2.

Halfway through reentry, the turbulence began to subside and the EM interference vanished along with the sheets of plasma. Lines of yellow text appeared in the top corner of Kira’s vision as the comm link to HQ went live again.

She scrolled through the messages, catching up with the rest of the survey team. Fizel, their doctor, was being his usual annoying self, but other than that, nothing interesting.

A new window popped up:

<How’s the flight, babe? – Alan>

Kira was unprepared for the sudden tenderness his concern evoked in her. She smiled again as she subvocalized her response:

<No problems here. You? – Kira>

<Just doing a last bit of pickup. Thrilling stuff. Want me to clear out your cabin for you? – Alan>

She smiled. <Thanks, but I’ll take care of it when I’m back. – Kira>

<’K … Listen, we didn’t really get a chance to talk this morning, and I wanted to check: You still okay with everything from last night? – Alan>

<You mean, do I still want to marry you and settle here on Adra? – Kira> She followed up before he could reply: <Yes. My answer is still yes. – Kira>

<Good. – Alan>

<What about you? Are you still okay? – Kira> Her breath caught a little as she sent the text.

His answer was swift: <Absolutely. I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright. – Alan>

She felt herself soften. <More than alright. And I appreciate that you bothered to check. – Kira>

<Always, babe. Or should I say … fiancée? – Alan>

Kira made a delighted sound. It came out more choked than intended.

“All good?” Neghar asked, and Kira could feel the pilot’s eyes on her.

“More than good.”

She and Alan continued to talk until the retrorockets kicked in, jolting her back to full awareness of her surroundings.

<Gotta go. We’re about to land. Touch base later. – Kira>

<’K. Have fun.;-) – Alan>

<Riiight. – Kira>

Then Geiger spoke in her ear: “Touchdown in ten … nine … eight … seven…”

His voice was calm and emotionless, with a hint of a cultured Magellan accent. She thought of him as a Heinlein. He sounded as if he would be named Heinlein, if he were a person. Flesh and blood, that is. With a body.

They landed with a short drop that caused her stomach to lurch and her heart to race. The shuttle listed a few degrees to the left as it sank into the dirt.

“Don’t take too long, you hear?” said Neghar, unclipping her harness. Everything about her was neat and compact, from her finely carved features to the folds in her jumpsuit to the thin lines of braids that formed a wide strip across her head. On her lapel she wore an ever-present gold pin: a memorial to co-workers lost on the job. “Yugo said he’s cooking a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls as a special treat before blastoff. ’Less we hurry, they’ll all be gone by the time we get back.”