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glaring blindness. It couldn't steer itself. Which was why it needed a human counterpart to tell it when to dodge something when that something unexpectedly got in the way during liftoff.
    27
     
     
     
    Like the crash of '27. Lawn grasped the two throttles and steeled herself. She had been eight years old when she'd first seen the vidcast of the horrible accident. When a passenger airline had unexpectedly crossed the outpost ship's airspace, and both had exploded in a fireball. Over nine hundred lives had been lost. To this day, the Bureau showed that clip as a lesson to every cadet in the program.
    "Liftoff in sixty seconds," Deep told her. "All is secured. We have a go with command."
    Lawn nodded. "I'm ready. Let's do it!"
    started voicing the countdown from twenty. Beneath her feet she could feel the engines vibrating as they increased power. So far, everything felt exactly like the simulation. The only difference was that once they reached the upper atmosphere, the lights wouldn't go down and the captain wasn't going to open up the faux door to the control room to tell her how badly she had screwed up.
    "Four. Three. Two. One. Starting acceleration."
    "Commence liftoff."
    The Vogt ship arose from the landing pad and hovered momentarily as it waited for Lawn to aim it upward. Once the landing gear retracted, the ship pointed its nose at the sky and began its ascent.
    "Watching my back, Deep?"
    "You're clear," the ship assured her, meaning her airspace was wide open.
    Before she knew it, the Vogt was in the upper atmosphere.
    Quickly, she rolled the ship so that the sun's rays would strike the protected underbelly as they continued out into space.
    28
     
     
     
    After another sixteen-thousand miles, Lawn could relax both figuratively and mentally. So far so good. Now it was time to bed down.
    Undoing the harness signaled the console seat to release its hold on her. Lawn got to her feet and took one final look out the viewscreen. The sight of the unfolding universe never failed to enthrall her. It was one of the reasons why she had chosen this vocation.
    "Your bed is ready," Deep informed her.
    "So am I." And it was the truth. The stress of the past three years getting ready for this mission had taken its toll on her. The option of sleep had often been sacrificed in order to get in whatever extra practice or drill she required to hone her abilities. Any fraction of a second she could shear off her time trials had placed her that much closer to being chosen for this kind of mission. The next six months would be her reward for her sacrifices.
    Downstairs, she quickly stripped and went into the bathroom to relieve herself. Once she was placed under hyperthermatic sleep, her bodily functions would almost cease, negating the need to visit the potty in mid-transit.
    Still, she wanted to make sure she crawled under the covers with an empty bladder.
    For a split second she caught the reflection of herself in the mirror above the collapsible sink. Her hand involuntarily lifted to touch her cheek. Angrily, she straightened up and glared back at her image. "It's over," she told herself firmly. "For the next two years there's nothing holding you back. Nothing. Got that?"
    29

     

    "Got what, Lawn?"
    If she didn't know any better, the ship sounded sincerely curious.
    "Never mind."
    Naked, she climbed into her pod bed and turned onto her side, in her favorite sleep position. The bed's transparent lid lowered itself, and she heard the muffled clicks when it secured the seals.
    "Breathe regularly," Deep instructed her. "Don't be afraid if you start to feel disoriented or dizzy."
    She couldn't help but smile. "Yes, Momma."
    She had to give credit to the ship for not responding.
    Vaguely, she wondered if the Vogt had been programmed to give snappy comebacks.
    A soft mist began to fill the pod, silent and white. She reached up to feel it, and found it cold. Lawn drew the sheet up over her body, found a comfortable position for her head on