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CHAPTER 41:
Reunion



USSF Office of Scientific Integration

@OSIGenBoatright

@EHNickSteve, Mister Steverson, we do not blame the patient for the virus they harbor. Neither do we attach any blame to Captain LeBlanc for the toxin which caused her altered mental state.

There will be investigations and consequences where necessary—but *only* where necessary. It does no good to punish those who have passed. Please keep that in mind.

Kirstie S. @KScott

@EHNickSteve, I don’t blame her, I just needed the truth. @OSIGenBoatright, thank you for the candor your people have shown.

Weekly Solar News, Office of the Publisher @WSNpub

We regret any disturbance caused by our former reporter. Our sincere apologies to the LeBlanc and Scott families, as well as their crewmates. It will not happen again.

ChirpChat, April 2044


Glenn did comm Jen after Nik finished with his exam. They’d talked for an hour—stopping only because the shuttle comm relay was about to switch from Earth-orbit satellites to Moon-orbit satellites.

She’d been very apologetic over her delay, but teased him that it was all his fault for doing so well at treating his patients on Percheron, they got home early. She’d told him that the ceremony had been connected to her new book The Write Stuff: An Inside View of Astronaut Training.

Her manner had been warm and caring, not the coolness of a year ago, nor the concern of the last four months. Glenn knew he loved her, and he was pretty sure she felt the same about him. Perhaps this time he’d manage to do it right.


Nik was interviewing Glenn when both their wristcomms chimed, announcing that Jen’s shuttle was on final docking maneuvers. Nik put away his recorder and they both headed back to the zero-gee hub and docking port.

The psychiatrist seemed particularly happy about something. Glenn tried to find out what, but Nik was evasive. “You’ll see” was all he could get out of the man.

The airlock cycled, and several returning USSF technicians stepped through. There were a few civilians, including a senator who saw Glenn and came over to speak with him.

“Excellent work, young man,” said the septuagenarian, former aerospace CEO. “I want to speak with you more about your experiences—nothing formal, just . . . tell me what it’s been like.”

“Thank you, Senator Greason. I look forward to that, and I’d love to speak with you about your experience with your space companies.”

“Good times and bad, young man. Much the same as the stories you are likely to tell. Here’s my contact information.” He held up his wristcomm, and Glenn did the same. Personal comm codes and addresses scrolled across the screen of Glenn’s wristcomm as it created a new contact. “I need to get to a meeting, and I imagine you’re not here to greet me. The pilots invited her up to the cockpit. She’ll be just a moment.”

The senator and his contingent stepped away, revealing Jen standing in the hatch in a midnight blue Space Force uniform.

Glenn’s face brightened as he stood to embrace Jen, but after a quick hug, he pushed back, still holding her arms, and looked her up and down. He took in her new uniform and all of the implications. Her insignia said major, and her branch insignia was for the OSI public affairs office.

It thrilled him that Jen would now have a future in space, but at the same time, he was worried that his own future was still in question. Over the past four months he’d experienced incredible gee-forces on Bat, solved the sickness on Percheron, endured the attacks by Yvette, and led the long process of restoring order and function to bring them all home. Throughout it all, he’d told himself he was willing to endure it all, and face any punishment, because at least he and Jen would be together on Earth.

This new development, however, might put that in jeopardy.


Jen was assigned to the VOQ, just like Glenn and Nik, but whereas Nik’s room was down the corridor, Jen’s was right next door. There was even a movable bulkhead that would allow the two suites to be combined, in case more room was needed for VIP guests. It was nice to know the option was there, but for now, it would stay in place. He and Jen had a lot to work out.

Nik had returned to his own suite—supposedly to file reports—a few minutes after they’d gotten back to quarters. Glenn appreciated the consideration for his and Jen’s privacy, but another part regretted not having a neutral observer.

Before he left though, Nik reached up—it was a bit of a stretch, even in light gravity, Nik’s spinal injury left him eight inches shorter—and tapped Glenn on the side of his head adjacent to the bionic eye. “You can turn that off, now. You’re home.”

Turn it off? Oh! The automatic recording function had been operating for more than four months. It had been necessary to document every action on Percheron, but was no longer needed. His bionics could still spy on him, but it would no longer be part of an official record.

“Yeah, thanks for the reminder, Nik,” Glenn told him as he closed the door.


The two stood for several moments in awkward silence.

Glenn knew how he felt about her, but despite all of the texts and recorded comms sent back and forth over the past four months, he was still uncertain where he stood with Jen. Frankly, the fact that she was now a member of Space Force confused him. They held very different ranks, and any relationship between the two of them would have to have the permission and approval of their commanders.

They stood for several moments. Glenn was, unwilling—no, he was willing, but he found himself unable to make the first move. Then Jen stepped up and wrapped her arms around him.

“I was such a fool,” Glenn whispered.

“I know, Shep, but you’re my fool and that’s all that’s important.”

Jen was in full Guardian uniform, but Shep wore a simple shipboard jumpsuit. Jen slid her hands through the front seam and around to his back. The top fastener popped open, baring his chest, and she lay her cheek against his skin.

“I’ve missed you, Shep.”

“Can it be this easy?”

“Of course, it can. I forgive you. I know what happened, my words and actions reminded you too much of Yvette. I put pressure on you where no pressure was deserved. The question is whether you can forgive me?”

“Yes, of course I do. You’re not her. I know that.” He paused for a moment, and Jen pulled back to look at his face. “Oh God, how I know that now.”

Jen said nothing. This was his moment. His catharsis.

“The last four months have been difficult. Yvette’s schizophrenia led to many awkward moments. It would have been easy to just go along. To humor her, and try to forestall the swings to anger and irrationality, but it wasn’t right. I was there, but my heart was here with you.”

“And my heart was with you. Now stop talking.” Jen pulled his head down and kissed him long and deep.


They were sitting on the sofa in Glenn’s quarters. Efficiency apartments were the same the world over, and apparently off world as well. He had a sleeping area, a kitchenette, compact desk, and seating area with one chair and a sofa bed. The sofa bed wasn’t much more than a cot with arms at either end and some cushions on the back, but it was still a place where more than one person could sit.

Glenn sat at the leftmost end, clad only in shorts. Jen, in just a t-shirt, sat sideways, with her back against his side, and her shapely legs stretched the length of the sofa. His arm was draped around her as they sat for a long time in silence.

After a while, Jen broke the silence. “You know what this reminds me of?”

“That night in Maui watching the stars? I’m sorry the view simply isn’t as nice up here.” Glenn looked pointedly at the blank bulkhead across from them.

“Oh, but I know something you don’t,” Jen said. She reached for her wrist comm lying on top of the pile of clothes near Glenn’s feet. “We can set that wall to display anything we want.” She touched a control, and giant viewscreen formed on the blank wall. A few more touches and it showed the view from a tropical beach. Not exactly the same, but close enough to Maui.

“I wonder if there will be a green flash?” Glenn mused aloud.

“Only if the recorder they’re using is as sensitive as your eyes, Shep.” Jen laughed.

When the sun had disappeared completely below the horizon—sadly, with no green flash—Glenn turned toward Jen, reached over with his left arm, and slipped it in underneath her knees. He then moved his right arm down to catch her around the ribs, and lifted.

“Again?” she asked, and giggled.

“Always,” he answered.


Jen was on leave for the next two weeks and Glenn’s TDY orders were open-ended, but it wasn’t all vacation. Several hours of each day were taken with meetings. Space Force public affairs, HR, and legal all wanted statements.

Doctor Schlecht wanted to discuss the medical findings for each person who’d been aboard Percheron. He was particularly interested in the mental abnormalities, so Nik sat in on those meetings to provide the psychiatrist point of view as well. Glenn didn’t know what he could provide that wasn’t in the reports sent to MMC, but Peter seemed to be satisfied. The director told him that it was the personal touch which counted. He thanked Glenn once again, and apologized for all those times his division had doubted him or second guessed his decisions.

Schlecht hadn’t been head of MMC five years ago, but he made it clear that the apology went back to Glenn’s accident as well. He was a hero, and needed to be recognized as such.

Glenn didn’t feel like a hero, but there was a comm message detailing several citations for bravery. Jen told him that there was talk of him receiving a presidential medal and honors from each of the countries that made up the Mars Exploration Consortium.

There was also a considerable amount of time spent in debrief with Lieutenant Colonel Richardson and General Boatright. Most of the time the general was on comm, but toward the end of the two-week period, he’d actually showed up in person. He greeted Glenn warmly—and Jen even more warmly. If Glenn wasn’t so happy, he might have been jealous.

It was clear from the start that Space Force would not tolerate any blame attached to the actions of one Colonel Glenn Shepard. Boatright had anticipated his moves every step of the way, and made sure that orders permitting those actions were in place before they even occurred. It made Glenn wonder about free will, and whether he was so predictable.

Boatright just smiled, and said, “It’s all just experience, Shep.”

One evening, Glenn asked Jen about the general.

“What’s his story? What motivates him?”

“He’s one of you, Shep. He was injured in Afghanistan, and spent time in rehab. He’s got pins, plates and screws holding one ankle together and is in pain a lot, although I’ve never seen him show it.”

“And you know all this, why?”

“I’m a reporter, Shep. I find out things.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Okay, so he knows rehab, I can see that. It’s some motivation, but how does he manage to know me so well?”

“He had a son in the Navy. Pilot. Got shot up and barely made it back to the carrier. He managed to get the jet down. It was a bad landing; he got his EWO clear, but was badly burned in the process. A few weeks later, he cracked open his drug pump and hotwired it into giving him an overdose of morphine. Took his own life because he didn’t want to live with the pain.”

“Oh, damn. That sucks.”

“But that’s why, Shep. You never gave up. You’re him, and you’re what his son couldn’t be. He’ll never tell you this, but you mean a hell of a lot to him.”

“Crap. That explains so much.”

“Doesn’t it, though?”


At the end of two weeks. Jen was packing up to head back to Earth while Glenn and Nik replaced the movable panel between suites.

“Okay, Nik, how is this going to play out? What’s next?”

“Jeff Ling will be here tomorrow to sign off on your medical clearance. I’ve recommended you for higher gravity, and he concurs. He just wanted a chance to see you before you shipped out.”

“He’s a good man, for an Army doc.”

“He said much the same about you, fly-boy. Anyway, you go to Clark for a week of intensive physical therapy in the zero-point-seven-five-gee ring, and if you do okay, they’ll move you up to one gee for another week. As long as you can handle that—and there’s no reason you shouldn’t—then you’re headed back to Earth.”

“Where? San Antonio? Tucson? D.C.?”

“You’ve been on continuous ops for almost five months. You’re due six weeks full leave on doctor’s orders. Take it anywhere you want. You’re welcome to come to San Antonio and stay with me and Sheila, or hit the VOQ at SAMMC. But at the end of the June, you’ll need to be in D.C.”

“Hmm, okay. Fair enough.”

“You want my advice? Go home. Go to Lexington and see Aunt Sally.”

“Yeah, she’s been calling on the comm every other day. It will be good to see her, and damned good to be home.”

“With Jen in D.C. you can see each other on the weekends. I’ll give you a little bit of time to yourself, but I’ll come up for a visit, too. I’d love to see Aunt Sally again, and I’ll be there for the circus, too.”

“The circus?”

“Senate, MarsX, the internationals—they all want to hold hearings. They’ve been instructed to wrap it all up before the end of June. Then we concentrate on Yvette’s court-martial.”

“Ah, so that’s been scheduled.”

“Yup, July eleventh; a bit over two months from now.”

“Will she be ready by then? Two-and-a-half months is not a lot of time to prepare—hell, six months since she started treatment isn’t much time for this.”

“I give that a qualified maybe. On the other hand, I’m going to have most of those two-and-a-half months to work with her. While you head to Clarke, I’m headed back down the well to see my other patient.”

“Good luck with that. Help her; I mean that sincerely.”

“Yeah, thanks for that, Shep. I’ll do my best; she needs our help and our support.”


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