CHAPTER 13 (Holodeck Nine)
(Weeks or months later ... after a period of rest and rehabilitation ... )
It was a dark and dreary night. The cold fog huddled around the warm lights. Like a heavy cloak it blanketed everything. Even sounds were muted. Such sounds as there were. An almost rythmical creaking, the distance of which would be hard to guess in this damp thickness. An occasional thud or muffled crack sounded far yet near. Barely perceptible footsteps were approaching, as if they were cloaked in wool. A rush of anxiety began to crawl over my skin. I rose to meet the approaching footfalls. The lights failed to illuminate much beyond their own standards. The footsteps were getting near and I could tell that they were skirting around the lighted areas.

I quietly checked the cap on the large silver cylinder in my hand. The footsteps suddenly stopped. They stopped mere yards from me. There was a silence that seemed to last an eternity. Then there was a cough. I recognized it immediately.

I softly voiced the word, "Mikey?"

He immediately replied: "Yep".

I queried: "Did you get it?".

Mike: "of course. It just took longer to find it in this soup."

He stepped into view, glancing immediately at the silver cylinder in my clutch. As Mikey displayed the package I held the cylinder out to him. He took it while placing the package in my hand.

I said, "This way". He followed my lead to the edge of the wooden deck. We we stepped into the boat and I tossed the bait into the ice chest as he began to pour coffee into the cap.

I remarked: "Another early start for another glorious day. It doesn't get any better than this !"

Mike nodded and smiled as we settled into the familiar routine. The engine coughed and came alive. The ropes were loosened and stowed. Slowly we headed out through the familiar channel, sounding the horn as we went. Half an hour later, we were out of the channel, the sun's light was burning its way through and the fog thinned as it lifted. We stepped up onto a plane and were soon at our favorite area. Dropping to a crawl we dropped our offerings into the vast briney deep. The sun broke through and began to brighten the promise of the day ahead. Mike broke the silence with the traditional first call ---"peeeeieiiieeeiiieethpht" (fart). I struck a match and threw it at him. He almost poured his coffee all over himself.

Mikey stammered with a chuckle: Commander Speaker, you'll never change!" Just then his pole dipped sharply and the line began to sing out as it ran. In the brilliance of the emerald green a large Andromedan Sounder broke through the surface in a flying arc of spray. It flipped and cast its dark eye on us as it dove back into the green liquid. Mike exclaimed happily: "Its a keeper. This omens a good day!" as he snapped the switch and keyed the pad on his auto-reel. My smile reached deep and a warm feeling filled my chest. As I reached for the net my the sensor alert dinged as my pole dipped with a solid strike. I tossed the net to Mike and lunged for my pole as the line streamed out in a blur. Mike laughed at my animations and I laughed at myself along with him. We nearly forgot the Andromedan Sounders as we got caught up in the mirth. We nearly knocked over our antique barbeque and lunch.

The tank was full of Sounders and a few other things we couldn't identify. We turned towards the shore as the lower of the twin suns began to touch the horizon. The day had been full. There was the usual plethora of pranks and dry humor (aka: bad jokes) interspersed with rememberances and mind numbing chat. Cruising back, few words were exchanged. None were needed.

………………………………………………………………………………………

The lights dim as the camera pulls back and the director calls: "Cut".

Synchronously, Cmdr. 'Scorpion' and Capt. 'Hotshot' exclaim in a deep grating groan, "Oh no ! Not again!".

Both feeling around for the simulator mushroom stop button ...... The scene fades with the two brave men fading in a fizzle of diminishing returns that have a redemption value ... thus returnable.

Time inverts.