The Sky's the Limit - Marco Palmieri [1]
“When did you arrive?” Thomas asked.
“Late last night. HQ booked me a flight on a civilian shuttle bound for Pluto, and from there I took the ferry to Titan. I hardly got any sleep.” Orfil had relatives in Christopher’s Landing, and he was likely to pay them a visit whenever he had enough time. “Where’s the boss?”
“Out and about, I suspect. I haven’t actually seen him yet, but I don’t think he’ll pass on the opportunity to celebrate. Do you?”
“Nah.” Having worked for many years under Admiral Theoderich Patterson, they both knew exactly what he liked, and playing host for such a celebration as today’s was one of the things right at the top of that list. The admiral had started as a lowly engineer at Utopia Planitia and, having managed to stay there his entire career, now ran the place. “Most likely, he’s already mingling.”
“Most likely,” Thomas agreed.
Without warning, Orfil slapped him on the shoulder hard enough that Thomas’s knees almost buckled. “So, what news of Solveig and the kids?”
“They’re doing fine. Rupa’s enjoying elementary school only slightly less than she did kindergarten, but that was to be expected. Matti…well, let’s just say he’s in a difficult phase right now.”
“Ah, puberty.” The two men exchanged knowing grins. “Say, why isn’t Solveig here? Or did I just fail to spot her? The kids wouldn’t have had much fun here, but I’m sure that your wife at least would want to celebrate your triumph with you.”
What was being celebrated today was not just his triumph, but also the culmination of two decades’ work, if one included in the count the general design and planning efforts for the entire Galaxy class. Twenty years ago, the project had begun, and now the third ship of that class was about to be commissioned. It would not have been such a special occasion if this had been any other ship—certainly, nobody had made such a fuss about the commissioning of Yamato, for example—but since this was the first starship in two decades to bear the prestigious name Enterprise, things were different.
Very different.
The people present at this celebration of the past and the future were mostly important figures connected with the Fleet, while others, though few in number, represented the UFP government. It was too much Starfleet top brass, too much pomp and circumstance for Solveig to enjoy herself, and they had talked about it extensively weeks ago, eventually coming to the agreement that they would celebrate on their own, with their relatives and closest friends. It was something Thomas was looking forward to, even as he stood here waiting for the actual start of festivities.
“Solveig…well, you know how she feels about the Fleet, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes,” said Orfil emphatically. A few times he had been a guest of the Halloways, eating dinner with them and spending an eventful evening at their house in Central Burroughs. Orfil had experienced Solveig in action often enough to know what she thought of Starfleet, Federation politics, and just about everything else that crossed her mind.
Movement at the other end of the observation center that doubled as the locale for tonight’s event caught Thomas’s attention—somebody was mounting the stage. It was Admiral Patterson, about to make the first speech of many that would be delivered tonight. Beyond the transparent wall behind the admiral, the rusty orb of Mars shimmered in the sun…as did the star of today’s ceremony.
She hung scarcely a hundred meters away, keeping close company with the station ostensibly in order to give the attendees the best possible view of her, though all they saw was the underside of the saucer section, the neck, and the front part of the secondary hull with its ringed navigational deflector.
Still, thought Thomas, she’s a sight to behold.
The audience quieted as Patterson took the podium. “Good evening, dear guests. It is a great honor and an even greater pleasure for me to be able to welcome you all here today. Many of you have had to travel long distances