За разломом орла

           SomuchforGreta’sreassurancethatSuzywillremembernothingafterourabortedeffortsatwakingher. Seemsthathershort-termmemoryisn’tquiteasfallibleaswe’dlike. 

           "It’sfunnyyoushouldsaythat,"Itellher. "Because,actually,wearealittleoffcourse." 

           She’ssharperwitheverybreath.Suzywasalwaysthebestofusatcomingoutofthetank. 

           "Tellmehowfar,Thom." 

           "FartherthanI’dlike." 

           Sheballsherfists. Ican’ttellifit’saggression,orsomelingeringneuromusculareffectofhertimeinthetank. "Howfar?BeyondtheBubble?" 

           "BeyondtheBubble,yes." 

           Hervoicegrowssmallandchildlike. 

           "Tellme,Thom.AreweoutbeyondtheRift?" 

           Icanhearthefear. Iunderstandwhatshe’sgoingthrough.It’sthenightmarethatallshipcrewslivewithoneverytrip. Thatsomethingwillgowrongwiththerouting,somethingsoseverethatthey’llendupontheveryedgeofthenetwork. Thatthey’llendupsofarfromhomethatgettingbackwilltakeyears,notmonths. Andthat,ofcourse,yearswillhavealreadypassed,evenbeforetheybeginthereturntrip. 

           Thatlovedoneswillbeyearsolderwhentheyreachhome. 

           Ifthey’restillthere.Iftheystillrememberyou,orwanttoremember. Ifthey’restillrecognizable,oralive. 

           BeyondtheAquilaRift. It’sshorthandforthetripnooneeverhopestomakebyaccident. Theonethatwillscrewuptherestofyourlife,theonethatcreatestheghostsyouseehauntingtheshadowsofcompanybarsacrossthewholeBubble.