’m not the only one that time’s pushing along. If you want to get her pregnant you’ll have to do it soon.”
Reggie frowned—he was amused, but Heaven forbid McCloud know that. “You’re toeing the line there, professor.”
“I’m not anyone’s professor anymore. Just some old blowhard tossing his BS at a wall, hoping some will stick. Let’s grab some of that cake, get a good sugar-high going, and talk to some of your colleagues here, eh? I know you’re champing at the bit. And look, Mr. Matheson is still with us—all in one piece.”