Two days.

So far two days had passed since leaving the remains of Benedicci Station. The Nebula Ghost had been making a pit stop at Phaderen, and had permission to continue on her route after the evacuation.

Masterman Jones and myself were unwitting passengers on a freighter headed halfway across the Milky Way.

Did that make us stowaways? It certainly wasn't intentional.

Either way, I had to get in touch with Gra'am and let her know that her grandson wasn't going to be taking that visit to her retirement habitat anytime soon.

Jones was enjoying himself, and I freely admit I resented his carefree attitude toward this whole misadventure.

He was the one who got us into this mess, wasn't he? Him and his damned misaimed heroics.

Regardless, here I was, and that was that.

I was attempting to nap on my cot when Dru walked into our little compartment. She was the ship's mechanic, and not that unattractive. Thankfully, no one was in the mood for romance on this little voyage.

"You asleep, Smith?" Her voice was a touch husky, like she had a chronically sore throat on the verge of recovering.

I sighed. "Nope. I woke up about three hours ago and just haven't gotten out of bed."

She huffed a bit, crossed her arms.

"Oughter to put you to work then, 'ey? Get you nice an' tired to put you out like a light. Upper level heads could use a scrubbing."

"I think I'll pass for now, thanks."

Dru chuckled, and nodded at Jones, who was busy with push-ups across the room. "Cute, he thinks I'm making a suggestion."

Jones finished his set and jumped to his feet. We were still accelerating, so we had the illusion of gravity for a while.

"If you need someone to get those done for you, I can do it. I've been getting bored as it is."

Dru uncrossed her arms, popped her knuckles. "That's not the point, but, if yer really up to it, I guess I can't stop yer."

Jones smiled and bounced off. Where he got his energy, I have no idea. Maybe he absorbed cosmic rays.

Now it was two of us. I sat up, since I felt a conversation coming on.

"You been alright?"

I cracked my neck. Cots weren't the most comfortable things to sleep on, but they beat alloy floors.

"All things considered? I suppose so. I still need to get in touch with my gra'am, tell her what's happening."

Dru sniffed and shuffled awkwardly in place. "Y'aren't lookin' to, uh, talk about anythin', are you?"

I decided to lie back down, tried to fluff the blanket into something more comfortable. "Nah, I'll be fine. Once we get to Leo Prime, I'll figure out how to get back to Phaderen. Tickets will be expensive, but, what's money, after all?"

"A pain in th' ass to get enough of," Dru snorted. Her shoulders relaxed; I got the feeling the insinuation of being receptive to talking and emotion dumping was mostly a complimentary act rather than the genuine article. And that was fine with me.

"That's pretty true," I said. "Took me forever to save up for those damned shuttle tickets. You'd think it wouldn't be a long or difficult trip if they call it a 'jaunt,' right?"

Dru laughed, which sounded more like a series of hoarse coughing. "You haven't e'en seen a real Jaunt yet, Smithy. Another two hours, though! Then you'll know!"

That didn't bode well, but I tried to keep my good humor.

"Looking forward to it, Dru. Thanks for stopping by. Uhm, there anything else that needs doing?"

Dru, already halfway out the hatch, stopped and turned around. "No, we're good on most e'rything. You can go back to sleep if you want."

I crossed my arms over my eyes. Sleeping with a light on wasn't hard, once you got used to it. "Sounds good to me. I'll just consider this part of my vacation, I guess."

All laid out on a cot like this, the only thing I needed to make this a tropical getaway was some sand. And sunscreen. And the sea I suppose. Okay, so a lot of things were lacking. I could manage.

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, an announcement was being announced over the ship's loudspeaker. Those things were getting tiring, honestly, though they had their uses. Like now.

"ALL HANDS, LOCK DOWN AND STRAP IN. PREPARE FOR JAUNT IN FIVE."

I folded up my cot and gathered my blanket and headed for the bridge. Two hours sure went fast, and so did five minutes when you had to find a place to hunker down.

Having never actually take a Jaunt with a capital J before, I didn't really know what to expect. But when the captain says to strap in, well, you do what you're told.

The bridge wasn't that far of a walk, even having to navigate the numerous corridors, which were starting to become familiar. I knocked on the hatch when I got there, and opened it.

"Smith's here," Dru said. She was sitting in one of the auxiliary seats near the back of the compartment. An older man with salty grey hair grunted. I recognized him as Jerimiah, the cook. He sat a bit more forward, but still in the spare seats.

"G'wan and find a spot," he rumbled in my direction, buckling up as he spoke. "Nearer the back's best."

"Aw, don't be rude," said a younger man next to him, who was previously Grey Cap Two but now Cameron. Grey Cap One, currently Ethaniel, squeezed in through the hatch behind me. Frank looked like he was dozing off in his own corner.

"Everyone in, yet?"

"Still missing Masterman," Cameron said. He was already strapped in and had his seat leaned back a bit. Probably he would have to put it upright before the Jaunt, but I wasn't sure. Jerimiah grunted at me again.

"Seen 'im?"

"Haven't," I said, tempted to grunt as well. I refrained. These were a rough bunch, but not uncivilized. I walked over to an upright chair, chose one that was riveted to the wall—bulkhead. Whatever they called them. "How long now?"

"Two minutes!" Cameron announced, gleefully. I could see his legs bouncing in place from my spot. I prayed that this was a sign that nothing to fear from the upcoming ordeal—but I tugged my restraints tight, anyway.

"Better send out another MC," Ethaniel suggested, and sat himself down.

"Just so long's he's not finding another bomb to disarm," I mumbled, and caught a confused glance from Dru. I waved, trying to dismiss her attention. "It's a long story."

One I'd prefer not to have to go over again. Thankfully, the hatch squeaked open, and Jones finally poked his head inside.

"Not late to the party, am I?"

"Almost," Jerimiah gruffed. No one on this ship merely 'said' anything. "Grab a seat and sit tight."

"Aye aye, Chef!" Jones vaulted over the second to last row and found a place almost right in front of me, and behind Jerimiah and Cameron. As he strapped himself in, he turned his head and gave me a sidelong wink.

"Ready for this?"

"How ready does one need to be?" I wondered aloud.

Jones just smiled.

"It'll be fun!"

I didn't like the sound of that.

From the front of the compartment, by a long bay of blinking lights and switches and buttons and displays and miscellaneous other gear I couldn't identify, a tall, swarthy man raised one arm.

"Quartermaster! All gear stowed smartly?"

"All gear stowed smartly, Captain!" Ethaniel shouted. It hurt my ears a little; I wasn't used to him talking, let alone being loud about it.

"Very well," Captain continued, arm lowered. "Yeoman! All hands locked down and strapped in?"

"Captain, all hands locked down and strapped in!" bellowed Cameron.

"Very well," the Captain said. "Navigator! Set course for two million kilometers from Leo Prime orbit! Prepare to Jaunt in one minute."

"Set course two million kilos Leo Prime or, aye!" the navigator, whose name I was told was Seth but hadn't actually met yet, replied. "Forty seconds to Jaunt!"

"Very well," Captain said. I felt a queer churning in my gut, and was glad I'd chosen to take a nap beforehand instead of snacking on something. Probably just nerves, but everyone seemed to be making such a big deal about this Jaunt that I couldn't help it. I mean, the theory seemed simple enough, even if it took some impressive technologies to pull it off…

"I don't actually have a reason to be nervous, do I?" I asked Jones, but Dru overheard me.

"It's not that bad," she told me, doing a gesture that would normally be a shrug if she wasn't secured tightly to her seat at least six different ways. I gulped, in spite of myself.

"Alright, thanks," I said, knuckles turning white as I gripped my chest straps.

"Ten seconds to Jaunt! Five!"

I tensed.

"Three! Two! One! Jaunt!"

And then I was glad these seats had so many fasteners.

The ship lunged forward, as if something massive had just slammed into her aft end. My head snapped back into the headrest, which at the moment was trying its best to cushion me. Lungs smashed flat against the back of my ribcage, blood collected at the back of my head and behind my elbows, and then—

Everything was normal.

No more ridiculous gee forces. No more being smashed into the back of my seat. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to settle myself down.

Jones and Cameron were both laughing and going on like space hyenas. Had they sat next to each other, I'm sure they'd try to high five.

"How was that for a Jaunt!"

"I dunno, Cam, I've had longer."

"That's what she said!"

Dru and Jerimiah let loose long, flappy sighs and began to unstrap themselves. Frank, who for all I knew had been sleeping through the entire thing, finally stirred, but remained seated and buckled in.

"Orbit confirmed two mil kilo from Leo Prime or, Captain."

"Thank you, Navigator," the Captain said, and let out a long breath. "Never gets any easier, does it?"

"No, sir, it does not."

"Unless you're like chucklehead here," Jerimiah grumbled as he stood, stretched. He nodded toward Cameron. "From being born on Janus, you always say?"

Cameron was already up and bouncing out of his seat. "Sure is! Six gees is nothing when you grew up in four!"

I caught Jones' eye as we were both unfastening things. "So, what's your excuse?"

He undid everything first, stood up. "It's just a rush," he said, a big grin splitting his face. "I mean, it's hyperspace! How cool is that?"

"Very," Cameron offered as he made his way toward the hatch, which Jerimiah was already opening.

"See?"

"Alright, fine," I said, having decided to just give up. I need to walk around a bit, restore my circulation. "Being able to skip across half the galaxy in, what, less than ten seconds is handy, I'll give you that."

It's just what kept galactic society intact, after all.

"You learn to enjoy it," Jones tried promising me, but behind him, Dru shook her head.

"So long's I don't spend too much time doing it, sure."

"That's the spirit!" he said, and slapped me on the shoulder. "C'mon, I think Jerri is due to rustle up some chow for us!"

"Not until 1730," Dru said. "It's only fifteen hundred now."

That was good enough for me. Probably ought to let the digestive juices settle down before they successfully launched their revolt against me.

"So, time to kill time again?"

Dru nodded. "We need to prepare the cargo for transport, before we reach Bromaleon Station."

Well, I might as well take another nap again, or at least try to. Exploring the ship and getting in the crew's way didn't seem like an appropriate course of action.

Where Jones made off to, I didn't know, but I made a beeline straight to our temporary quarters and fetched my cot from its place in the corner.

Shame I couldn't sleep, but an hour and a half went fast in space.

---

"ALL HANDS BELAY TO FOREWARD END AND PREPARE TO DOCK."

I assumed that this didn't necessarily include myself, but if we were about to pull in to Bromaleon, then I'd better clean up and make myself ready to disembark. I threw my legs over the side of the cot, and stood up. Things felt a little stiff, so I took care of all the major joints.

The room was still empty, but my concern was that it didn't contain Jones. The guy really had a bad habit of running off and getting lost.

Though, this brought a thought to mind I hadn't really considered over the past two days of travel. I knew that eventually, I was supposed to find a ride back to Phaderen, but the question of 'How' still remained. Galactic credit was accepted everywhere (unless you were on an Uoeraunaodi world, I heard) and I had at least some money left to my name, so the tickets themselves just had to be found and negotiated…

But, I wasn't sure what Jones' plans were, or even if he had any. I knew that at the least, we'd be dropped off in Bromaleon together, but past that?

I wasn't sure what to do.

Next stop was the head. I did some business, and gathered up the toothbrush that Dru had handed me on our first 'night' aboard. The rest of my belongings were left back at Benedicci Station, or what was left of it. Hopefully the damage had been limited to just one section, and my three sets of clothes and miscellaneous knick knacks had survived and not been blasted out into the exosphere.

I'd been looking forward to a real shower or even a bath for a while, now. Freighters just don't have the proper facilities.

I was just leaving the head when I nearly bumped into Dru.

"Awake again?" she asked. "Good. We're docking shortly."

"I heard."

"Frank's back up and about, so he can show you off when we get there. Though, where did your friend go?"

I shrugged. "I'm not his keeper; I thought he was with one of you guys. Maybe Cameron? They were talking about chow."

"Maybe," Dru said, stroking her chin as though she had an invisible goatee. "If you see Masterman, tell him to wait back at the galley until we're docked and ready to go. You should go there, too."

"Sure thing," I said. I was getting used to the idea of the galley being the lounge and conference room as well as a cafeteria. Spaceships knew how to economize.

And with that, I took a stroll around the living quarters of the freighter. The Nebula Ghost wasn't an especially large spacecraft, but that's like saying that Aldebaran is small as far as supergiants go. Most of the crew's quarters I passed and left alone; none of them should be occupied now, anyway, and I had no business there. The small gym—mostly cardio equipment and resistance bars—was likewise uninhabited at the moment. Jones had seemed like the fitness type, so I'd figured it was worth a shot.

I ended my roving in the galley, and discovered Jones was already waiting for me there.

"Do we need to find a leash for you?" I asked before he had a chance to open his mouth. Jones turned it into a grin.

"Gotta stay on my feet, man. Can't just nap all the time like you can."

"I'm normally not so tired," I said, taking a seat across the small table from him. I didn't bother buckling myself in. "I've just had a rough past couple of days."

"Your first space trip, your first hijacking, your first exploding way station…"

"And I still need to call my gra'am and tell her what's up," I said, putting my head in my hands. "I was supposed to be at her retirement community ages ago, and our last call was cut short—"

Jones tapped his fingertips on the plas table. "It'll have to be a parcel call. We're halfway across the galaxy, remember? She might get your message in fifty to seventy years."

"Oh, damn," I said. "How do I even do that? A parcel call, I mean."

"It's easy, but I can show you if you want. You use the same terminals, but have to choose the parcel option. Then the message goes out on the next ship heading to that sector."

"And how long does that usually take?"

Jones looked thoughtful, and started counting on this fingers.

"I think normally it's about a standard galactic week."

"What? That long? I might beat the message back and just tell her in person at that rate."

"Well, if you can find a ship that fast…"

If? That didn't sound good.

"What do you mean, 'if'? It can't be that hard, can it?"

"Well, it's not like everyone's itching to get to Phaderen in a hurry. Your planet's off in the backwaters of the galaxy."

I knew we didn't get a lot of xenotourism, but surely it wouldn't be impossible to get back.

"Alright, so globular clusters aren't known for their high instance of habitable worlds… we still get some travel."

"Some, in the context of it being one star in a hundred billion systems, with only so many colonies with ships ready to launch at any given time."

"Dammit, Jones! You're not telling me I'm stranded here."

He shrugged. "I'm just being realistic. Space travel is a complicated dance… your best bet would be to look at itineraries and see which station has any trips planned to your region."

Actually, that made a little bit of sense. However…

"So, I might need to hop around a few times, visit a few stars, to make my way back to Phaderen?"

"It's the most probable course of action, considering that the Nebula Ghost just made a trip from there to Bromaleon."

And I was nowhere near wealthy enough to just charter a Jaunt there by myself. At least the next time I should be riding coach instead of in a storage compartment. I sighed.

"Alright. I guess I'll figure things out after we've docked."

"That's the spirit!" Jones said, and slapped his hand on the table with a too loud thwack! "We can look around and see what there is on Bromaleon, too, in case there's a long wait between trips. Just think about all the worlds we can visit!"

We?

"Just where is it you were headed, anyway?" I asked. "I just realized I never knew why you've even stuck with me, aside from the whole rescue situation."

"Me?" Jones actually looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'm not going anywhere in particular. I just like to travel."

My brain had to stop and backtrack a little. How many credits did this guy have, to travel the galaxy just for fun? An off world shuttle was bad enough, but multiple Jaunts spanning entire systems?

"W-what is it that you do, exactly?" Maybe he was the son of a trillionaire.

Another shrug. "I've made some pretty good investments in interstellar markets, that's all."

And modest, too.

"I think 'pretty good' is an understatement."

Jones laughed. "I made enough for me and my beneficiaries to get by. Why not have some fun while I'm at it, is what I always say!"

"Beneficiaries?"

"Oh, sure!" Jones said. "I'm a sponsor for the young children of Panámalia IV, and the Cassiopeian Relief Society, and Red Cross Intergalactica, and a few local institutions here and there."

"Oh."

That's about all I could manage. Who knew that far wandering, handsome philanthropists were a real species? I certainly didn't.

Just who the hell had I ended up with?

I didn't have much time to ponder this further, as just then Frank came in through the hatch, caught sight of us and waved.

"We're docked and ready to unload. Ready to be debriefed?"

I didn't think I was ready for anything anymore, but nodded anyway. Jones did the same.

"Cool. Let's get started."

---

Bromaleon, as we were told, was a fairly standard way station as far as way stations went. Unlike Benedicci Station, this one was more… multicultural.

Jones and I disembarked after a brief farewell to Frank and Dru; everyone else was busy preparing and unloading freight, but we were told they sent their regards. Frank was the one to walk us to the station lobby.

"Sorry 'bout the whole mess," he said, fiddling with the edge of his spacesuit sleeve.

I shrugged. "It's not your fault Benedicci blew up."

"Yeah, we owe you for picking us up!" Jones added.

"Jus' did what had to be done," Frank said, actually turning a little red around the collar. "We watched all the rest of the escape shuttles leave, so there was no other way for you two to leave."

They had all left? It was a good thing that we didn't waste any time trying more of the hatches, then.

"Did we ever find out what happened?" I asked. Frank just shook his head.

"A bomb went off. Near's I can tell, one of the sectors was completely demolished. Don't know more beyond that."

"Thanks," I said. Jones nodded.

"You're a good man, Frank," he said, clasping him on the shoulders. This time he wasn't blubbering. "You have the inherent goodness that the galaxy needs. Don't let that go. Always do what's right, and I can tell you're going to go far."

"Ah, stop that," Frank tried brushing Jones' hands off, and succeeded this time. "I gotta get back to work, help the rest of the crew out. You two take care, now," he said, turning to head back to the docking bay. "And good luck finding your way home, Norm!"

We waved, and then he was gone.

"Nice guy," I said.

Jones smiled. "Not bad at all, for a smuggler."

That took a second to process.

"Wait. A what?"

"Oh, that's right, you were asleep most of the time, weren't you?" Jones began walking toward a bank of food stands. I tagged along, jogging fairly comfortably in the moderate gravity. "Didn't you notice how a lot of the compartments weren't full? Normally freighters load up, because it's more economical that way… some of their cargo was locked up, see, and guarded. Probably high priced stuff that'll go for a lot. Also a probable reason for not going into that holding pattern; ships usually keep to a tight schedule, but slipping away during a disaster isn't normal. A wait of a few hours wouldn't have made much of an effect."

My legs turned all jelly like again.

"So, because we were picked up by pirates—"

"—Smugglers, not pirates—"

"—I have to go the long way home instead of already being at Retirement Station 02 with my Gra'am?"

"I'm afraid so."

I wasn't sure what to think. The crew of the Nebula Ghost were good people, it seemed, and I didn't dislike anyone… but on the other hand, I had ended up halfway across the galaxy because it was too inconvenient for them to just drop me off someplace and risk getting caught.

I mean, I could see where there were coming from, but now I was left figuring out how to get back. An overwhelmed feeling came over my head, left my heart pounding in my ears and my limbs like lead.

"Looks like you could use a drink, Norman. I'm buying."

"Alright," I said, still in a daze. "What sort of drinks do they have?"

"In Bromaleon? Almost everything."

"Something hard, if you please."

"Coming right up!"

---

I don't quite remember what it was that Jones made me drink, but it came in a decent quantity, and made me deliciously warm and tipsy. I tried making a note to ask him what I'd ordered, but the list seemed long at the time and probably included xenobrews like Yormasan wine and Kwerninian djin'ni t'niq.

It's a good thing Jones was loaded, because I sure couldn't afford however much I downed. Thankfully, drinking is the commonest pastime on Phaderen, so I was able to hold my own, for the most part… though, at the end of the night, Jones gave me his shoulder to lean on as we staggered through the various levels of the Bromaleon. Eventually, we found a place to stay for the night, and Jones got us a room. The last thing I remember was curling up in bed, giggling about something or other, and then there was nothing at all.

Bright lights, the bane of all the formerly inebriated, roused me from my slumber some hours later. I sat up in bed, bleary eyed and still sleepy, but thankfully not hung over.

It really pays to keep up your water intake when you're trying to get sloshed.

The room, which I hadn't taken a good look at the evening before, was smallish (as expected of a space station I suppose) and decorated pale purple with some vague geometric designs on the wall. Some Neo Arisian artwork, and furniture that looked like it was made by a supremely drunk gnome, if that makes any sense. I took a few moments to appreciate its simple, askew lines, and then turned to scan the rest of the room.

Jones was nowhere in sight, but I had come to expect it by this point. I threw my legs over the edge of the bed, and realized that, surprisingly, I was still mostly dressed.

When your home planet's pastime is getting drunk, you come to have certain expectations regarding events of the following morning. Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised.

The clothes, being mostly my spacesuit, an undershirt, and some space briefs, were soon shed, and I stepped into what could only be a closet shower. The water was warm, but there wasn't that much of it; I made the most of the packet of soap provided therein, and scrubbed down for the first time in what felt like many a day. Dry baths on the freighter worked well enough in the short term, but nothing beats a hot shower.

Except maybe a hot bath, but I was getting ahead of myself.

I found the towel, a soft indigo-colored thing, waiting for me outside the shower door. Patting myself dry took all of a minute, and then I reentered the room, wrapped to hide my shame, just in case.

A precaution I found useful after all. For there waiting for me at the end of my bed was none other than Masterman Jones, holding a handful of wrapped parcels on his lap.

"Sleep well, sunshine?"

"Sure did," I said, and walked the six or seven steps over. "Do some shopping?"

"I figured we could use some new threads," he said, running a finger under the edge of the paper to break the adhesive. "You lost the rest of your clothes back at Benedicci, right?"

"It wasn't that much," I said, "Just a few outfits. I have more at home."

"We're a long way from home, unfortunately," he said, and handed me what looked like a long-sleeved shirt. "I wasn't sure what your size is, so I had to guess. Here."

I took the shirt, pulled off the rest of the wrapping. It looked like it fit.

"Thanks, but you don't have to—" but Jones stopped me with a raised hand.

"I insist," he said. "I owe you, for putting up with me."

"'Putting up with you?'" I said, and shook my head. "You haven't been that annoying—so far."

He laughed. "Thanks."

Jones left a bit after that, saying he was on a mission to fetch some sort of delicious beverages for us. I took a drink of water from the sink (since we were in a high enough gravity zone to allow running water) and then looked at the assorted articles of clothing spread out before me.

They looked generic enough, but grey was my color, and black is everyone's color. He'd picked up a few different outfits; two long-sleeved shirts, one of them a turtleneck or something similar, and the other with a plain round neckline. A thin sweater type affair was next, in a dark grey or light black. There were two pairs of pants, both black; one a little looser than the other, but both fit comfortably under my spacesuit. What really excited me was the inclusion of a pack each of undershirts and underwear. How thoughtful of Jones.

I'd have to wash everything later, but I grabbed the grey long sleeve and the tighter pair of pants and threw them on. Mostly everything fit just fine; the undershirts were a size too small, but I wasn't complaining.

Jones showed back up after a while, this time carrying two steaming cups in his hands. "Coffee?" he asked.

"Please, and thanks," I said, and took the proffered one. I'd have to ask where he'd gotten it—it was good stuff.

"You can pick out souvenir shirts if you want, but I figured you'd at least want the basics."

"How'd you know monochrome was my color?"

He looked startled, as if he couldn't tell if I was joking or not. So I smiled something as disarming as I could make it.

"Oh, haha, sorry about that."

"Nah, it's good. Do you see me complaining?"

"You don't complain all that much," he said, sipping from his cup.

"I just got a bunch of free stuff. Gilt horses, right?"

"However the saying goes."

I finished off my coffee. Black was fine. "I'll probably get another luggage bag after this. Did you find any terminals around here?"

"There are some downstairs—or, a level down, if you will," Jones said, pointing down between his feet. "Still trying to get that parcel call together?"

"Gra'am ought to know I'll be a while," I said, crumpling the cup in my hand. Flimsy cardboard. "Hopefully not that much of a while, but still."

Jones nodded, and polished off his own drink. "Understandable. C'mon, I'll show you how to get there."

There was an auto janitor waiting for us outside; we gave it our cups, and it let itself into the room to collect the rest of the waste, probably to be reused elsewhere on the station. Not too far away was an elevator; I vaguely recalled it from before, but the music playing wasn't familiar. Something local, maybe.

One quick ride down, and Jones walked me over to another of the ubiquitous banks of terminals that every station to date seemed to keep more or less on the way to the lobby. As it turned out, the parcel options were obvious, once I knew what to look for. I put in Gra'am's station address and picked up the receiver.

"Thank you for using GalactiTalk. This parcel has been selected for Beatrice Smith. Please leave your message at the tone."

Beeeoop.

Ahem. "Hey, Gra'ama, it's me, Norm. I'm sorry we got cut off earlier—things got bad at Benedicci, I'm not sure if you've heard about that yet. I'm fine, though! Don't think I'll be home for a little while. We got… lost. I'll catch the first Jaunt back, though, I swear! And… I'm sorry it took so long for me to try and visit. Next time, I won't wait so long. Love you, bye."

I hung up, and was about to slide my card when Jones snuck his hand around in front of me, dangling his own from his fingertips.

"Like I said, it's on me," he said.

I let him pay, even though I felt a little bad about it. Still, it was a chunk of change he could afford more easily than I could. With the machine fed, the message icon shrunk, and a receipt popped on screen.

"It's on its way now," Jones said. "Now, we can relax and enjoy the sights."

"And find our own ride back," I said. "The parcel is routed automatically?"

Jones nodded, and took me by the shoulder, slowly leading me through some light crowds through the lobby. "It'll find its way home, no problem. The system's really efficient, and uses unmanned craft, too, so it should get there soon, comparatively speaking."

Six days' delay or no, I felt like a weight had been taken off my chest. I was glad Gra'am would at least hear from me; I didn't want her to worry.

"Care to look around?" Jones asked. "You've never been off planet before, right?"

I was still scanning for terminals that might tell me the week's itineraries. "I haven't no. Say, where might I find—"

"—An exotic bar?" Jones attempted to finish for me. "Oh, those are all over the place! What you really want is something less touristy, though."

"Says the professional tourist," I said. Obviously, he was trying to distract me from getting homesick. I could appreciate that, even though the best cure was to, you know, go home. Still, I let him lead me on.

"The trick to being an effective tourist is to go where the locals go," Jones continued.

"There are locals on a way station?"

"Some. Usually they take shuttles down planetside on their days off—discounted, of course."

I glanced around at the people milling about. There weren't all that many of them, but there was some variety.

"So who here's a native? Where are we, even?"

Jones steered me back toward the elevator. "Bromaleon is in orbit around Galeron VI; I could show you where it is on a galactic map, but I don't think it'd mean much to you."

Pretty much, Jones was right. Moving on.

"It's a human colony, though—terraformed ages ago. Lies right along a major thoroughfare. Get some xenos, too. We might even run into a few!"

This excited me less, but Jones clearly was excited enough for the both of us.

"So, where are we headed now?"

Another wide grin. "You'll see."

The elevator took us "up" a long ways; every so often we'd stop to let people on and off, mostly humans in business suits, carrying briefcases. I couldn't help but wonder how many of them were carrying something other than data or toiletries.

Finally, after what seemed like a long ride, the elevator stopped; it signaled that we had arrived on the "OD," whatever that was. The doors, chromed or aluminum, slid open.

"Norman, have you ever seen a planet from space?"

We had stepped out onto a wide, empty room—empty, except for rows of strangers staring off over a balcony to a blue, white swirled sphere below.

The star was to our left, illuminating the greater half of the world below us. To my right, a strip of dark crescent created a blanket over the mass of color; where the darkness was, golden and white lights dotted the surface in strange patterns, like torn spider webs.

"This is Galeron VI," Jones announced as he wheeled me over to a vacant spot on the plain tubular balcony. Everyone else seemed to be ignoring us; a good thing, once I realized that my mouth was hanging open, slack. I shut it quickly, but couldn't take my eyes off the sight below us.

"It's—it's beautiful," I said, and felt stupid for admitting as much. Jones didn't seem to mind; in fact, he barely seemed to be paying attention to me. But he began speaking, as though narrating some documentary or film.

"It's mostly a water world, like the one our species originated on. There's land that's been colonized; mostly forest and plains, but some stretches of desert and taiga, too. When we arrived here, there were no sapient races, but a plethora of native flora and fauna. It's become a nature reserve and a research station, but mostly a vacation spot for those who can afford it."

His smile, which I saw out of the corner of my eye, seemed to indicate that he was speaking from experience.

"Those white swirls are clouds; your world is nearly covered with them year round, but on this planet, you can see the sky. All the stars in the sky, and all of them visible from your open window.

"This isn't actually a bay window, of course; the observation deck of Bromaleon is a high tech, live simulation. The walls of the station aren't thin, to protect us from cosmic radiation as we stand here and take in the view…"

"Looks really convincing," I said lamely.

"It's supposed to be, otherwise it loses its charm."

"All those lights down there…?"

"Cities. Well, they're too small for cities; large towns, at the biggest. A lot of them are built onto the water, since land is at a premium here." Jones took a deep breath, sighed. "Lots of underwater cities, too, that had their start as research stations. We've mapped and charted and categorized more of this world than most other ones we live on."

"I wonder if home would look like this, under the clouds…" I wondered aloud. Jones nodded.

"Probably does. Unless you have light ordinances?"

"Why would we do that?"

"A lot of different reasons," came the answer.

This time, however, it wasn't Jones who answered me. We both turned to our left, and saw our speaker.

At first I thought he was a tall, thin man wearing a mask, which didn't make any sense. A second glance told me that perhaps he wasn't a person at all—at least, not in the traditional sense. He wore an antiquated pinstripe suit, a matching hat in one hand, and shoes that smelled vaguely of shoe polish even from where we stood. His face—what there was of it—was smooth plastic or ceramic, with two blue spots glowing gently where a person's eyes would normally go.

"Observatories in the area are a good reason to have light ordinances," the android continued, as though not noticing us staring at it. "Historically, extinguishing and relocating light sources has been used to confuse enemies launching aerial attacks, when they lack sophisticated guidance technology. Culturally, dimming lights may show respect for the dead, or to conserve energy, or because there is no one alive to use those lights."

"That's rather grim," Jones said.

"Humanity finds its reasons, or its reasons find it," the android said. "Forgive me, I have not introduced myself. Let us be properly met; I am called Robert of Titan."

Jones took the construct's proffered hand. For the most part, it looked very human in proportion, but the jointed exoskeleton gave it away. I noticed that he wore some cuff links, with what looked like a DNA strand embedded into it. "Masterman Jones. My shy friend behind me is Norman Smith, of Phaderen. A pleasure to meet you, sir."

"The pleasure is mine," Robert said, nodded toward me. A brief hiccup later and I returned the gesture.

"So, what brings you to Bromaleon?" I decided to ask. Small talk seemed to be a skill I needed to practice anyway, and, well, it'd be too weird to be rude to such a polite mechanism.

"Galeron is my destination," came my answer. "I have always wanted to see the native life; while the myriad iterations of Terran life are fascinating, I have developed an interest in xenobiology."

Robert the Robot, with living things as a hobby. I knew I hadn't seen it all, but I could chalk this one up on my ever-growing list. At least Gra'am would have a story waiting for her.

"You're a scientist?" Jones appeared to want to follow up this line of inquiry.

"I have had enough time now to acquire some number of degrees, but biology is merely a diversion of mine, though a passionate one."

It was weird, hearing a construct talk about emotions. I'd been told that AI had come a long way now, though. Most of our robots back home were of the practical, mute kind.

"You've been planetside yet?"

"My shuttle leaves in two standard hours."

"Norm!" Jones wheeled about to face me, a giant smile lighting up his face. "Care to take a tour?"

"Uhm, shouldn't we ask permission first?"

"I will not turn down pleasant company for my trip. Perhaps we could explore together, for a time."

"See? Everything's fine!"

"I dunno," I said, that overwhelming feeling falling about my ears again. "I need to look for the fastest ship back home, first."

"That shouldn't take two hours," Jones said, and Robert nodded in agreement. "Mind meeting up by your shuttle gate?"

Robert (weird using a name for him) gave us his gate number, and we were on our way. Once more, I had Jones show me to the proper location to do my business.

"You know a lot about station layouts," I told him as he directed me to yet another style of terminal, this time with a huge screen filled with dates and names above it. "Comes from traveling a lot, I guess?"

"Sure does," he said. "Most of them are designed more or less the same, so people don't get quite so lost when they're transiting between stops. Once you're off a way station, things can get a little more creative."

I supposed that Retirement Station 02 back home wasn't built like either Bromaleon or Benedicci, but I wasn't sure yet. I'd have to keep it in mind, for when I got back and was actually able to accomplish the mission that set me on this whole misadventure in the first place.

"So, how do I—"

"Here," Jones said, nudging me lightly aside as he took control of the panel. "You use this keyboard here, find your destination—Phaderen, in this case. See? That brings up this new menu…"

The system was amazingly uncomplicated, once I saw how it worked, but looking at all the shifting and changing data floating above my head, on the master screen…

I never knew the galaxy was so huge. No, colossal. Wait, no, not that either; there were no human words quite sufficient to describe the feeling, of seeing, for the first time, the countless number of habited worlds and colonies across near space.

How many had Jones seen, so far? I had a feeling it was more than a few.

"Ah, this looks promising," Jones said, snapping me out of my reverie. He pointed toward the terminal. "There's a flight from Tcaras in about two weeks."

"Where's that? Is that really the soonest one?"

"Check this out," he said, and hit some icon on the screen. A section of the display above us dimmed, and in its place hung a barred spiral galaxy—the Milky Way. Thousands of millions of stars, each a tiny pinprick or smaller, swam serenely in front of us.

Wow. We didn't have tech like this back home.

Jones pointed to the hologram with one hand, and tapped the screen a few times. "See, here we are—" a small red circle grew into a ring around a tiny, inconspicuous speck out near the end of the bar proper, "and here is Tcaras." Another ring grew around an identical mote, this time a bit more on the outside of the spiral. I'd guess maybe it was three or four light years away from our present location.

"Where's Phaderen?" I asked.

Another rapid tap. This time, a yellow ring appeared, out near the outskirts of the galaxy, next to a tiny cluster of stars.

"Right there."

The backwaters, Jones had said. The galaxy was so big, and here was home, sitting on the edge of it, threatening to launch into the void like a stray eddy.

"You alright, man?"

I sighed, tried to shake the feeling off. "I've just never seen the whole thing, before. The scale of it all… it's just messing with me, that's all."

Jones gave me a sidelong glance, but soon went back to his terminal. A few more taps, and suddenly the mockup of the Milky Way was a spider web of thin lines, zigging and zagging between systems.

"These are the best options for flights, if you're going to take Tcaras to Phaderen."

None of the paths looked especially straight.

"That's a lot of layovers," I noted. Jones shrugged.

"It's the biz, that's all. It's more efficient to make a bunch of stops along the way, rather than skip a ton of livable space."

"I get that," I said. "But, which one of these has the fewest number of stops?"

Tap, tap, taptap. Tap.

Two of the glowing strands grew bright, as the rest faded into nothing. Each looked equally bent.

"Going from here to Jade Station will take you on a route through four other stations, before you get back to Benedicci. It's the same if you go to Whinsom."

That was a lot of travel. A lot of tickets, too. Suddenly I was glad that Jones had felt guilty enough to lend me a hand.

"Of course, there are a lot of other routes you can take, some of which don't add all that much more time. It'd be a great opportunity to explore, and really see the galaxy!"

"I'm just trying to get home," I said, and tapped out of the menu on the terminal. The galactic model faded into thin air, replaced by the glowing names and dates from before. "I went into space to visit my Gra'am, and that's what I intend to do."

I could feel Jones deflate next to me. "What about souvenirs?"

"What about them?"

"You're not much fun, you know that?"

"Eh." Not having fun was safer, generally speaking.

None of the flights left anytime soon, but Jones helped me book the one to Whinsom. According to the data, we had about four days before our flight was scheduled to leave.

I passed on the offer for lunch, and prepared myself to take my first atmospheric reentry jaunt.