At home, Vince Akeeno watched the Langley, a trader starship, come to Earth on schedule, except that it could not land. Pirates intercepted her as she made her last leg of a trade route to home. The company reporter explained the situation. The 3D display showed the ship under attack. It was out of reach of the Earth Space Patrol and too far into Sol System for Earth Star Fleet to intercept. The ship went into high orbit and the pirate captain sent a message that his landing servos had failed. He wanted a repair crew from Earth to rendezvous in orbit. Otherwise, he would drop bombs on Midwest Spaceport.

"What are you doing, Vince?" Nora said.

His estranged wife hoped to catch him at something.

"Got a call from work," Vince said. "Go back to your couch."

"You don't tell me what to do," she said.

Vince went to his workroom with Nora following him. He waved at the sensor before she came running into his room. Her muffled shouting did not bother him. Another call came in on his secure channel. After the call, he left his house by way of his personal exit to the garage. His house was in the Alpine Addition on Reservoir Hill in Tulsa, Oklahoma near army headquarters. He had to go south to Midwest Spaceport. In doing this, he had to bypass the usual protocol because the call had been an emergency. Pirates were incoming.

The audacity of this crime convinced Vince that something big wanted his attention. No pirated ship ever came this close to home.

Everything he did to get to the spaceport blurred up to the moment when he landed his car in the midst of shuttlecraft. He ran from his car to the nearest one.

Two pilots greeted him with enthusiasm. The one on his left said, "I'm Don, and this is Banger."

"You guys army?" Vince said. He wanted them to be at ease, but they did not look like they needed assurance. He had a plan, but he knew he could expect death if he made a mistake. It would be a dangerous ploy. It involved a fake button and fast talk.

"Port security," Don said. "We work for Space Dynamics."

"We have word that only the Langley is in a parking orbit," Vince said. "Pirates hijacked the ship on the last leg of her trade route."

Banger grinned evilly.

Don said, "Banger is a natural marksman."

"It's a bad situation," Vince said. "Don't go with me if you expect this to be easy."

Banger had tiny mean eyes. He also carried a lot of muscle weight. Don was lean. Both of them seemed competent. "Let's go see it," Vince said.

The shuttle wall was a temporary ramp. They walked up it into the hold. The ramp rose until it was a wall. Darkness became light as the shuttle powered up.

"We better move fast," Vince said.

Without a word, Don and Banger went to the pilots' cabin.

Vince buckled his seat belt because of no artificial gravity.

The shuttle left the spaceport driving up through dark clouds. Vince felt every change in direction and speed. The pilots were good. They kept the course within safe limits of human tolerance. They matched orbit and landed in the shuttle bay of the pirated ship.

Vince stepped out of the shuttle, his pilots following on either side.

The captain waited there. His belly hung out of his tight uniform and his red beard spread out over his chest.

Pirates shot Don and Banger before they could react.

Vince stood alone between two dead men.

"Where is my repair crew?" the captain said.

Vince did not dare show fear. "What are you wearing?" Vince said. "That isn't our standard uniform."

"It's something new we're trying out," the captain said. "I'm Captain Dorman, and you are not the repair crew I expected." He scratched his belly absently.

"We're not a military operation," Vince said. "Your uniform is military issue, from where? My pilots were not soldiers. Why did you have them shot?"

"We don't need Space Dynamics clown suits," he said. "Your men had weapons in their hands. My men followed instincts. When can we expect repair of our landing gear?"

Vince moved toward the main moving walkway. It would take him to the aft sections of the Langley. There he would find engineering and the offending anti-gravity servos.

"What are you doing?" Captain Dorman said. He wheeled about with difficulty, having to shift his weight.

"I'll inspect your landing gear," Vince said. "Is that a problem?"

"Well, no," he said. He pursued Vince, who kept a fast pace.

They both arrived at engineering where a corridor led to the damaged servos, which upon first glance seemed to be okay. Vince went to a particular station. A display showed operational feed. He slapped the control panel. His extra button appeared. To the untrained eye, nothing was different. Vince had supplied a new piece of equipment that would cause the monitor to display false information. Now, it was time for his lie. "The servo seems fine."

"Check the others," Captain Dorman said. He was out of breath.

Vince said, "This monitor says you have several days before your computer systems fail. I don't know why you reported a problem, but you can land anytime. The servos will hold out that long."

Vince turned to face Captain Dorman.

The captain pointed a weapon at him. It was of the energy emitter type, military issue, illegal, even in space.

"Now, you better tell Midwest to send up that repair crew," Captain Dorman said.

"Why would I do that?" Vince said.

"Because I'll kill you and drop bombs on your spaceport," he said.

"You won't escape from our Space Patrol," Vince said. "They will overhaul your ship before it gets past Jupiter. There will be nothing but prison for you if you don't land and surrender this ship. Space Dynamics will allow you to leave without charges if you do that."

"We're not landing," said Captain Dorman.

Vince said, "Someone, passing as a repairman, down there in a shuttle, is waiting to get clearance for the Langley?"

Captain Dorman grinned. "You're getting smart."

"Who captained this ship?" Vince said. "It won't matter if you tell me."

"You're right," Captain Dorman said. "You can thank your local crime syndicate for that. We're making loot by grabbing cargo for the bosses on Earth. As for the former captain, you can find him floating between Jupiter and Mars."

Vince said, "The crime syndicate would not sanction an independent action like this. You know that you're sandwiched between two enemies. The person you deal with is a murderer. He won't let you live. He has his own crew."

Captain Dorman said, "He is a one-of-a-kind man. Earth is dying. He will take us to another planet. I'll get what I deserve."

"A shot of energy from your own weapon?" Vince said. "Whoever you have waiting is crazy as a rat chasing a bug. You're in trouble. You know it."

Captain Dorman let his chest swell, and said, "We have a plan. He's bringing pens with him, enough to build a colony. We'll have plenty of workers."

Vince knew that pens were an alien crystal technology that would allow storage of a human body for transference to computer media. Thus, making a means for putting a person into virtual reality.

Vince wondered how pens would build anything. He had to keep talking. "A psychotic with big ideas and a captain who is so gullible he bolsters his impotent ship?" Captain Dorman said. "He is Bruno Carlton, the former Heavyweight Champion of America. He'll lead us to a better place."

The captain's answer was what Vince needed. Vince suspected Bruno was behind this bold plan. This same asshole was trying to extort money through his wife. She was under Bruno's spell. She would empty Vince's bank accounts if she could. He shook himself mentally. He must return to Midwest Spaceport to martial the authorities. That would be his next feat of magic. "How will you accomplish that with a dead ship?"

"Prove it," Captain Dorman said.

Vince said, "Look at the efficiency percentage counting back on this monitor. I can't change it. It says you have less than three-days to get to safety. The servos will die. Then your only option is to get the aliens to help you land somewhere."

"The aliens kill humans," Captain Dorman said. "We won't get any help from them."

"What do you think Bruno will do when you tell him the ship is unworthy for travel," Vince said. "You think he can fix this?"

Captain Dorman said, "He might."

"Okay, I'll call his shuttle," Vince said. He reached for his communicator.

"Not too fast," Captain Dorman said. His gun leveled at Vince.

Vince brought the device out of his front pocket. He tapped in the number for port security. "I need the shuttle designated for repair of the Langley. Direct the call to a Mister Carlton."

A moment passed while the Langley computer efficiency dropped to 97%. Then Bruno Carlton answered. "You better get us off the planet fast!"

Vince said, "The Langley will die. The story about the servos failing worked, but the aliens you met left a malware package when they were onboard. This thing is counting down."

"Is Dorman there?" Bruno said.

"He's here," Vince said. Vince handed Captain Dorman the communicator.

"What should we do about this malware?" Captain Dorman said. "I think this guy knows his business."

Bruno said, "Take the ship out of orbit and wait for me to arrive. I have an anti-virus program with me. We'll be able to leave Earth space with no problems."

Captain Dorman did not smile. "You better run for it. Port security knows where you are. You might transmit your virus killer. Otherwise, time will run out. I'm watching the timer. There's not enough time to leave Sol System."

The connection broke.

"I bet he's making a run for it now," Vince said. Bruno would get out of reach of the port authorities. He had plenty of time since the shuttle he hijacked from Midwest Spaceport must be somewhere distant from landing zones.

"I'm heading for the bridge," Captain Dorman said. "We'll land in Midwest Spaceport. Any possibility you're a man of your word?" Captain Dorman kept walking toward a lift that would take him to the bridge. He did not look back.

Vince said, "You'll not be charged. Your crew will be unmolested. But, you will lose your ship."

"I hope I catch Bruno," Captain Dorman said. His voice became faint with distance. "He owes me a ship."

Vince went back to the shuttle bay. Along the way, he elbowed a passerby in the throat. He recovered the man's weapon, another illegal gun. While Captain Dorman tried to land, Vince headed for an alternate entrance to the shuttle bay. He needed to return to Space Dynamics before Langley left orbit. The pirates on Langley could expect arrest and execution. Vince had no conscience about lying to a pirate. Dorman's men had murdered all Langley's crew and their families except those sold to slavery.

He came into the shuttle bay behind a deadly reception. He gave them a little warning. "Hello there," Vince said. Then he took the first one to turn cutting off his head with one shot. The three others lost two kneecaps, an arm, and one had a hole in his middle. Don and Banger remained where they had fallen. He crossed the distance to the shuttle. He pulled the dead pilots back into the cabin. The pirates still fumbled for their weapons as Vince closed the shuttle door. He made his way to the controls and launched the shuttle before the captain could give orders from the bridge to blast him out of space.

The Langley landed shortly after Vince did.

The pirates gave a good account for themselves. Then the port security inspected the ship.

Vince finished decommissioning the Langley the morning of the next day. He might have taken his car, but the walk was too far. Instead, he wandered to a company shuttle exhausted. There, he sent instructions to his car to go home and park itself in his garage. Pilots on standby waited for his instructions.

He pulled two cylinders of plastic film apart, and he wrote his answers to questions with a stylus. Actual paper disappeared with the trees in circa 2250. Everything he transcribed went into the Tulsa City Database. He decommissioned the Langley. The cylinders snapped back together. A tiny winking light indicated the data transfer.

Vince said, "Take me to Alpine Addition, transponder code Akeeno. Not much frontage, so be careful."

Later, after he watched the shuttle leave, he beheld the horizon through the sweeping glass curve of his apartment window. It shook with resonance. Beyond his reflection was the encroaching ocean that submerged half of America. Texas and half of Oklahoma were under the Gulf of Mexico.

While watching the rebound of millions of tons of salt water against a protective wall, he stripped off his stinking company uniform. A fast wash with his steam wand refreshed his body. A change of clothes completed his ritual, pulling on a light tunic with bright colors. There was a ghostly image with a muscular build standing in the living room window. He put his legs into elastic banded slacks. The rumbling storm did not distract him even though the ground shook. He would try to make this a short day so he might catch up on sleep, instead of doing a 48-hour day.

Nora Craven, his wife, a commercial model, slept in, while he got his early start with no sleep. She would not miss him. She probably dreamed of Bruno.

Vince must remove the man from his life. Laws were different in the 25 century. All crime was punishable by death unless you were careful or powerful.

He pulled on his high-topped socks. The style and materials of his clothing were an acceptable custom. He strove to do the right thing by his job, which meant looking professional. He wanted to breathe and smell the air of life but the Community life demanded a conformity, which included elastic clothing not suitable for outdoors. It also included a mask he had to wear when he was outdoors in public. The mutating viruses in the air and rain could kill a person. Medical science had cured a long list of human afflictions but the tiny sub-molecular life of a virus persisted, hence the terror of infection lived on. Add to that terror the fact that the human immune system was weak from years of devastating war. Women would scream and men would flee from contracting a common cold. Vince would not wear the mask. His rebellious spirit refused.

He would stop by his father's house for coffee on the way. He allowed himself this because it brought him closer to sanity. Long hours pushed him to craziness.

People, according to his father, once wore leather shoes. They had thick sloppy pants held up by a strip of animal skin with voluminous shirts clasped with primitive things, called buttons. He imagined how people looked centuries ago walking to their rusty ground cars in the rain and driving along a muddy ground road amidst a jungle of brick walled buildings.

The last thing he did was his shoes, which were extra soft with a tough pliant material. He might walk across broken glass, if need be, without cutting his feet. The shoes could grip a wet surface. He would not slip, like during a rainy day, like today.

No one went outside for long periods, not since the viral mutations were getting worse. They went everywhere in cars. No one thought much about it but cars were much like flying rooms. Work was more of a priority. The cars provided a mobile living space. Life centered on constant movement. A person slept on couches instead of beds. Vince recalled Joe explaining what a bed was. He actually had one in his house.

He finished dressing and moved to his destination.

He waved at the garage entrance. It slid aside revealing seven new cars with different colors of enamel and patterns of design. His was dark blue with red streaks. Nothing metal existed. Rusting cars lived in the distant past along with dents and collisions.

In the garage, his voice echoed, "Open-open-open ..." The bubble shield on the front of his car lifted. He walked up to the entrance that sloped into the car, and then down into the crushed velvet upholstered couch area. His preference was burgundy. Vince said, "Close please."

Once seated, he watched the shield close, cutting off the rain sounds that drummed the metal walls of the garage. It was gloomy without the interior lights. He touched the main display button set in the right armrest. A dark green square on the piloting grid brightened. It displayed his last racing trek to the spaceport to get to the shuttle launch area.