"That dropship looks like a plane," Apollonia said.

"It is a spaceplane," Y told her. "Not a dropship."

She paused for a moment, still studying the vehicle through the screen. "I'm going to keep calling it a dropship."

"They are fundamentally different devices," Y said. "But you may call it what you wish."

"Damn straight," she muttered. "Dropping into atmo like a marine from space . . ."

"The term is espatier," Y noted. "'Space Marine' is a dated term." He paused; "By which I mean that it is fake and lame."

Apollonia laughed. "I didn't know you were privy to what's hip."

"I must keep it on the down low, or else it would ruin my reputation," Y replied.

A computer voice spoke from overhead.

"Boarding for Landing Party 2 may now commence."

"That is our party," Y said. "I like to believe that it is the best party, as well."

A 'snerk' sound came out of Apollonia as they queued up to board.

The first trip down had been the most essential personnel for Outpost Alexa, along with their security detail. There would be a third shuttle of scientific equipment, but otherwise that was it. sixty-odd people on an ocean rig for . . . well, months.

"Hey, Y, is it true that the security team went down on the first shuttle to make sure that giant sea pigs didn't crawl up and take it over?" she asked.

"I have not heard that rumor," Y said. "Though I can tell you with certainty that it is unlikely. The pylons are too difficult for the sea pigs to climb."

"Too bad, they sound cute. I wanna ride one."

Stepping through the airlock, Apollonia followed the prompts on her tablet to her seat. Y did not follow, but his voice came through her ear bud.

"I am, technically, going to remain on the Craton, but I will have my presence with you during your descent."

The straps tightened around Apollonia on their own, and she felt her heart beat faster in excitement.

She was going down to an alien planet!

"I saw in your cargo manifest that you brought a 'swimsuit'," Y said in her ear.

". . . why are you looking in my cargo, Y?" she asked.

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

"I peruse all relevant data for those under my command. I hope you do not mind, but I added two more sets of uniforms to your baggage, to make sure you have enough."

"Did you leave my swimsuit, though?"

"I did, though I do not believe you will get a chance to go swimming. Or ride giant sea pigs, though I notice you did not even bother to pack a saddle."

She chuckled again. "Well, I still have a hope of going swimming. A girl can dream, right?"

"You would have to hope not to be eaten. There are very large marine predators on Ko, and they are not as easily defended against by drones. All personnel are banned from close proximity to the ocean."

"Shit, really? Guess I won't need the swimsuit. But why will I even need the uniforms? Won't we be wearing coolsuits?"

"Yes, but they are in fact skin-tight. Some say they seem almost inappropriate to be worn alone, and so uniforms are typically worn over them."

". . . oh, wow," she said. "Yeah, I'm glad you sent me more uniforms, I don't need people seeing how fat my ass is getting."

"Technically, you are still underweight, Nor. Though not as much as when you first joined the Craton."

There was a loud clacking followed by a thump, and she jumped in her seat.

"The airlock has sealed," Y said. "You are about to begin your descent!"

"Great," she muttered. The excitement in her stomach had turned to butterflies. "Ko has a pretty thick atmosphere, doesn't it?"

"Yes, at sea level it is approximately 1.6 times Earth standard pressure. But do not worry, that is within tolerable limits for breathing."

It wasn't that . . . it was more the thought that the dropship was going to slam into that atmosphere at high speeds. Sure, human ships had been doing it for like a thousand years - air braking was just such a nice and convenient way to shed speed - but she'd also spent far too much time watching compilations of ships having something go wrong and explode when doing such a drop.

Those were all some random spacer's poorly-maintained ship, she told herself. Not some super fantastic Union ship from one of her best vessels.

But of course, even with the Sapient Union's best ships, there was always a chance of a catastrophic failure.

"We are preparing for atmospheric entry," a pleasant computer voice called. "In approximately twenty minutes. If you are not already strapped into your re-entry chair, please do so now."

A few officers had been milling about, talking to each other and simply gripping hand holds as the dropship had maneuvered away from the Craton.

Now they took their seats, a young officer sitting next to her, offering a pleasant smile.

She smiled back. He was rather good looking.

But he was probably fifty or something, she thought. He didn't look that much older than . . . well, she had no idea, really. She had been wrong about her own age until recently. He was probably older than her actual age of 22, which was younger than the 28 she had thought she'd been.

"Specialist Nor, right?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, feeling oddly happy that he knew her name. "But, uh, sorry, I don't know you."

"That's understandable, I'm just a Lieutenant. Alisher Rasulov," he said, offering a hand.

She took it, and hated that her grip felt so slack in his hand.

"Ah, is that Lt. Rasulov?" Y asked. "I recommended him for this mission, as he displays excellent leadership qualities-"

"Shush!" she snapped. "Stop telling me stuff!"

Rasulov blinked. She'd been looking in his direction when she'd said that.

"Ah, talking to a friend on the Craton," she said nervously.

Rasulov nodded, though she thought he still looked a little concerned.

Her humiliation was forgotten as the ship began to shake violently. Her knuckles turned white gripping onto her armrest.

"Intense shaking is a normal part of re-entry," Y's voice spoke. It crackled with static.

"Am I losing you?" she asked nervously, muttering so Rasulov wouldn't hear.

"Yes, I am afraid there will be a window of several minutes when the plasma shroud around the spaceplane - pardon me, dropship - will become intense enough to prevent my messages from reaching you. While the ship will use other means to communicate in that time, the bandwidth is somewhat limited, and I will likely be silent. Do not be concerned; this is normal."

"Swell."

"I know you do not mean that, Nor, but it is truly quite safe. You are more likely to be killed by flying space debris in transit than in entry through an atmosphere!"

"That's really swell."

Y paused. "We are losing communications in a moment."

There was a crackle, then he was gone.

The ship continued to shake, and she noticed - oddly taking comfort in it - that Rasulov was also holding on with white knuckles.

"These re-entries," he said, smiling at her.

She smiled back. "Makes me miss the space elevator around Earth."

The man nodded, his jaw setting.

The cabin seemed to be getting warmer, but then just as it started to get uncomfortable, the rattling stopped.

"We have successfully passed through the upper atmosphere," the computer voice said.

"Ah, hello, Nor!" Y said in her ear just a moment after. "You have made it, as I predicted!"

She forced herself to let go of the armrest.

"That wasn't so bad," she said, not quite feeling it yet.

"I am glad to hear you say that, even if you are lying," Y said. "One day you may believe it."

She scowled. How the hell did he know?

"So will you have to go soon?" she asked.

"Not yet. But do not worry, you will find Dr. Zyzus a fair and knowledgeable teacher."

"I still wish I was learning from you," she muttered.

"It is good to have multiple teachers," Y told her. "It gives you perspective."

She still was not very happy about this part. Nervous, even. But it was still all worth it.

"We will be landing in three minutes," the AI voice said. "Prepare for vertical descent."

Vertical descent? Would they just be dropping out of the air or something?

She gripped her seat again nervously.