Like a Fox on the Run

pillow of compressed, superheated air downward. And then, as soon as it had begun, it was over, the thin upper layers of the atmosphere resentfully conceded. Once more, he was reborn back into the fold, the prodigal child returning to that from whence he came, dust, air and water.
He couldn’t help but grin and shake his head. You’re hopeless! You know that? You should’ve been a poet. The grin quickly changed to a grimace. No one would ever guess what a hopeless romantic you are by the way your life turned out, would they?
Descending in a wide, lazy arc over the Atlantic, Jenny burst through the clouds and found a beautiful blue sky waiting. He pushed the throttle forward and those mighty engines came back to life with an appreciative roar. She surged forward eagerly, like a red-tailed hawk who’d just spotted a rabbit crossing an open field. He glanced out his port window and saw the tubular Admiral Shephard Memorial Elevator rising majestically upwards like the great Tower of Babel of old. Situated directly on the equator, on a man-made island just off the coast of South America, it was supposed to be the next greatest thing in aerospace travel. Grudgingly, he had to admit, it was indeed an impressive site, even if he hated the thought of what it would do to major spaceports like Huntsville. From his vantage point, it merely looked like a giant’s drinking straw thrust into the brilliant, blue ocean. In reality, it was over three miles in diameter. When it reached the midpoint, and connected with the section being constructed downward from the space end, it would have a total length of over sixty-five miles. Once completed, it would be used to transport people and material to and from a massive docking facility, reducing suborbital gridlock, fuel costs from blastoffs and, of course, more jobs within the next decade. Technology … isn’t it wonderful? Thankfully, that was years away. On the other side of the world, off the coast of Indonesia, another elevator was also being constructed for the Far East.
As he came up on the Southeastern Economic Zone (SEEZ) of the United States, he fed the landing coordinates into Jenny’s NavCom and then fell back into his padded seat, reclining it back fully and throwing his booted legs atop the control panel, crossing them at the ankles.
“You mean you’re going to actually let me fly myself?” A pleasant female voice filled the cabin, the tone tinged with mock disbelief.
“Don’t get used to it,” he smiled lazily. “I’m still the man of the ship around here.”
“I’ll take what I can get.” There was an almost childish glee in her voice as she banked the ship slightly to correct the descent.
“My kind of female,” Tiger replied, forcing a smile. “One that knows her place!”
“Watch it, mister!” she sassed back. “A slight yaw or pitch from me at the wrong time, and you’ll be an ember in the wind!”
“I love it when you get feisty!” Tiger enjoyed the playful banter with his ship’s self-aware programming. Over the past twelve years, the computer had gradually molded its personality around his, and not surprisingly, they got along marvelously. He’d deliberately ignored her subtle adjustment. Deep down, he knew she could fly herself far better than he ever could. Knowing it was one thing. Admitting it out loud … never!
Even so, he couldn’t deny he was old school. He thought a pilot should pilot. That’s what’s wrong with this new generation of pilots. They’re more sightseers than pilots. Most days, he hated conceding anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary to Jenny, but it had been a long, inbound flight. He was tired and ready for a little R & R, terra firma style. He needed a hot shower and shave, a clean change of clothes, and some real female companionship; things few and far between out in the Belt.
Before re-entry, he’d deposited a load of plutonium ore at the collecting station of one the huge orbital shipyards, Weiss & Sons Shipbuilding. Located 250 miles above Earth, dozens of ships were being constructed here at any given time. Everything from tugs and private yachts to freighters and luxury liners.
And now, the construction docks included the Galileo, one of the massive generation ships of the New Exodus Interstellar Project. Talk about a site to behold, five kilometers long and two kilometers in diameter. When finished, it would be more a city with a propulsion system than a spaceship. It would contain a small forest, gardening areas, parks and lakes and even an artificial river.
But hey, the folks hitching a ride on these bad boys ought to have nothing but the best. After all, they were getting a one-way ticket. Once these behemoths were finished, they would be traipsing off into deep space in hopes of finding other habitable systems light years from Earth. They would never see Earth or anybody they now knew, family, friends, co-workers, ever again. Some would take their entire families with them. Other would find mates and form new families during their journey. This was important, for procreation was an absolute necessity. For this reason, the crews were being assembled with a sixty/forty female to male ratio. They were simply starting the journey. That’s why they called them generation ships. If anything was ever actually found out there, it would be their great or great-great grandkids who would get the glory. Nobody alive at the launch would ever see their assignment come to fruition.
That is, if it ever did. It had been tried once already and the results had been catastrophic. Six hundred people vanishing without a trace.
Yeah, well, that was their thing. Right now, he was all about his thing. And his thing was a relaxing three-day weekend back in his hometown. The ore deposit meant some much-needed spending points credited to his PayPoint account. Definitely enough to get him by