Spindrift Read Free Page A

woman’s voice, from his left side. “You should…it got us home.”
    Shillinglaw looked around, saw a woman in a long, white robe strolling toward him. She reached up to pull back its hood, and that was when he recognized Emily Collins.
    Despite all his best efforts, Shillinglaw was an old man. There was no way this could be denied: telomerase manipulation could give the illusion of youth, but nothing could change the subtle expression of age that lurked within one’s eyes. Yet one look at Collins, and Shillinglaw saw she hadn’t changed since he’d last seen her. She had the same svelte figure, same short-cropped blond hair, same attractive face…but, most importantly, her eyes were still young.
    She had not aged. She was still the same woman he’d last seen fifty-six years ago. Gene therapy couldn’t accomplish this feat any more than cosmetics could transform a crone into a virgin. Trying not to stare at her face, Shillinglaw looked down. The outfit she wore wasn’t an ESA jumpsuit: a floor-length cloak, made of some soft, off-white material threaded with an intricate pattern of whorls and angles and odd, arabesque designs.
    â€œI remember you.” Collins gazed at him with almost as much curiosity as he regarded her. “Shillinglaw, isn’t it…John Shillinglaw? Associate director for the agency?”
    â€œDirector General now.” He couldn’t help but stare at her. “I’m surprised you remember me.”
    She raised an eyebrow. As she did, the patterns of her robe seemed to change ever so slightly, becoming reddish orange. “You made an impression on us,” she murmured. “Or perhaps you don’t remember?” He shook his head, and for a moment her eyes rolled upward. “Yes, well…it has been some time, hasn’t it?” She glanced at Tereshkova. “He’s the only one? No one else…not even Beck?”
    Not recognizing the name of Shillinglaw’s predecessor, Tereshkova’s face expressed ignorance. “Rudolph Beck passed away about fifteen…no, twenty years ago,” Shillinglaw replied. “I’m sure he would have wanted to be here now.”
    â€œOh. So sorry to hear that.” Collins shook her head in dismay; the patterns of her cloak assumed a purple hue. She turned away from him, looking toward the shuttle. “All right, you can come down now. I guess we’re going to have to deal with him.”
    A moment passed, then Theodore Harker emerged from the shuttle. Galileo ’s first officer was followed by Jared Ramirez, the astrobiologist from the Western Hemisphere Union who’d belonged to the mission’s science team. As they walked down the belly ramp, Shillinglaw saw that, like Collins, the two men had remained ageless. Although Harker’s hair was long enough now to be pulled back in a ponytail, and Ramirez had cultivated a beard, neither of them were any older than when they’d left Earth. And like Collins, both wore robes, which were identical to hers, with the same complex patterns.
    â€œSorry about that, sir,” Harker said, grinning sheepishly. “We just wanted to be sure who we were dealing with.” Noticing Shillinglaw’s curious gaze, he pinched a fold of fabric upon his left arm. “Gifts from our friends in Rho Coronae Borealis… sha , they call them. Sacred robes.”
    â€œOf course…sure.” Still trying to catch his breath, Shillinglaw sought to remember details of the classified memo that had been transmitted via hyperlink from the EA ambassador on Coyote. “The hjadd , you mean…the alien race you contacted.”
    â€œThat’s them, yes.” Harker stepped forward to extend his hand. “Don’t know if you remember me, sir. Theodore Harker, first officer…former first officer, rather…of the Galileo .”
    â€œCertainly.” Shillinglaw shook his hand, once again