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the thin pillow, and closed her eyes.
    The last thing she heard before she drifted off was Deep wishing her a restful sleep.
    Communique 2D
    To: G.E. Coordinator Millner
    Liftoff successful. Mission on track and on time.
    Estimated arrival—183 days, six hours, forty-one minutes.
    Addendum: I think this arrangement is going to work out well. I am feeling very confident that this mission will be successful.
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Chapter 3

Filed Under "Arrival"
    She dreamed. Unfortunately she remembered very little of it, if any. But Lawn would swear she did dream.
    Technology was a wonderful thing, but many times she wished someone would invent a way to record a person's dreams. That way she could go back and watch all the warm and wonderful things she had imagined. Things that would never happen to her in real life becausewell, because real life was cruel. Dream life, however, was anything she wanted it to be.
    And that included who she wanted it to be with.
    "Lawn. Wake up, Lawn."
    Like that voice. Oh, yeah. There was no way in the world anyone could convince her that she hadn't dreamed about Deep. That voice. That holographic face which reminded her of someone.
    "Lawn, time to wake up."
    "I'm up. I'm up." Her voice sounded like someone had pounded nails into her throat, leaving it scratchy and raw. But what should she expect when she'd been comatose for nearly six months?
    A hand came up from nowhere and slapped her in the face.
    Her hand. Shit, what happened to all her coordination? For that matter, her body felt like it was made of liquifying rubber. Rubber bones, rubber muscles, rubber everything.
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    The overhead bubble clicked and detached itself from the lower half of the bed. Almost silently, it lifted up and away, still connected by the hinge at the head. The lights slowly rose to give her eyes time to adjust.
    "Hey, Deep?"
    "Yes?"
    "How long was I out?"
    "One hundred eighty-three days, two hours, six minutes."
    Damn. If she didn't know better, he sounded like he was amused. Was the Vogt programmed to be amused?
    "What's our ETA?"
    "Two hours and fourteen minutes."
    "Are we within hailing distance?"
    "Of course. Would you like for me to call Officer Siler?"
    "Hold off." She coughed as she managed to remain upright in a sitting position. According to her training, it would take a few minutes for her body to work all the sedatives out of her system. The trainers suggested a cold shower as being the most effective, followed by twenty-four ounces of water to make her pee the rest out.
    "Why not get into the shower?" Deep said.
    Damn it. She was just about convinced that the ship had done more than scan and record her genetic makeup in its memory. There had to be some kind of mental connection made as well.
    Gradually, she could feel her strength coming back. Rising on wobbly legs, she was able to make it to the bathroom and into the shower that was barely large enough to turn around in.
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    There was always plenty of hot water in the ship. All heat was siphoned off the engines, and water was a natural byproduct of the atmospheric generators. As long as she didn't let any escape out into the void, there would be plenty of water to sustain just her for the next eighteen months. But in the event she took on another passenger, things could get tough.
    Hell, it was a moot point. The Vogt would never allow another being onboard, even if she ordered it to. It was for her protection, in case the ship was ever hijacked, or she was taken hostage.
    Lawn let the stinging hot needles of high-pressure water beat over her head for nearly a minute before reaching for a leaf of soap. Yep, nothing like a brisk shower to wake a person up after a six-month nap.
    The water slowly started to chill, growing colder by the second. Lawn paused in mid-sudsing. "Deep, what's going on with the shower temp?"
    "The water needs to be fifty degrees Fahrenheit to be effective in eliminating