He peeled off his flight suit, exposing his skin to the cool recycled air of his quarters. He tossed the suit on the bed, then stepped into his quarters' spartan sanitation room. Ten hours in that flight suit made him smell like the inside of a biomass reclamation unit. Food could wait.

He let the sanitation mist bead up on him for a while, then vigorously rubbed cleansing gel on his skin. Even though these water-saving wash stations worked, they never really satisfied him, like bathing in real water or going for a swim.

Fifteen minutes—a whole day in only fifteen minutes?

He ran the memory through his mind again. Were all dreams this way, separate from a world awake? Whole other lives that simply vanished like fog in the morning? Maybe the only difference this time was that he remembered everything with clarity.

Still towelling himself dry, he placed his flight suit into the auto-cleanser. He tossed the towel on a chair, then selected a warm gray shirt and a comfortable pair of multi-pocketed khaki pants.

He walked over to the room's single modest viewport while pulling his tunic on. Charles followed him, her tail languidly moving into little curves and question marks. She easily jumped the meter or so up to the viewport's bottom sill, then stood there looking at him through half-closed predatory eyes.

His attention was drawn to flickers in the distance as cutting torches meticulously sliced the derelict station apart, feeding a stream of gophers fading into the distance as they carried valuable scrap back to the freighter.

“What do you dream about, Charles?” He stroked the cat's head, inciting a gentle purr from her as she arched her back and walked around on the viewport sill. “I'm going to the mess hall for something to eat.”

Charles flicked her tail, then sat down facing the window and watched while the salvage effort continued.

She was still sitting on the viewport sill, thinking her cat thoughts when John left his quarters.

Walking down the well-worn corridor, John thought about how good it had felt to fly again—really fly, not just drive a bucket with arms. It was so real. I never realized how much I miss flying till now. Last time I piloted an atmo ship was for the UED air force, running cargo. Maybe I should look for new work... Something with atmo flight.

This was the last salvage operation the Last Chance was scheduled to do before making the long trip back to Terra Prime, so he had some time to think about his next step.

His thoughts were interrupted when he entered the mess hall through the door to his left. Smells bombarded him, firing signals right past his brain into his stomach. People sat in small groups scattered around the room.

Not too crowded tonight, at least.

He approached the serving counter and was handed tonight's meal. It's not too bad, John thought as he poked a quivering blob on his plate. Well, it could be worse. At least the mystery mush looks appetizing this time. He mentally gagged as he remembered the weird, translucent abomination that was last night's meal. Jelly shouldn’t have bits of meat floating in it.

John walked over to an empty table and sat down. Taking a risk, he poked the red quivering stuff and took a small bit. Hey, not bad. Spicy, but the texture sorta reminds me of cleansing gel.

Partway through his next bite, he heard someone deposit a plate in front of him.

“Nice bonus you land us.”

John’s smile froze as he looked over at his uninvited dining guest. She looked exactly like that angry woman from his dream, the one outside the mag-lift at the Space Nexus. He stared at her for a moment, his jaw working while he struggled to find something to say.

She considered him with a guarded expression. “You are full of words today, Romeo.”

“What's your name?”

“Kit. So how did you know reactor was still running?”

“I was just being thorough.”

"Yeah, sure, fly-boy always avoid risk,” she said giving him a sardonic grin. “I remember you promise me a drink.”

“Seems like you should be buying me a drink instead.” John looked at her in amusement. “But I'll humor you this time since I'm such a nice guy.” He got up to purchase some synthetic ale for Kit and himself from the bar.

Against all expectations, neither the ale nor the company were terrible. They speculated on the mystery of “project dark” and spoke about corporate politics until it was late and everyone else had left the mess hall. Kit, as John learned, was from Beta Currus. Where, she had worked for the Hiroki Combine for a few years as a mechanic, keeping their merchant fleets running.

John emptied his glass, then placed it on the table. “Do you know anything about power level sensors for atmospheric transports like the T-11?”

She already had two empty glasses in front of her. “T-11 is new model designed by DuroTech, they are supposed to have triple redundancies for critical system, like power sensor.”

“Have they ever failed before?”

Kit thought for moment. “I only hear about one case when T-11 crash on reentry. Was blamed on pilot error not equipment.” A frown crossed her face. “Nothing left after crash, just smoking crater. How they know it was pilot error if nothing left but ash?”

“Not even a final transmission?”

She shook her head. “Nothing, just WHAM!” She smacked her right fist into the palm of her left hand.

Back in his quarters the next day, John flopped onto his bed. He only managed to peel half of his flight suit off. Charles jumped up to her favorite spot on the viewport sill, then looked back at him with a soft trill. This last shift had been grueling.

One break. At least there was that. He glanced at the time. Twelve hours in a flying bucket is a lot.

He lay on his back, basking in the feeling of freedom while trying to gather enough energy to peel the rest of his suit off. He heaved himself upright, then wriggled the rest of the way out of his flight suit and headed for the sanitation room.

The Last Chance would be jumping to FTL in a few hours, and it would take at least two weeks with the freighter’s 2.8k drives to cover the sixteen parsecs of space separating them from Terra Prime. He’d already spoken to Captain Hansen about leaving once they reached Earth. Captain Hansen hadn’t been very happy about it, but John insisted, so he signed John’s papers.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Sanitation mist beaded up on John's exposed skin. It's going to be nice to see Terra Prime again.

After washing up, John lay in bed, scanning through news articles from various sources. Earlier that day, an FTL-comm drone had arrived with fresh data for everyone serving onboard the Last Chance, so John was catching up on various news stories he was following. The further away from Terra Prime you were, the longer it generally took news to reach you. He spent several minutes reading an amazing story about Rick Thorson, a famous daredevil, and his team performing orbital jumps in modified Iso-Suits. He continued scanning through stories, looking for anything flight-related. An odd political article titled “Democracy Under Fire” caught his attention. Reading the story, John fought to stay focused. His mind threatened to untether itself because he already knew what this article contained. He pressed the play button.

GNN reporter: Tell us what happened to warrant such a substantial increase in your personal security.

The camera shifted to an animated individual surrounded by bodyguards.

Senate Member Giovani Daniels: I told you vultures before. The Jeffires family tried to kill me! They don't want me to tell anyone what I know, but they failed, and now there will be severe consequences!

The feed quickly cut off the irate senate member's monologue and switched to a panel of commentators.

They spoke about the growing division in the Senate. One commentator suggested that Daniels was politicizing the attempt on his life to further his own militant nationalist ideologies under the banner of a group calling themselves the People’s Federation of Earth.

John stared at the video feed with a hollow feeling in his stomach. The timestamp for this article placed its publication at three weeks ago. With how slow drone-comms were this far away from Terra Prime, this news was basically fresh. There is no way he could have seen this anywhere else.

So I'm just going nuts then?

Every rational instinct told him it wasn’t possible, but just a simple coincidence wasn't enough to explain what had just happened. He quickly setup an AI data miner to look through Terra Prime’s records and retrieve information related to precognition, especially scientific articles, that might help him explain what was going on. He hoped he’d be able to get another drone-comms update at their next resupply stopover. What kind of sane person thinks they can predict the future?

_

An ominous peel of thunder rolled across the sky as John stepped out onto the rain-drenched roads of Vancouver on Terra Prime. He stood in the downpour, savoring the feeling of fresh, cool water running down his face. Real water in extravagant abundance, not just stingy sanitation mist pretending to be wet. He took a deep breath of real living air that still had plans, not that hopeless canned recycled air onboard the Last Chance.

After a few cleansing moments in the rain, he used his uplink to summon a public transportation taxi. It only took five or ten minutes for the automated taxi to arrive and roll to a stop on the road in front of him. Unfortunately, John was soaked by then, but it was a balmy mid-March day on the coast, so he wasn't cold.

“Wait! Hold up Romeo!” Kit yelled as she jogged towards him. She was holding something over her head, trying to ward off the rain while it pattered out its happy, mellifluous rhythm. “You looking for good place to eat?”

“I was thinking of it. I don’t feel like being inside right now.”

“I’ll go with you. You own me a drink.”

“Really? I wasn’t aware of that.” He held the taxi’s door open for Kit to step in, then followed her and seated himself.

The vehicle moved off, merging seamlessly with some light afternoon traffic. “You owe me drink for showing you the best bar in town.”

They passed through Stanley Park on their way to West Vancouver, eventually pulling into a taxi park next to a clean unassuming building with an extensive outdoor patio. John could already smell the food.

She wasn’t wrong. This is probably the best place to eat in Vancouver. He scanned the packed outdoor patio. Problem is, everyone on Terra Prime seems to know her secret too.

They found an empty table outside, since the rain had stopped.

“What will you do now?” Kit asked, looking at John.

“I was thinking of finishing this salad.” Half hiding a smirk, he stabbed his fork into a pile of greens.

Kit rolled her eyes. “What you doing after? If you say finish drink, I make you into salad!”

“I thought I would walk down to the beach and watch the stars for a bit.” He grabbed the small bottle of salad dressing from their table’s condiment selection. “I’m still not sure what I’ll end up doing, but I know I want to fly, not just drive some glorified bolt cutter. Are you staying with the Last Chance?"

“Yes. The Chance is stopping by Currus system before next salvage run. I want to visit my family there.” Kit replied while she enthusiastically sawed her huge steak in half.

Later that night, the summer storm had moved on, leaving the sky clear and the stars bright. John could see the milky way floating like vapor through the night sky. He let his thoughts drift as he gazed at the endless expanse above him. Those stars were no less beautiful, even after having seen many of them up close. There was something special about stargazing from the ground, especially accompanied by the sound of ocean waves murmuring in the dark. He looked back down at the job listings he was working through. Scrolling to the next page of results, he saw a listing for his former position onboard the Last Chance. Several listings for shuttle pilots here on Terra Prime looked interesting. He froze halfway through moving to the next page of results. A listing by the Galactic Institute for Science and Technology (or just the Institute for short) seemed interesting. They were looking for a jumper pilot and offering a good salary, but wouldn’t say much about the job’s location, just that it was on a distant colony world. What had ice water running down John’s back was the name of the chartered freighter they would be taking to this distant colony. He hadn’t noticed it at first, thinking the job looked interesting enough to come back to later. Now he was staring at the name Miss Serendipity, as both elation and trepidation wrestled with each other in his mind. Still staring at the listing, he mechanically pressed the apply icon. For a moment, he watched the display as if it were coiling around his arm, readying itself to strike. He shook his head and pocketed his uplink.

It's a coincidence. Man, I'm turning into one of those nuts who sees connections everywhere.

After several minutes lost in thought, he heard a message tone from his uplink. It was the Institute, and they wanted an interview in person at his convenience. The message had a Holo-Cast address attached to it.

_

It wasn’t hard to find a Holo-Cast room. They were expensive, so John usually avoided using the Holo-Cast network when possible. This call had already been paid for, although he hadn’t known this until after walking into a local Holo-Cast branch and speaking with a receptionist.

He stepped into a hemispherical room covered with glossy white and gray hexagonal tiles. There was a single chair positioned at the center of the ten-meter-wide space. He sat in the chair, and immediately the room was plunged into complete darkness, then light blurred and swirled around for a fractional second, quickly resolving itself into the vision of an office with a wall-sized window directly in front of John, about twelve meters away. The panoramic window showcased snow-capped mountains under a bright noonday sun.

"Hello, Captain Varen. My name is Isaiah, or if you prefer honorary titles, Director.” A figure apparated, seated behind a desk in front of John.

Isaiah had a resonant voice, but John was having trouble making out his features.

“I’m interested in a job you listed on the public index.”

“Indeed! And it would seem that you are more than qualified, having served in the UED air force as a jumper pilot, no less. Then in several less interesting civilian posts culminating with an illustrious career aboard the Last Chance.”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it. Some people actually like driving glorified wire cutters.”

Isaiah laughed. “Well said, Captain Varen! You must forgive me. I prefer to personally assess applicants before I invest in them.” Isaiah moved something on his desk. “I have arranged transport for you to join us on our little adventure. It will take two weeks for you to reach us, so pack accordingly. You will be joining us, I assume?”

“Where will I be going?”

Isaiah tilted his head to the side slightly. "I'll take that as a yes?”

John just crossed his arms as he gave Isaiah a blank expression.

“Be ready in three hours, Captain. One of my associates will pick you up from the North Cove hotel, don’t be late. Oh, before I forget, no pets, Captain, even cats. I’m sorry.”

John took a breath to reply, but before he could say anything, the room exploded into millions of swirling points of light that faded away like embers to reveal glossy white and gray tiles. He stared at the wall for a few minutes. John was sure this Isaiah was on Terra Prime since there was no way to have a two-way conversation over the vast distance between systems.

I'm sure Isaiah is just a pseudonym. Why hide your identity? The fact that this mystery man seemed to know so much about him made John a little uneasy. Then again, most corporations played their cards close to the chest; too many sharks in the water.

He got up to leave the Holo-Net building. Once outside, he hailed another taxi to take him back to his room at the North Cove hotel.