PLANET MAGAZINE

Illustration: “TimeShare” © 2005 by SenthilKG

The possibility of faster-than-light travel has fascinated astrophysicists and propulsion engineers, as well as science fiction writers. With the arrival of gravity-drive thrust, the possibility becomes a probability, with apologies to Albert Einstein. Trials are under way.

Sara J. Iverson, Ph.D.
Space Corps Gravity Laboratory

Time is not a constant, Scully.

— Fox Mulder

1.

A Mozart piano trio nudged Kevin Pauley to grudging wakefulness. He levered an eyelid open to view the alarm clock’s display. “Sara Jo, it’s only six A.M.”

A blink of dark eyelashes over intense gray-green irises. She brushed tangled tresses back from her face and drew the bedclothes to her neck with the demure sweep of a hand. “Busy day. Gotta get rolling.”

Kevin eyed an exposed slender hip. “You have a tattoo? Hadn’t noticed that before.”

A faint blush. “Ancient history. I chose the Space Corps logo on a dare after a few too many brews at a Delta Tau Chi beer bust. It’s the old NASA emblem.”

She tucked the nude extremity under the sheets. “Show’s over. Gotta go fix some gray roots.”

Kevin pulled on his trousers, stood, stretched and gaped a cavernous yawn. “Prematurely gray is sexy.”

Sara stomped to the bathroom, trailing a bed sheet. “Gray is bullshit. I’m only thirty-four.”

“I surrender. I’ll make coffee.”

“Some toast too, love. Gotta be briefed before the eight A.M. space station shuttle. First sublight trial with the G-prototype.”

“Why are you doing this? You’re a Section Chief!”

Dr. Iverson slurped coffee and spread oleo on a slice of rye toast. “I’ve been Dr. Lynch’s associate for six years and I have supersonic flight training. She agreed to let me do the test flights.”

A blue and silver Air Force sedan eased to the curb outside. “Your ride’s here. Drop me a subspace note, okay?”

She grabbed her laptop and pecked Kevin’s cheek. “Can’t. Security’s too tight.”

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