"There she is." The deep blue of the upper atmosphere gives way to an inky blackness lit by countless fireflies. Low earth orbit is littered with space debris, another sign of constant decline, but she ignores the implication as they draw near to the spaceport. The pictures she's seen don't do it justice and she can feel the weight of her mortality threatening to engulf her fragile emotions. She hates the feeling, hates losing control, so she strikes up a meaningless conversation.

"Remind me how we have increased human life spans, it could be the cause of overpopulation?"

"Genetics my dear, genetics, humans have always pushed the envelope of science and technology. One might say it's in our genes," he laughs at his own stupid joke. "Once cloning technology was legalized, it opened a new field of organ growth and transplanting which extended life expectancy out to a hundred and twenty years but that still left brain plaque and weathered skin."

She feigns interest, unwilling to succumb to her withering emotions. "I'm going to live twice that long, what gives?"

"Genetic Evolution was the turning point. Teaching our cells to slow down by modifying the internal clock work made our bodies last longer. Then, when we designed nano-bots to remove brain plaque, we just started living longer."

"Some people say the witches helped speed along the Genetic Evolution process."

That gets his attention. Witch talk is strictly prohibited and a person can be subject to neural modification. Hyper-monitoring can work against a person if they have something to hide. "Keep your voice down, that is silly nonsense." She saw him fiddling with another control, then he smiles, "Now we can talk freely. My work is held to the highest security standards. Witch invasion is a real threat. They are a subversive breed, never satisfied with what they have, and the time of deportation is a dark stain in human history. There always seems to be a resurgence of lost bloodlines. Despite the impasse and apparent truce, an incursion is a real threat."

"Don't you work next to one when you're in flight?"

"Not a witch, a warlock. But it's fully sanctioned by the government."

Now she is interested. The thought of a male witch turns her blood hot and she looks out the window to hide her blush. How the heck had she not been interested in his work before this? "Can I fly the ship with you?" The look of shock on his face made her regret the question, but he is unaware of her true motives.

"I have to wear a protective suit to guard myself from the influence of his power. This is all classified stuff honey. You'll be back with the passengers, except for the short run through the Crescent. Then I have to move you to the isolation cabin."

"Don't tell me, it's a spell proof room to keep subversive witches from influencing me."

"Exactly," he said excitedly, "you catch on fast."

"Maybe I should consider a career in intergalactic flight engineering, or Post Deportation Psychoanalysis?" That caught him off guard, even the fact she knew about such things gave him a flash of pride.

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