Rich Merk sat in his cubicle and stared out the window at the magnificent view. Unbidden, his thoughts wandered away from his work back to that time, almost ten years ago, to a day very similar to this one when his whole life had been changed forever. He'd been sitting in a cubicle very much like this one, staring out at another marvelous, magical vista, albeit a very different one, lost in private musings then too. A secretary had come to tell him that there were two men waiting for him in the lobby, and the next thing he knew he was fleeing for his life from the NSA or the KGB or the MIB for all he knew!
Events after that had been a whirlwind of wonder and excitement. First there'd been the rescue from the hands of the government by the starship from the future. Then, a short sojourn aboard that ship, the USS Virgo, while her crew tried to figure out how they got here and how to get back. Then, to top it all off, there'd been alien flying saucers and almost World War III!
He still could hardly believe it had all really happened; those days now seemed like a crazy and fun summer carnival, the memories softened and embellished by the slow passing of years until only the happy times remained and the fear and anxiety were covered and smoothed over by protecting layers of forgetfulness. He had a little more gray around the temples now, slightly more air of wisdom about him, but he was still more-or-less the same happy-go-lucky guy he was back then.
And one happy reminder of the past squirgled and freeped for Rich's attention now. Reaching over, he picked up the little fur-ball and propped it up on the window sill where it could see out. "Better?" he asked.
"Freep!"
"Good."
Having been roused out of his reverie by the restless tribble, Rich figured he might as well get a little work done. He went methodically and efficiently through his routine, keying commands into the system and watching the results on the large monitor in the center of his desk. A mechanical yet decidedly feminine voice issued from a small speaker corroborating the visual: <Scan complete. No unauthorized contacts within thirty AU.>
He always marveled at how much the mechanical voice sounded like the computer aboard the Virgo. He wondered how much future-tech there really was inside the computer on his desk. Probably a lot -- rudimentary transtator physics at least; maybe even duotronic circuitry -- this wasn't exactly civilian issue equipment, after all.
Part of the Virgo's deal with the government had been to have the Burgosian Players integrated into Earth's new planetary defense system, so after countless aptitude tests and training courses, here he was -- manning a cubicle for the government!
"Life doesn't get any better, Gromit," said Rich suddenly, smiling at the slowly rotating tribble.
"Freep freep free-FREEEEE-free freep!"
"I might have known," chuckled Rich. Gromit had developed an even bigger craving for jelly doughnuts than his parent Spot. "Fine. Let's go check the kitchen."
He unfastened the velcro straps at his belt and stood. That minor motion was enough to send him aloft for a few seconds in the low gravity. Touching down lightly, he swiveling with practiced ease, plucked Gromit from the window sill with one hand, hooked a foot around the table leg to stop his rotation, swung open the airlock and launched himself out into the access tube.
He perched Gromit on his shoulder and headed toward the mess bubble in a series of long, low leaps where his head just grazed the padded ceiling above. Transparent aluminum windows along the sides of the access tube afforded Rich a great view of the surroundings. He was glad of the windows. Titan was really a very nice place, as long as you didn't try to breath the air or go outside without your long-johns....
The ground was covered by a fresh dusting of powdery white snow, and the surrounding carbon-methane slush-marshes sloshed back and forth in slow-motion, their murky surfaces dimly reflecting Saturn's huge pale crescent and rings as it loomed low and impressive in the sky. In the near distance, the fusion glow of this month's DY-100 transport closed the distance to the base, bringing supplies to the dozen men stationed here: Rich, ten scientists, and the base commander, Colonel Shaun Jeffrey Christopher.
The mess bubble was empty when Rich got there. A little rummaging through the vacuum packed goods turned up the last doughnut, so he took it for Gromit plus a squeeze-tube of coffee for himself back to his cubicle bubble and zipped himself back into his seat. He set the doughnut down on the desk and Gromit on top of the doughnut, and sipped his coffee thoughtfully.
Out here, poised at the edge of the solar system, he sat in his quiet cubicle contemplating the nature of the cosmos and thought suddenly about one of the big influences on his early life. What would Carl Sagan say if he saw all this? wondered Rich. The ten scientists on Titan were carrying on Dr. Sagan's legacy in a fine way, but he, Rich the computer guy, was here because of the bigger picture. The Eriarti were still out there, and the scanners he was manning were the first line of defense.
He shrugged and set down his coffee, and turned back to the big screen on his desk with a contented sigh. He wondered briefly about the Virgo; what fate had befallen her and her gallant crew during the last ten years and if he'd ever find out. He remembered an old poem he'd read once somewhere.
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow if I can,
Pursuing it with weary feet
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And wither then? I cannot say.