“It’s been an experience working with you, too, sir,” Legroeder said, cracking half a smile. “I suppose we might see you around the station?”
“I suppose we might,” Glenswarg agreed. With a brisk salute, he turned back to his bridge duties. Legroeder and the Narseil trooped off to the airlock.
If Legroeder was hoping they might be greeted by Tracy-Ace in the docking bay, he was unsurprised to find a security escort instead. The leader of the escort, ears bristling with augments, bowed. “Riggers, Yankee-Zulu/Ivan welcomes you back, and requests a meeting at the earliest opportunity.”
“Um—” Legroeder said, squinting at the man’s name badge. Lieutenant Zond, it looked like. “Certainly. But do you mind if we see our colleagues off Impris first? We’ve had quite a time of it.”
“Of course,” the lieutenant said, gesturing down the platform. “That was the next thing I was going to say. We’re about to have the formal opening of the Impris hatch. First time in a hundred years, I understand. Of course we want all of you to be on hand.”
Not quite the first time, Legroeder thought dryly, but confined himself to saying, “A hundred twenty-four years, actually.”
Lieutenant Zond gave no sign of having heard, but led the way around to the Impris docking platform. A clear wall afforded a breathtaking view of the ship, like a great silver whale. About a third of the way down its hull, a circle of security people surrounded the main hatch. In the middle of the circle stood Tracy-Ace/Alfa.
Legroeder’s heartbeat quickened as he saw her gesturing and giving orders. Lieutenant Zond brought them through the circle. It took Tracy-Ace a few moments to notice them; she turned with a big grin, her eyes shining—and did a double take when she saw Legroeder’s hair. She didn’t say a word about it, but strode forward with an outstretched hand to greet him. “Rigger Legroeder! Welcome back to Outpost Ivan!”
Legroeder had been wondering how he should greet her. Taking her cue, he clasped her hand in an official welcome. He felt an electric tingle at her touch, and her beaming if slightly unfocused smile. For a moment, he felt a giddy desire to enfold her in his arms; but then the tingle fled, and her smile and hand moved on, leaving him empty as she turned to his Narseil friends. “Welcome back, all of you! And congratulations! You’ve accomplished an astounding feat!” Tracy-Ace made a sweeping gesture to the starliner. “Impris! You brought her back safely! Who would have believed it?”
As she marveled, Legroeder found himself feeling ignored by Tracy-Ace. Is it because we’re in public? Or is something going on? He cleared his throat. Don’t be a fool; she could hardly hug you in front of everyone, could she? I don’t care; I don’t like being ignored. He cleared his throat again. “Did you get our preliminary report?”
“Indeed, we did,” boomed a voice beside him, and Legroeder turned to see a larger-than-life holo of Yankee-Zulu/Ivan floating beside him. “It’s an incredible story. Simply incredible. We want to hear every detail.”
Legroeder inclined his head in acknowledgment, wondering why YZ/I had chosen to appear in holo, rather than in person.
“We’re expecting the Impris officers to emerge momentarily,” Tracy-Ace said, her temple implants racing with activity. For an instant Legroeder thought he caught the familiar twinkle in her eye, and he suppressed a flutter of excitement. “We have people standing by to give Impris a royal welcome. We’ve got medical teams, engineering teams, hospitality teams…”
Hospitality teams? Legroeder suddenly saw a new holo—a large brass ensemble poised just outside the circle. Okay… He let out a long, slow breath, waiting for the hatch to open. Trying to ignore Tracy-Ace. Focus on Impris… on the mysteries of the ghost ship, the Flying Dutchman of space. It would soon be crawling with Kyber techs. He felt a sudden surge of resentment. Damn it, these were his mysteries to reveal, his and the others who had gone through it with him.
A shout went up. A dark opening appeared in the airlock. The brass ensemble played a triumphant fanfare. And now, emerging ahead of the other officers and crew, were Captain Noel Friedman and Rigger Freem’n Deutsch. The captain’s face looked as if it were about to crack, straining between joy and solemnity; but Deutsch, though his facial expressions were concealed behind metal skin, appeared to Legroeder to be grinning from ear to ear.
“Welcome back to civilization!” boomed the voice of YZ/I.
“Thank you,” Friedman whispered, looking around.
Legroeder could not contain himself. He strode forward to greet Friedman and Deutsch. “Captain!” he cried. “Freem’n! Am I glad to see you!”
The solemnity on Captain Friedman’s face finally cracked. “Halleluiah!” he cried, raising his hands joyfully. “Landfall! By God, I never thought I’d see the day again!” He cocked his head in puzzlement, as he pumped Legroeder’s hand. “Is that you, Legroeder? What the hell’s happened to your hair, man?”
“Well, it’s, uh—” Legroeder gestured helplessly “—I’ll have to explain later.” He suddenly realized he wasn’t observing any kind of protocol here. “Captain Friedman, may I introduce you to the leader of the Outpost, Yankee-Zulu/Ivan?” He gestured to the holo of YZ/I, who was lit up like a Christmas tree. “And Tracy-Ace/Alfa, YZ/I’s right-hand assistant.”
“Welcome to Outpost Ivan of the Free Kyber Republics,” Tracy-Ace said smoothly, stepping forward. “We’re delighted to see Impris, and to extend our hospitality to you, to your crew, and to all of your passengers.”
The brass ensemble struck up another welcoming tune.
Friedman bowed with obvious relief. “Thank you. Thank you all for coming to the aid of my ship and crew. We are honored to accept your hospitality.” He gestured to the emerging officers. “Needless to say, we are eager to get back to our home port. But we would be most grateful for your assistance with repairs and supplies and so on.”
Freem’n Deutsch stood just behind Friedman, looking inscrutable. Legroeder held his breath, watching Tracy-Ace.
Tracy-Ace bowed. “Captain, we will assist you with medical treatment and whatever else you need.”
“Indeed,” said YZ/I’s holo. “And after all the time you’ve been away, we hope you might enjoy a look at our modest outpost. I think you’ll find it rather different from Faber Eridani.”
“Yes, of course,” Friedman said. But a shadow had crept over his face. “We certainly appreciate the offer of help. Including the medical—though I’m afraid for many of our people, the needs are more psychological than medical. It has been… a difficult ordeal.”
“We understand—and we’ll do our best,” Tracy-Ace promised.
“Some of them,” Friedman continued, “might be reluctant to leave the ship. It is difficult to explain…”
“Then our people will go to them,” Tracy-Ace said. “Captain, we would very much like to study your ship. We hope to find some explanation for what you and your crew have gone through.”
“Certainly, you may look,” Friedman said. “But I think you’ll learn more from the riggers who brought us out. Rigger Deutsch here. Rigger Legroeder. The Narseil.”
Legroeder suddenly knew why he felt a slowly tightening knot in his stomach. Yes, it was the riggers who knew; the ship would tell them nothing. And it was he and the Narseil who knew most of all. And that made them a valuable—perhaps dangerously valuable—commodity. Was it his imagination, or was Deutsch peering at him with eyes that seemed to reflect his own thoughts?