The assigned shuttle was at the end of the row. Cris went to the far side of his craft and entered his specified passcode to open the main door. Once inside, he stowed his pack in a cargo area behind the eight passenger seats in the main cabin.

Cris moved to the cockpit to initiate the startup sequence. The touchscreen controls and holographic interfaces cast a cool glow in the cockpit. As the system ran its automated check, Cris strapped into the pilot's chair. He suppressed another wave of excitement.

When the shuttle was ready, Cris deftly lifted the vessel off the ground and launched it into space. Flight lessons had always been his favorite. He savored the exhilaration as the engine surged, feeling the power through the low vibrations in the controls. The muted rumble intensified as he pointed the vessel upward, locking in his destination. As he gained elevation, he became just one of many ships scattered throughout the night sky.

The acceleration of the vessel slowed as the sky turned from deep blue to black. Cris felt the artificial gravity automatically activate when the shuttle achieved orbit, settling his stomach.

I'm actually leaving Tararia. He relaxed just enough to smile. But I still have a long way to go.

Cris passed through one of the gates in the planetary shield and followed the course to the primary space station orbiting the planet. He sent a preset message requesting docking clearance. An affirmative response came immediately, and control of the shuttle was handed over to remote operators at the station.

Once the remote pilot took over, Cris allowed himself time to admire Tararia from above. It's so beautiful from space—so peaceful. Sieten was a mere speck of light on the western edge of the massive Third Region in the northern hemisphere, with the smaller Fourth, Fifth and Sixth Regions below it to the south. Across the sea to the west, he could see the edge of the crescent-shaped Second Region and the First Region to its south. In the sea between the Third and First regions was an island Cris knew to be the seat of the Priesthood. From space it seemed very small for someplace so important.

His shuttle was drawn into docking position and clamps locked onto the hull. Apprehension replaced his excitement as the small vessel shuddered under the docking clamps. It was the first time Cris had ever been off-world on his own, and preparing for such an adventure was never part of his lessons. He set his jaw, determined to not let nerves get the better of him. I need to find a ship.

Cris gathered his pack and made his way down the gangway into the space station. He was struck by the metallic quality of the filtered air, a harsh contrast to the fresh breeze off the lake. The foreign feeling of the station was heightened by an intense energy permeating the structure, felt both in the air and through the metal deck plates underfoot. The sub-audible hum of motors and electricity felt oppressive at first, but he centered himself and soon let the vibrations wash over him. He moved from the gangway into the main corridor of the concourse, where smooth metal walls arched overhead toward the center of a massive ring. Gangways stretched out to ships along the perimeter, and several broad concourses branched out to other rings with even more ships. Cris admired the sweeping metal forms through windows overhead and along the sides of the passageway. Even more wondrous was the blackness of space beyond, with dazzling stars holding untold possibilities.

The space station was more populated than Cris had anticipated for the late hour, but he had to remind himself that space travel didn't follow the same schedule as his home time zone. People moved about their business in the corridor, paying no attention to Cris as he eased into the flow of the foot traffic. Everyone was moving quickly, and where there were no openings in the crowd, someone would shove their way through. Cris found himself jostled as he tried to navigate the steady stream of travelers.

Just as he was starting to get comfortable, he was pushed from behind. His bag came loose from his shoulder and almost fell to the floor. He took a few rapid steps to regain his balance, eventually catching himself on the wall of the corridor. He looked around.

A large man with cropped, thinning hair and a dingy jacket was cutting his way through the mass. Others stepped to the side to make way without missing a step. It was orchestrated chaos, and everyone but Cris knew the rhythm.

Cris pressed his back against the wall, trying to get his bearings again. A couple of people glanced over at Cris, but he may as well have been a decorative plant based on their reactions. He took a deep breath. Don't fight the crowd.

With an assertive stride, Cris reentered the stream of travelers. He had two more near-collisions but managed to avoid any further incidents. Following overhead signs, he made his way to the nearest directory where he could access the status of all ships at the port.

The directory was located in a bay off the central corridor. It was surrounded by an even denser throng of travelers. Cris spotted what looked to be a queue and took his place in the group. After several minutes, he noticed that people kept cutting in to take an open station when one became available. His face flushed with frustration. They have no sense of order.

Another person pushed ahead to grab a terminal at the directory, knocking Cris to the side. Cris tightened his grip on the bag over his shoulder. I guess I need to act like them.

A moment later, when a woman tried to push past Cris, he firmly held his place. The woman relaxed and waited behind him.

Cris took the next available terminal. He pulled up the transport directory, first looking over the outbound passenger transports. There were over a dozen cruisers to choose from, ranging from economical to luxurious. However, those would certainly be the first place anyone would look for him. Cris closed out of the list. That left the cargo freighters, and he found there were at least six times as many of those. Far too many choices. He filtered out all of the ships with large-volume, hazardous, or unregistered cargo. After discounting any with scheduled departures in more than one hour, only two potentials remained. I should check them out in person before making a final selection. He made a mental note of the docking coordinates for the two ships and cleared his search on the terminal, moving aside as someone lunged forward to use it.

Cris returned to the central corridor and made his way toward the docking location of the first ship. As he approached, he immediately felt uneasy, an instinct which Sedric and Marina always encouraged him to heed. Some members of the ship's crew were standing near the entrance to the gangway. They watched him pass, a touch of malice in their gaze. He moved on.

The second ship looked far more promising. Only a single man was near the entrance gangway, working on a tablet. He looked to be about sixty-years-old, and was somewhat grizzled. Attached to his belt was a red and white badge with his credentials, marking him as the ship's captain. Cris stood back and watched as another man exited the ship and engaged in conversation. What are they talking about?

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