"May I help you?" The questioner is a powerfully built man who fits the ex-Marine profile. His post is guarding the witness entry portal at the massive Senate building.

"The subpoena directed me to this door," I answer, reversing my mobi so he can read it.

His eyebrows arch and there is a lot behind his words, "Intelligence? You must be a first timer."

"Oh? Why would you think that?"

"The flightsuit is a dead giveaway." He points to several gentlemen entering by way of his partner and continues, "Those monsits and glogs (both are fancy descendants of modern 3 piece suits) are normal, your outfit ain't." He smirks, "Besides, you don't have a lawyer or five with you."

"Joy. Do I need one?"

"I don't give advice, I just make note of reality."

"That's just great. No mention on here of a dress code, can I still get in?"

"These are powerful people, dude, especially Intel Committee. Might be worth dressin' something closer to the nines."

I shrug, "Too late for that if I'm due this afternoon."

"Suit yourself." He drags my subpoena onto a glas and looks at the details. "How about some ID?"

I hand him what he desires.

"Well, Mr. Ryan, that checks," he says quietly, shaking his head. "You get a Closed-Door," he looks up briefly, then back at his glas, "You must be important, but I hope you know what you're doing going in like that. Okay, first bank of elevators on your right, third floor of the basement level."

"And?"

"You will meet someone like me at the elevator door. Don't go anywhere without an escort unless you have a lot more clearance than it shows here."

"I will wait for whomever."

He hands back my credentials and waves me through. He doesn't say it, but his expression adds, "Your funeral."

The long hallway is echoing marble, well, except perhaps the somewhat amorphous white material with embedded lights that makes up the ceiling. The further in I go the more the gatekeeper's admonition about clothing weighs upon me... everyone here is dressed to the likely extreme of their credit limits; I keep getting the most unflattering looks from people. At least I'm well rested enough that I can take it without turning into a grouch... or is that "more of a grouch?"

Finally, I spot the elevators and am about to step into one.

"Service elevators are down the hall," one rather overdressed snob says, almost implying he would have to hold his nose to be in the same small compartment with me.

"And witnesses are supposed to go there?" I ask with no small annoyance.

All four people already in the elevator seem thunderstruck by the question and Sir Snob replies with, "No, witnesses get the next elevator after this one; we're full." With this remark he reaches out and must activate whatever closes the door and they are gone... good riddance, too.

I press the down button again and moments later another car opens and its few occupants exit, leaving the little enclosure to me for the ride alone.

Sure enough, as soon as my door opens, no less than three gorilla's heads turn to focus on me.

"Intel?" I ask as two of them stride to confront me before I can get into trouble.

"What are you looking for, sir?"

"Intel committee. I've got a subpoena to be there."

At least these men don't show surprise or assault me about my gear. The nearest one seems to take charge of my case, "You have some form of ID and your subpoena?"

"Yes, sir," I answer, handing him the former and showing him the latter on my mobi. After running whatever check he nods and says, "Follow me, please, Citizen Ryan."

We walk a long hallway, then turn left and walk more.

At last, he stops at a doorway and motions me in. The room is well appointed, maybe even lavish after a fashion. "Please wait in here until the committee is ready for you, sir. Coffee, tea, and some juices are in the fridge," his smile seems genuine as he adds, "Though you might consider that there are no bathrooms in the Closed-Door session room."

"Yeah, thanks, I'll be careful not to add too much liquid."

"If you need me, I will be in the hall."

"Guarding the door."

"Yes, sir."

"You could sit in here and keep me company."

"I don't do company, sir. You aren't here to talk with me and the reverse is likewise true."

"Fair enough."

He leaves and the door closes softly behind him.

…..

I've solved two "diabolical" level Sudoku sitting here when my mobi signals that I've got a message. I drag it do the magnifier and see: "Be yourself, but don't left her bully you. G."

Once again, I wonder at the value of Gloria's advice... and whether I want to know what I'm really walking into.

…..

"Citizen Ryan, will you please follow me?" my escort asks from the doorway and I comply with only the slightest hesitation. We don't have far to go; not more than twenty meters away he turns and opens an ornate door with a simple golden plaque announcing: "Hearing Room - CD3" I enter and this time he never even crosses the threshold.

"Ryan?" An imposing figure asks.

"Yup, that's me."

"ID, please."

I produce it in silence, worried that I might start an argument if I ask why they are checking me for a third time. She finishes and hands it back to me, then opens what appears to be a final door into the hearing room. On one side is a raised dias with rather plush looking chairs and paneled with very dark wood. On the other side a trio of chairs behind a smallish table faces the dais. Topping the table is a bank of microphones surely capable of picking up any sound, no matter how intimate... no doubt conveniently installed with the intent of intimidating anyone.

"Do I get to pick my chair?" I ask her with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous grin.

She chuckles, "Any chair at the victim's table."

"Yeah, that's what I figured," I sigh; I make my way to the nearest chair and hear the door close behind me.

…..

Five people file in and taken their places on the dais.

A clerk has also entered, and is standing at one corner of the elevated platform. He begins, "Please state your name for the record."

"Shawn Ryan."

"What planet do you consider home?"

"Terra III."

"And you are currently employed by?"

"Xi'An Imperial contract to wing for..."

Senator Amanda Starrington, chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee, interrupts, "That will do, Mr. Ryan. Finally, will you state for the record you status within the UEE."

"I guess that depends on who you ask."

"Are you a Citizen, Mr. Ryan?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

On either side of Sen. Starrington's position at the center of the dais sit other Senators, two women and two men. None have been introduced, but if I squint and stare, I bet I could make out the name plates in front of each. On the other hand, they might think I was being rude, I'm sure if they need to tell me, they will.

The clerk resumes, "Please stand, raise your right hand, and repeat after me: I solemnly swear that all evidence I give before this committee is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

I do as instructed and he follows with, "You may be seated."

Senator Starrington begins, "Citizen Ryan, we have invited you here today to clear up a few matters relating to your current activities and intentions. I have already briefed my fellow members on the meeting the Imperator called and on the MARC report presented there."

She must see my expression change to surprise; she follows with, "Yes, Citizen Ryan, I know that MARC does exist and as near as I can tell, this report is an authentic MARC case file. I do not always agree with their analysis or in this case know why they submitted your file to the Imperator's Office, but I do know better than to bite the hand that occasionally feeds our committee as well."

I note that the Senator sitting furthest to my left scowls at this statement, but he does nothing else overt to express displeasure.

Sen. Starrington's eyes don't leave me, but I sense she is waiting for something from one of her fellow Senators.

The Senator farthest right finally obliges, "Madame Chair, I have a few questions, if I may."

"Please proceed, Senator."

"Citizen Ryan, it says here that your position with Deputy Diplomat Kree'ga..."

"Kree'Gna, Ma'am," I interrupt, knowing how sensitive the Xi'An are about names. However, it becomes quickly apparent that this was not the time or place for the lesson. The Senator glares at me as if tossing stones of moderate weight my way... I don't shrink, but it is obvious that in different circumstances, she would have harm done to me for such rudeness.

"Your position with the Deputy Diplomat started because you have been partners before. Is this true?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"It also says here that you appear to have been vetted on several occasions by members of the Xi'An intelligence apparatus. Is this true?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Is it also true that in the last several standard months you have received loans, several substantial payments, and even a new ship from the Xi'An?"

"Not exactly, Ma'am."

She looks me rather in the eye and commands, "Yes or no, Citizen. This is a yes or no question."

"Then, no. It is not the whole..."

Now she decides to interrupt, "According to this report, your 350r was purchased with funds partly from partial sale of your plantation and partly with a Xi'An loan. Is this correct?"

"Yes, Ma'am, but..."

"And is it not also true that on three separate occasions since your trip into Xi'An space your personal accounts have received substantial infusions of Imperials?"

"Well, yes, Ma'am..."

"And did you arrive on planet in a Xi'An modified M50 that you received full title for from an account purported to be a Xi'An intel slush fund."

"I don't know, Ma'..."

She is staring intently, "You don't know, Citizen Ryan? It's a simple question."

I lean into the microphone bank and try to calmly reply, "It is a simple leading question, Ma'am."

"Excuse me?"

"To answer that question, I would have to state that a guess is a fact."

"And just how would you answer the question?" She asks with an unexpected smile.

"Yes, it was presented to me by a Seer, though I understood that it was for services rendered and in acknowledgment of the fact that I've been assaulted several times because of my service. I have no idea what funds or accounts had title before the M50 got my tags."

"You don't like leading questions, do you?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Or questions where you can't answer completely?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Good. I like the whole truth. Let me ask the questions again."

I realize that this is all theater, and I'm almost irrelevant to the performance... the scowl has returned to the male Senator at the opposite end of the dais and of the five, he seems the only one not paying much attention right now.

My questioner begins again, "According to this report, your 350r was purchased with funds partly from partial sale of your plantation and partly with a Xi'An loan. Is this correct?"

"Not completely, Ma'am."

"What is correct and what isn't?"

"Proceeds from the plantation paid for part and it was a personal loan from Kree'Gna that covered the rest. That has been paid back, by the way."

She nods and proceeds, "On three separate occasions since your trip into Xi'An space have your personal accounts received substantial infusions of Imperials?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Is there more you would like to say about that?"

"Yes, Ma'am. The really big one was because they were ordered to pay me what the contract stipulated when it was discovered that they had not paid me at all since the actual contract started."

The Senator at the far end can't contain himself any longer. "Excuse me, Ryan," he drawls, "Just exactly how much would you have us believe the Xi'An pay their escort pilots?"

"I only know about me, but..."

"Just answer the question."

"I believe they..."

"How much, Ryan?"

"I'm not just a Pilot." I have their complete attention now.

"Go on, Citizen," Senator Starrington says.

"Look, something about how MARC is paying attention on one end and the Seers are on the other seems to make me important, somehow."

Grumpy looks over at the Chairwoman and states loudly, "Let the record show that not only did Mr. Ryan NOT answer my question, he came up with a cockamamie story making himself special."

"I didn't lie."

"I don't believe you, Ryan" he grouses, "I just don't believe you."

I'm about to snap back at him... but the place itself seems to remind me that nothing here is likely what it seems. Looking him right in the eye I repeat myself, "I didn't lie."

The Chairwoman clears her throat, "Citizen Ryan, are you in the employ of the Xi'An intelligence service?"

"No, Ma'am... unless Kree'Gna is... and I doubt that from the interactions I've seen between him and Ksan Ko'Kree."

"You have taken no credits or their equivalents from them?"

"Well... I guess if you say it that way, the M50 might qualify. They haven't given me an accounting of how they have paid me."

"You don't think you might be more kindly disposed to them than you are to, say, MARC or OES?"

"I don't trust them, if that is what you mean. Then again, I don't trust Mr. Po and the OES either."

"And MARC?"

"Gloria has given me reason to doubt at times, but recently both she and Lanai have behaved exceptionally... if occasionally... um..." I search for a way to say it kindly, "... Honesty challenged."

"You mean they lie?"

"Gloria certainly has on several occasions, Ma'am."

"As far as you know, is what is in this report on you accurate, or has it been embellished?"

"Ma'am, other than glancing through the material at the Imperator's meeting, I've never read their report."

Sen. Starrington's eyes brighten, I almost think she was waiting for this as she says, "I would like you to read it this evening, Citizen Ryan. Since the day is already late, I hereby adjourn this meeting of the Intelligence Committee to resume at 1000 local tomorrow morning. Citizen Ryan, since that is highly classified material, you will not be able to return to your accommodations tonight, you will be housed in one of the witness suites; Senate Security will escort you there." Her smile is evil as she rises without any further hesitation and I'm left stunned. Heck, it is only 1605 local, how is that late?

As quickly as they came, the five have left and a pair of suits easily the size of Sataball backers steps to my table. "Please come with us, Citizen Ryan."

"Not much choice, is there?" I ask in resignation.

One of them smiles and says, "No, not really."

…..

I'm not sure if I should be pleased or angry with the accommodations. I've got a view out over the Senate Complex and on into greater New York... but my mobi won't connect to anything and all the comm and holo channels on the room's entertainment glas are the unusually banal and uninteresting tripe fed to the masses. Blaaach!

On one hand, they must have very important people stay here, it is comfortable to the point of plush. On the other, there are two guards at the door to make sure I'm "kept safe"... joy. I really have nothing else to do than read the MARC report.

I'm sure I'm being manipulated, but I don't yet see what the point is. As I try to figure it out, an unsettling thought strikes me: perhaps I'll never really know what is happening.

…..

In spite of a great dinner, I'm rather unsettled. Sunset has passed and I'm little better than a caged bird, albeit in a gilded enclosure.

Reading MARC's tome on me is mind-numbing. There is stuff in here that I don't understand, especially in data chunks called "analysis" but much of the rest is pretty clear. I don't know how to dissect their observations, especially when I only know my part of it, but I think it is accurate. If anything, especially early on, Gloria didn't really trust me either. She seems to have seen me as a conduit to extract information from. Over time that changed, but initially, I was just the replacement data access point for her "AcDat" assignment. I try to read around sections that are blacked out, but whomever redacted those things knew what they were about... I have no guesses at all.

Finally, my eyes are too crossed from the effort and I lay back into an overstuffed recliner...

…..

"Thank you for rejoining us, Citizen Ryan," Senator Amanda Starrington says with as much conviction as I would expect someone on Spider to offer an Advocacy detachment. "I remind you that you are still under oath. Are you ready to continue?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"In reference to my question yesterday about the MARC report, have you read it?"

"I tried to."

"What do you mean?"

"Some of their stuff is WAY over my head, Ma'am."

"But you at least read through it, even the parts you did not understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good. Then I repeat my question from yesterday: As far as you know, is what is in this report on you accurate, or has it been embellished?"

"I think they make me sound smarter than I am."

Everyone chuckles except my dour faced antagonist on the left... he would seem ready to bore a large laser through my forehead. He sneers as his doubt becomes words, "You mean you would have us believe that you didn't deliberately participate in a slink plot to disrupt Jenk Gallen's activities and then conspire to have him arrested?"

"Excuse me?"

"I dare say you heard me just fine, Ryan."

I lean forward into the microphones and say quietly, "You are in error if you think I either knew about or participated in any way with the Seer's actions in regards to Mr. Gallen."

"I can smell a lie, Ryan."

"Then you obviously have a cold, Senator."

He looks rather taken aback and three of the four others chuckle.

The one who did not chuckle, however, is Sen. Starrington. She seems to take offense at my answer, "Citizen Ryan, please control your outbursts. If you can not answer civilly, you can be fined."

"What did I say wrong, Ma'am? I was being accused of lying by someone who obviously has his facts wrong, and I simply answered his allusion in kind."

"Amanda," Grumpy says, "Why are you even listening to this drivel? You put too much faith in this MARC group, when it is obvious that they do not have the Empire's best interests in mind."

"Carl, I have explained that; this is not the time to rehash my opinion."

"Hmmmph," he snorts, then glares my way again. "Is it not true that you even stooped to threatening a lawyer when he came to notify you that your precious tea plantation was going to be sold?"

"He threatened me, I simply informed him that I could let those who had tried to kill me guess that he and I were in business together."

"That sounds like blackmail, Ryan."

"Sauce for the goose."

"Excuse me?"

"Sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. He threatened me, I was within my rights to make clear that my enemies could become his also."

"Hornek would never buy that..." he stops in mid sentence and I realize that everyone on the dais is staring at him.

Amanda quietly says, "Carl."

He stares her down, "I'm not on trial here, he is."

From the far right, a voice clearly says, "Madam Chair, perhaps we should excuse this witness for now, with the option to recall him at a later date."

Sen. Starrington glances her way, then states, "I need to get a few more answers before I can do that." She turns an icy gaze my way and asks, "Citizen Ryan, have you met with the Imperator other than on Terra recently?"

"No. Ma'am."

"Do you understand that it is part of the oversight responsibility of this committee that we be informed of matters that fall within intelligence activities?"

"If you say so."

"It is. You are ordered to report any future contact with Imperator Costigan to us within 48 hours. Do you understand this?"

"Well, if he calls to talk about raising tea..."

"We both know that you are not going to talk with the Imperator about farming."

"Well, if he ever did call me again, wouldn't it be about the stuff we talked about at the meeting?"

"Most likely."

Like a bolt out of the blue, the thought strikes, "I'm not a spy, Ma'am. Wouldn't him talking to me about something like that more properly be something I would talk to the Foreign Affairs Committee about?"

For a hint of a moment, her eyes open wide and I know I've found a flaw. She is herself again almost before I can be sure, "You are a MARC source and an OES witness, anything you do is covered under OEGC 2741-171 Section 4. That means that if you talk with the Imperator again, I can say that it IS our business. You will be held in contempt if you fail to do notify us."

I think about it, the Imperator told me we would likely never speak together again. Without lying, I can let her think what she will. "Senator, will it satisfy you if I agree that if he ever approaches me again, I'll let you know?"

She must have seen some look in my eye, "Have you met with him since Terra?"

"No, Ma'am." The fact that it was on Terra but after the larger meeting means I haven't lied.

Old Hostile's drawl is gone as he nearly screams, "Just lock him up, Amanda! He's admitted to blackmail!"

"Carl, we will talk after this is done." She nods my way, "Yes, Ryan. If you agree to notify us of any conversations you have with the Imperator, then I am satisfied enough for now. Let the record show that this committee reserves the right to recall this witness should the need arise. This meeting is adjourned."

Everyone but "Carl" rises and heads out the door. He, too, rises, but he says to me, "I'm no fool, Ryan. You monkeyed with things you ought not to. This isn't over."

…..

My walk back to the transit is rather strange. I keep thinking that I could use a shower and a nice steak. Maybe even more, I could use some explanations. It seemed to me that "Carl" knows Hornek Tish. Just the possibility that he is one of the senators that OES said might be behind Tish is sobering. And if my instinct is right, no one else on the committee was surprised about that... they were only surprised that he mentioned the Tevarin by name in responding to me. Even the senator who seemed most agreeable to my cause seemed to want to hush things up. Maybe I'm reading it wrong, but then again, it adds up.

My mobi vibrates and I glance down. If it's Gloria, I'm going to have to... no, it isn't. It is from the Xi'An diplomatic corps asking if I am okay. I voice a message saying that I just got released and should be able to return to duty within the hour if needed; I also ask for instructions.

…..

The monorail rides fairly smoothly to the hangar superstructure... and I don't miss the vibration of another message. This time it looks like Gloria's style, but it is signed "Mark"... and I wonder: "Do not use your bunk. Get off world as soon as possible. You are in danger. Mark."

No, I don't remember anyone named "Mark" in my recent past, much less one who would be in a position to warn me of trouble. But I do remember Gloria saying something about saying they worked for Mark if they were in trouble, maybe the generic "Mark" is what one of their folks figures I might recognize. On the other hand, I have to wonder... I intend to check Duncan and the ship out VERY carefully.

…..

I didn't bring much to the bunk, just a towel and clean underwear, so I'm not losing anything significant to just check out and pay the bill for the night I slept there and the night I didn't. I can plainly see that I'm not significant to the desk clerk, but I feel like someone is watching my every move.

I walk the long gallery to the lift that will take me to my hangar level with something akin to hyper-vigilance. Still, as I catch the elevator and move to stand against the back wall, nothing seems to justify my edginess... except the message from "Mark".

…..

"You reserved three days, cancellations need to be more than twenty-four hours in advance. You've been charged for three days. No refund." This speech is delivered in a monotone that would make the voice program for a toaster proud... that it comes from a twenty-something who appears to have a doctorate in boredom is almost anticlimactic.

"Yeah, well then you have your Imps, just make sure I don't have to blow the doors up to get out."

"Threats are dealt with by the New York Port Authority Police."

I consider responding with something cutting, but I would be wasting my effort, he hasn't really heard me at all. "Just clear me for departure."

"Already done, contact NY Tower 2 control before exiting the hangar." He is already doing something else and it's obviously pointless to attempt to engage him further.

…..

Standing at the foot of my M50, I wonder what might have been done to her. I extend the ladder and climb close enough to the opened cockpit to ask, "Duncan?"

"Yup."

"Full diagnostic."

"Who wants to know?"

Sometimes my own security can bite me back, but I guess I will be thankful if it has helped while I was gone. "Duncan, initiate challenge."

His tone changes just a hint and the aggressive Duncan speaks, "Well, it's about time you got you fat ass into the chair."

"Well, who died and made you boss?"

Sounding annoyed, he retorts, "You don't look like a pilot to me, you best jump back out before the real boss shows up and kicks your sorry rump."

"Bite m e, Duncan," I say with a bit less aplomb than I might normally.

"Welcome back, Shawn."

"Duncan, I need a complete diagnostic run on all flight systems. Check for any access to this ship since I left forty odd hours ago. Check also for tampering with your own software, full checksum."

"Begun. You sound worried, Shawn. You know, when I used to get worried, I would take a ship and visit the stars. You could..." He interrupts himself in a much more focused tone, "Discrepancy found in number two thruster secondary cooling coil... discrepancy found in number two thruster backup coolant pump... checksum error on thruster control afterburner controller software... checksum error on powerplant energy distribution router... checksum error on my primary control interface..."

"Duncan, exit."

"Goodbye."

I pull up the command interface and manually delete Duncan's software. Slipping a chip out of hiding under the radiation readout glas, I set the tiny thing on a pad interface and begin to reinstall him. Meanwhile, I make sure I have clean shore power and then shut the powerplant down.

What did they expect me to do after I had been away? They think I'm just going to fly out into space and only when I'm screaming along discover my right thruster was overheating? Circles within circles...

I think it's much more likely that they want me to find these things... either to order a replacement part that they will provide or to distract me from whatever they have done that is much more significant.. Well, honestly, I guess whomever could have done both.

"Duncan, please list ship accesses since landing."

"Authorized access yesterday morning from 0746 to 0924. Authorized access yesterday evening from 2125 to 2207. Authorized access today from 0652 to 0831. Authorized access currently."

"Authorized? By whom?"

"Previous Duncan install has recorded voice challenge access by Shawn Ryan."

"But I wasn't here. Play them, please."

My voice comes out of the speaker at me and my blood chills. Well, I guess it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to record my voice while I answer the challenge if they had a recorder in the cockpit here or on either of my past ships. I've gotten sloppy, I need to set up a better access matrix... but not here... not until I've gone over the cockpit for any unanticipated EM signatures. It wouldn't make much sense to start over if they are just going to rerecord it.

…..

The Xi'An response is short and to the point, "Pilot Shawn Ryan, you are to meet Deputy Diplomat Kree'Gna at Castra II in three Earth Standard days. Contact him with your usual sequence."

I acknowledge the order and wonder if I'll have time to straighten my ship out before I need to meet Kree'Gna. He doesn't like crossing Pelles alone, honestly, neither will I if my ship is somewhat questionable. All things considered, though, I might want to beat him to the far jump; I have to wonder if Castra is all that much safer these days with so many stray UEEN pilots wandering around.

…..

"New York Tower 2, T171-4DLR17 ready for departure to orbit."

"LR17, you are clear to depart to orbit on NY Orange 16 Bravo. Maintain subsonic until 5km AGL. Clear for orbit ops with Earth Control #6 at 20km AGL."

"Copy NY O16B. Slow to 5k, Earth Con 6 at 20k. LR17 Outbound."

Throttles up, just nothing ear shattering for the million or so civs running around below. NY Orange 16B swings me out over the Atlantic to climb northward beyond the coast. The day is mostly clear, just a few puffy little clouds at about 8km. Below me the lapis ocean falls away and the dark heaven above deepens from blue to black.

I select the correct channel for EC6 and make my call, "Earth Control, LR17 ready for orbit ops."

"LR17, EC6. You are clear to throttle up. Safe flight. Out."

"LR17, copy throttle up. Good day. Out."

I push the throttle and feel the drag fall rapidly away as the thin blue dome of atmosphere sinks beneath and the Great Banner fills space above. Far ahead, Earth's moon serves as a beacon and I align to take a stationary just below the night-side's lower Van Allen.

I scan my mobi for a repair platform that I might not normally be expected to use but which would carry the parts I need. An odd thought strikes me: there is an Origin second hand parts yard on the Moon, Tranquility East Origin Recyclers. Not sure what they have, but at least it isn't what anyone would ever expect me to do.

A quick check shows that there is a smallish biodome nearby with docking and sleep options available. I don't want to call them, though... better to just show up. I point my nose at the still bright satellite and bump the throttles. I never get close to c, but I still get pushed into the seat and feel that old exhilaration again. As I flash across the distance I recognize that while it sure isn't the first time for me to fly in space, it always feels about that grand.