Chapter 83: A Shield in the Stars
President Mitchell sat alone in the Oval Office, the lights dimmed to a soft amber glow, the curtains drawn shut. He leaned back into the cushions of the couch, his gaze momentarily fixed on the Resolute Desk while nursing a gin and tonic in his hand. The ice clinked softly as he swirled the drink, his thoughts drifting far from the room.
He had told his secretary he needed a few minutes alone to collect himself, knowing the day ahead would be both grueling and somber. Days like this never carried any joy—only the weight of loss and the burden of leadership.
The stillness of the room was deceptive, a quiet that contrasted sharply with the storm of emotions roiling within him. Tragedies like this always gripped the nation in a way that was deeply moving. Even though it was on a much smaller scale compared to other disasters, its rawness resonated with the public. There was something about a single life, lost in the vast emptiness of space, that cut through the noise of everyday life and struck a chord in every man and woman.
It didn't matter that the man in question wasn't American, that he came from a country whose relationship with the United States was currently strained at best. When it came to space, the petty divisions of humanity seemed to fall away. When accidents like this happened, it was as though the entire world paused to mourn together, their shared sorrow dissolving borders and politics.
President Mitchell exhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging slightly as he took another sip of his drink. The sharp tang of lime bit against the smoothness of the gin, grounding him momentarily. His gaze flicked to the television mounted discreetly on the far wall, muted but glowing with an image of the International Space Station. A news ticker crawled below, detailing updates.
It was stock footage. He had ordered the live feeds pulled from the internet immediately after the accident. Moments like these truly felt as though the weight of the world was pressing down on his shoulders. But he could bear that weight. What consumed his thoughts now was the image of that one man, drifting helplessly above them, and the hard truth that even as the most powerful man in the world, he was powerless—unable to reach him in time.
He thought back to the Columbia disaster. At the time, he had been a young congressman, idealistic and full of ambition. That tragedy had unfolded with horrifying suddenness—a bright flash of destruction streaking across the sky—and yet its implications had rippled through NASA's operations for years, even to this day. The memory lingered, a grim reminder of the unforgiving nature of space and just how fragile human life was when venturing to reach the stars.
Now, as President, it was his job to address the public and try to lift the spirits of a mourning nation. The timing had to be precise, and his words carefully chosen. The worst thing about this tragedy was that it was still ongoing. The man was still alive, drifting helplessly in the void, and that made everything more real—and infinitely more heartbreaking.
He couldn't shake the belief that, in some cruel way, an instant death would have been kinder. The slow agony of knowing you were alive but beyond anyone's help—he couldn't imagine a fate more unbearable.
His hand moved absentmindedly, swirling the ice in his glass, the soft clinking filling the stillness of the room. He had to decide when it was best to speak to the American people—how to honor the cosmonaut's courage without deepening the helplessness that everyone was already feeling.
The clock was ticking, not just for the man in space but for the moment when he would have to step in front of the cameras, steady his voice, and somehow give the nation what it so desperately needed: hope.
The door to the Oval Office swung open with a sudden urgency, the sound startling President Mitchell from his thoughts. He looked up to see his Chief of Staff, Jennifer Robbins, striding in, her expression tense as she flipped on the lights without hesitation.
"What is it?" he demanded, his tone sharp with irritation. "I thought I made it clear I didn't want to be disturbed."
Jennifer hesitated only briefly, her voice steady but urgent. "I'm sorry, Mr. President, but it's happening again."
Her words sent a ripple of unease through him. He straightened, setting his glass on the table as Jennifer moved quickly to the television mounted on the far wall. Pulling out the keyboard, she began typing commands with practiced precision.
"What's happened?" he asked, his voice tight. "Is it the cosmonaut?" He hesitated, the words catching in his throat before he could stop them. "God, please tell me nothing's happened on the station."
The thought of another disaster, compounding an already fragile situation, tightened his chest. The explosion on the array had been bad enough. If it had triggered further problems for the crew aboard the station, the implications could be catastrophic.
"No, sir," Jennifer replied, her voice steady but carrying an undertone of something else. As President Mitchell looked at her, he noticed the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
His irritation eased slightly, curiosity taking its place. "Then what is it?" he asked, watching her closely.
"I think this might be good news," she said, her tone lightening. "As you ordered, we cut all public feeds to the space station and Cosmonaut Sokolov's visual recorder. But, of course, we've been recording everything internally. About five minutes ago, NASA picked up something... unusual on Yuri's helmet cam."
That piqued his interest. Rising from the couch, he moved toward the monitor as Jennifer began typing commands into the keyboard. Soon, the screen flickered to life, the familiar view of the International Space Station appearing momentarily before transitioning to the recorded feed from the cosmonaut's helmet.
"This is from a few minutes ago," Jennifer said, stepping back slightly to let the President see what she had just seen.
President Mitchell leaned in, his focus sharp as the footage played. The camera feed showed what the cosmonaut was seeing as he spun endlessly, the slow, hypnotic rhythm of his rotation adding an eerie beauty to the scene. The Earth came into view, its brilliant blues and greens a stark contrast against the black void. For a moment, he couldn't help but marvel at the sheer majesty of the planet—a perspective so few would ever know.
But as Cosmonaut Sokolov spun, the camera brought the blazing sun into view. The intense brightness caused the President to flinch reflexively; even through the television screen, it was too overpowering to look at directly. The helmet cam continued its silent recording, faithfully capturing the cosmonaut's final hours. Then, something unexpected caught his eye.
"Wait," he said, his voice low, almost to himself. He moved closer to the monitor, squinting as if that would help him discern what he'd just seen.
The screen showed the distant backdrop of stars, but amidst the field of tiny lights, there was something different. A small glint, faint but distinct, moving with purpose against the stillness of space.
"What is that?" he asked, his tone shifting to one of intrigue as he turned toward Jennifer. His gaze flicked back to the screen, anticipation building as he waited for her answer, hoping it would explain her earlier smile.
Jennifer's smile widened, the corners of her mouth curving upward with a mix of satisfaction and amazement. "Not what, sir—who."
The President's eyes narrowed as he turned to her, searching her expression for answers.
"It's her," Jennifer continued, her tone steady but tinged with excitement. "Starshield. If I'm not mistaken—and I don't believe I am—she's bringing him back to the station. I think we're going to come out of this one unscathed, sir."
The President turned his full attention back to the screen, his eyes glued to the feed. His breath caught as the helmet camera's endless spinning came to an abrupt stop. For a moment, everything was still. Then, the camera began to turn deliberately in the opposite direction, as if guided by an unseen hand. When it settled, the view left him stunned.
A figure floated in the vacuum of space—a woman.
"My God," he breathed, his voice low and disbelieving. It was her.
She hovered effortlessly, looking impossibly composed, as if the harsh void around her was nothing more than an afternoon stroll. She appeared to be wearing blue jeans and a white shirt—utterly ordinary clothing for an extraordinary moment. There was no visible protection, no helmet, no suit. Just her, fully exposed to space and somehow entirely unaffected.
On the screen, she gestured to the cosmonaut, pointing with clear intent toward a direction he couldn't quite discern. Moments later, they began to move, their trajectory smooth and deliberate. As they propelled forward, a small dot appeared in the distance, growing larger with each passing second. The President leaned in closer, his heart pounding as he realized what it was.
It was the station.
"Fucking unbelievable," he muttered under his breath, the words slipping out without thought. His gaze remained fixed on the screen, unable to look away.
The President's mind raced, grappling with the magnitude of what he was seeing unfold before him. His thoughts whirled, trying to make sense of it all. Starshield... she was doing the impossible—again. The implications were staggering.
He took a steadying breath and turned his focus back to Jennifer. "Alright," he said firmly. "Here's what I want. Keep monitoring the feed, and as soon as Cosmonaut Sokolov is safely back on the space station, I want NASA to restart the broadcast. Use Yuri's helmet cam, starting from the moment right before we first see Starshield."
His eyes remained fixed on the monitor, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he noticed Starshield appearing to be invited onto the station. This was more than just a rescue mission—it was history unfolding in real-time.
"I want the world to witness this." His voice carried a note of quiet conviction. He smiled again, his mind already racing ahead. He had always had a good sense for the media and knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime event. It would be a transformative moment for this generation, rivaling the awe his parents' generation had felt watching men walk on the moon.
"Yes, sir," Jennifer said. "Is there anything else you need—or want me to do?"
The President's thoughts churned. Starshield was a complete unknown, yet the impression she had left on him during her brief appearance in Los Angeles had been undeniably positive. He had already endured countless meetings dissecting her existence. From scientists to generals, he had listened as they debated endlessly whether she was a threat. Was she an alien? A genetically enhanced human? He had heard every theory—from the plausible to the absurd.
The truth was, no one had a clue who or what she was. But to him, it didn't matter. After watching her save those lives in Los Angeles, and now witnessing her rescue Yuri against impossible odds, the truth seemed clear: she was the real deal.
His path forward crystallized. "Yes," he said, his tone resolute. "Once the situation is resolved—assuming everything turns out as we hope—have the Press Secretary draft a statement. Say that I would be honored to host Starshield at the White House to personally thank her for her heroic actions, both at the Federal Building last month and for today's extraordinary rescue."
Jennifer hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly. "Are you sure, sir? We still don't know anything about her. I don't have to tell you the security risks. We're seeing in real time what she's capable of."
The President smiled, clapping his hands together as his decision solidified. "I know, Jennifer. But I've got a gut feeling about her," he spoke with certainty. "Put it out there. We don't even know if she'll accept the invitation, but it's the right move for us to make."
Jennifer nodded, though her wariness lingered. "I'll make sure the press statement aligns with your intentions before it's delivered. Is there anything else, sir?"
The President turned to Jennifer. "No, I'm going to head up to the residence and watch the feed with Becky. I have a feeling my daughter will want to see this—I've caught her more than once watching clips of Starshield's actions in LA on the internet." A small, almost wistful smile crossed his face as he pictured Becky, her young eyes lighting up with joy and fascination whenever she talked about her mysterious hero. "If you need me, you know where to find me."
He stepped toward the coffee table, picking up his glass and downing the last of his drink in a single smooth motion. The ice clinked softly as he set the glass down, his gaze lingering on it for a moment. What had started as a drink of quiet commiseration now felt almost celebratory—a toast to resilience and the unexpected.
Straightening his jacket, he turned back to Jennifer. "Keep me informed if anything changes," he said, his voice steady but authoritative, before turning on his heel and heading for the door.
As Bella spotted the astronaut's space suit floating far in the distance, a wave of conflicting emotions surged through her. Elation sparked at the sight—she'd found him. But it was quickly chased by fear, a gnawing worry that she might already be too late. What if he had run out of oxygen? Shaking off the thought, she pushed herself harder, moving faster than ever, her focus locked on the figure slowly revolving in the void. His course was clear—an inevitable descent into Earth's atmosphere that would end in fiery destruction. But that fate, no matter his condition, was something she would not allow.
Reaching him, Bella came to a halt, bracing herself as she carefully slowed his spinning. Once his motion ceased, she steadied him, then slowly turned him to face her, steeling herself for what she might find.
When their eyes met through the visor of his helmet, her breath caught. Wide, disbelieving eyes stared back at her, the shock and confusion unmistakable. He was alive! Relief surged through her, and a radiant smile broke across her face, banishing the lingering traces of worry.
Bella motioned toward the direction of the station, her gestures deliberate to ensure he understood. Without hesitation, she moved beside him, her grip firm yet careful as she held onto his suit. Adjusting her speed, she propelled them forward with smooth precision, the station's outline growing steadily larger against the vast expanse of space.
As they approached the station, Bella couldn't help but marvel at its complexity. She had expected something large, but this... this was something else entirely. It seemed almost chaotic, with sections jutting out at odd angles, a labyrinth of panels, sensors, and modules crisscrossing in every direction. It was nothing like the sleek, streamlined designs she'd seen on shows like Star Trek. Instead, it was utilitarian and functional—a true testament to human ingenuity in the harshest of environments.
Her awe quickly turned to realization as they drew closer: she had no idea where to take him. The station's intricate design offered no obvious clues about where the entry point might be. She halted, hesitating for just a moment before moving in front of him. Feeling rather silly, she tried to pantomime her question, hoping he could show her the way.
To her relief, he understood immediately. He raised his arm, pointing toward a section of the station she never would have guessed housed the hatch. It blended seamlessly into the rest of the structure, its purpose hidden to anyone not in the know.
Without wasting another second, Bella brought him swiftly to the hatch. As they reached it, she watched him grab onto the station's handlebars with practiced ease, his movements steady despite everything he had endured. She hovered close by, ensuring he was secure as he began to maneuver himself toward the airlock.
Watching him, a profound sense of relief washed over her. To an outsider, her journey might have looked effortless—her seamless flight, the smooth rescue—but she had felt the weight of every second that had passed. The clock had been ticking from the moment she left the Cullen house, and the pressure of knowing how little time there was had been a constant, gnawing presence at the back of her mind.
Bella grinned as she watched him reach the hatch. He was almost home, and though the mission wasn't over just yet, she allowed herself a fleeting moment to revel in a job well done.
Bella watched as the astronaut stopped and turned toward her, his movements slow and exaggerated in the weightlessness of space. He raised a hand, motioning to her, then pointed at the hatch. For a moment, she hesitated, unsure if she'd understood him correctly. But when he repeated the gesture with clear intent, a grin spread across her face. He was inviting her into the station.
Cool. The word echoed in her mind with childlike wonder. The idea of stepping inside the International Space Station—of standing among those who lived and worked in this extraordinary place—was something she hadn't anticipated. She nodded and gave him a thumbs-up in return, her excitement barely contained. He began working to open the hatch, the process more intricate and involved than she would have imagined.
As he worked, Bella realized this was her first chance to truly take in her surroundings without the pressure of the rescue weighing on her. Her gaze roamed over the station's intricate structure. It was a testament to human ingenuity—a patchwork of modules and panels that looked chaotic yet served a clear purpose. To think that people lived here—thrived here—hundreds of miles above the Earth, was almost too extraordinary to grasp.
She turned, her gaze inevitably drawn toward the Earth. Suspended in the infinite blackness, the planet was breathtaking—a sphere of vibrant blues and greens swirled with soft white clouds. It felt surreal, as though she were looking at a dream. Bella's chest tightened with a mix of awe and longing. She wished she could bring others into space, let them see this with their own eyes. The thought lingered, and then her lips quirked in a smile. She probably could—at least, she could bring vampires. Her shield could easily expand to accommodate others.
Edward's face came to mind, and the thought of flying with him into space made her heart swell. A date like no other. The image of the two of them sharing a view like this in the silence of space brought a quiet smile to her lips.
Turning away from the Earth, her attention shifted to the sun. It dominated the void, its radiance unrelenting. Bella's eyes, impervious to its harsh glare, took in its brilliance. The light seemed alive, a golden fire that pulsed with an energy she could almost feel. It was impossible to look away, its power humbling and immense, as if the very essence of creation burned before her. She stared, entranced, the sheer magnitude of its presence a reminder of how small she was in the grand design of the universe.
Turning back to the astronaut, Bella saw he was just getting the outer hatch open. Once it was, he began to maneuver himself inside with slow, deliberate movements. Before descending completely into the station, he turned back, raising an arm to wave her in.
Taking the invitation, Bella moved toward the hatch. She hesitated for the briefest moment, her gaze lingering on the confined space that contrasted so starkly with the vastness of the universe outside. Then, with a smooth motion, she lowered herself into the station, her body floating effortlessly until she was floating beside him.
Her eyes immediately began to take in her surroundings. The interior was a labyrinth of controls, panels, and equipment. Wires and instruments covered nearly every surface, each one seemingly vital to the station's operation. It was unlike anything she had ever seen—a space designed purely for work and survival.
Uncertain of where to position herself, Bella hovered near the wall, trying to stay out of the astronaut's way as he worked to close the outer hatch. His movements were precise, practiced, as he moved efficiently from one control to the next. Once the hatch sealed with a definitive click, he turned his attention to the inner airlock.
Her gaze drifted again, unease stirring as she scanned the confined area. She still didn't know how much air the astronaut had left in his suit, and the thought weighed on her mind. She wanted him to be able to remove his helmet and breathe the fresh air once again. Her eyes roamed over the tightly packed equipment, and she quickly amended her thoughts—well, maybe not fresh air… but good air all the same.
The process took time—nearly 15 minutes of meticulous checks and adjustments—before the inner hatch finally opened. Bella straightened as the door opened, revealing a smiling woman waiting on the other side. Her warm expression was immediately reassuring, and Bella's eyes flicked to the figures gathering behind her. Men and women—all staring in wide-eyed wonder at the sight before them.
Katie finally felt like she could breathe again, her chest loosening after hours of tension that had gripped everyone aboard the ISS. The sheer agony of knowing what Yuri was facing—what they had been powerless to stop—had been a slow, relentless torture. And yet, the past hour had brought unexpected waves of giddiness to the entire crew. Now, as the inner hatch finally slid open, Katie felt a warm rush of relief flow through her body.
There he was. Yuri's space suit was battered, scorch marks and small abrasions visible all along his left side, but he was alive. What truly shocked her—what made her eyes widen in awe—was the figure floating just behind him. She had been a part of the frantic chatter over the comms ever since they first glimpsed Starshield on Yuri's helmet cam. But seeing her here, mere feet away, was something else entirely. The moment felt surreal, like stepping into a science fiction movie.
Introductions, though, would have to wait—Yuri needed their help first.
"Yuri!" Katie exclaimed, her voice breaking with raw emotion. She barely resisted the urge to push herself forward, mindful of protocols and the limited space. "Frank, Sergei—please help him out of that suit!"
Frank and Sergei were already moving, their motions swift and practiced as they guided Yuri into the station. Katie watched as they began the careful process of removing his damaged suit, their hands steady despite the electric feeling in the air. As soon as she was certain Yuri was in good hands, her attention shifted to their visitor.
The woman hovered in the airlock's opening. Katie knew her expression must mirror her disbelief—wide-eyed, mouth slightly agape, unable to fully accept what she was seeing. Starshield's long, dark hair floated in the weightless environment, framing a face partially concealed by a shimmering blue-and-gold mask. Clad in a simple white shirt and blue jeans, she looked impossibly casual, and yet her confidence was undeniable. She seemed entirely at ease in the vacuum of space, as though it were her natural element.
"Hello," Katie managed, her voice both tentative and warm as she tried to steady herself. She didn't know where to start. "I'm Katie," she added, floating a little closer. "Welcome to the International Space Station."
Her words felt almost laughable given the circumstances, but what else could she say to a superpowered visitor who had just saved Yuri's life? As the weight of the moment settled around her, Katie couldn't help but marvel. This hadn't been just a rescue—it was history in the making.
"Hi, it's nice to meet you. Will he be alright? I was worried he'd run out of air," Bella asked, her voice laced with genuine concern.
"Don't worry," Katie replied with a reassuring smile. "He's still got over an hour left in his tanks. You got him here in plenty of time. He's going to be fine—thanks to you."
Katie watched as Starshield's lips curved into a smile, relief radiating from her. There was something about her expression that felt almost otherworldly. Her face—it was too perfect, as if she belonged more in a fairy tale than the stark reality of space. It was a little unnerving, but Katie pushed the thought aside.
"Please, come in," Katie said, gesturing toward the interior of the station. "We don't get many pop-ins out here. Honestly, you're the first."
Bella floated in the airlock, considering Katie's invitation. This was the first time she had truly experienced weightlessness, and the sensation felt... strange. It was nothing like the controlled ease she felt when flying on Earth. The absence of anything grounding her left her hyperaware of her movements. She knew she had to be cautious—one accidental bump into a wall could cause serious damage. To steady herself, she wrapped her shield around her midsection, just as she did when flying. The subtle anchor provided her with better control, allowing her to move gracefully without needing to push off walls like the astronauts did.
Feeling more confident now, she glided through the airlock and into the station, carefully weaving around the crew members tending to the man she now knew as Yuri. She observed as they secured his bulky suit to the wall before beginning the careful process of helping him out of it, piece by piece.
The other astronauts greeted Bella with polite smiles and nods, though she could tell her presence was a distraction. They clearly wanted to focus on their friend, but the unexpected appearance of a 'shiny new toy' among them kept drawing their eyes back to her in subtle, fleeting glances.
Deciding it was best to stay quiet, Bella hovered nearby, giving the crew the space to focus on their work. Her gaze settled on Yuri's suit, and she found herself intrigued. She hadn't really considered how intricate these space suits were before. In her mind, she'd always imagined them as something akin to advanced deep-sea diving outfits—just a few seals to pop and the helmet would come right off. Watching now, she realized how wrong she'd been.
The suit was a marvel of engineering, a life-support system meticulously designed for survival in the unforgiving vacuum of space. Her eyes drifted to the scorch marks on Yuri's suit, dark streaks marring the white surface along one side. The damage was extensive, and the thought of what might have happened if the suit had been punctured made her chest tighten.
Yuri was lucky—remarkably so. If the suit had failed, none of this would have mattered. He wouldn't have made it.
He would have perished instantly.
As they worked on extricating Yuri from his suit, a woman floated toward Bella, grabbing onto a handlebar to steady herself as she drew closer. She leaned in slightly to whisper, her voice soft but filled with emotion. "Hi, I'm Sarah. I was Yuri's partner on the spacewalk. I just wanted to say thank you for bringing him back to us." Her voice hitched, and she quickly wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "These past hours have been some of the worst of our lives, knowing he was out there and there was nothing we could do to get him back."
Bella met her gaze and offered a warm smile. "It was my pleasure. I'm just so glad I found him in time."
Before Sarah could respond, a faint hiss drew their attention back to Yuri. Bella turned to see the crew carefully releasing the seals on his helmet, the sound of escaping air filling the confined space. With slow, deliberate movements, they lifted the helmet away, revealing Yuri's face. His skin was pale, his hair damp with sweat, but his expression radiated profound relief and gratitude.
For the first time, Bella locked eyes with him. Despite the exhaustion etched into his features, there was a strength in his gaze.
"Thank you," Yuri said, his voice thick with a Russian accent, yet steady and sincere. "Thank you so much for rescuing me. I thought for sure I was a goner." He paused, his eyes glistening with emotion as his lips trembled slightly. "I don't know how to express my gratitude for giving me the chance to see my wife and children again. I and my nation owe you a great debt."
Bella shook her head gently, her expression soft. "There's no need for that," she replied kindly. "When I heard what had happened on the news, I thought maybe I could help. Knowing you'll get to see your family again is all the thanks I need."
The male astronaut, still focused on removing Yuri's suit, glanced up and spoke. "Hi, I'm Frank," he said, his tone warm but tinged with curiosity. "I just have to say—what you did out there was nothing short of incredible. How are you even able to be in space like that without a suit? We've been talking about you ever since your actions in LA last month. I'm pretty sure the footage of you has been on a loop in all of our sleeping quarters." He paused, his grin widening. "Now, we heard what you said, but… are you absolutely sure you're not an alien? You've got to admit, you were flying out there just like Superman."
Bella giggled lightly, though her smile remained steady. "Trust me, I'm not an alien," she said, shaking her head slightly. "I'll admit, I'm not exactly like you, but I promise, I'm not from another planet. To answer your question, I've seen all the Superman movies, too. In fact, when I was learning how to fly, I worked to emulate how Superman flew."
Frank raised his eyebrows, intrigued. "You modeled your flying after Superman? That's… oddly fitting."
Bella nodded, her smile widening. "I did, but that's where the similarities pretty much end. The biggest difference—aside from the fact that he's a fictional character and I'm real—is how we can fly. With him, it's some kind of comic book physics or maybe the sun. I've never actually read any of the comics. With me, it's all about an ability I have that I call my shield."
"Your shield?" Katie interjected, her curiosity clearly piqued as she floated closer.
Bella turned slightly, addressing both of them. "It's an ability I have which I can manipulate with my mind in many different ways. One of those ways is wrapping it around myself and moving the shield, which makes it appear like I'm flying. But really, it's my shield doing all the work. Without it, I'd be just as landlocked as everyone else."
Frank let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. "That's… honestly, that might be cooler than Superman."
Sarah laughed, her gaze flicking to Frank. "Well, there go most of our theories up in smoke," she said with a teasing grin. "And I do believe Frank owes me five bucks now. I told him you weren't an alien."
Bella grinned at the exchange, her shoulders relaxing slightly as the astronauts laughed along with her. She felt good finally being able to converse with humans on a more open level. She still had to make sure she revealed nothing vampire-related, but talking about her shield felt good.
"Yes, I hate to burst anyone's bubble," she added playfully, "but I'm afraid there's no intergalactic origin story here. Just a woman, her shield, and a whole lot of practice."
I hope you enjoyed the beginning of Starshield's visit to the International Space Station. In the next chapter, we'll see the conclusion of her trip to the stars. As always, your comments are appreciated.