ref: b9fbb17c04e4ccfb2021dac818e514351ca8f646
dir: /troff/0609.ms/
.LP \& .ce .sp |4.25i .PP .ps 12 .CW ░ Space, 2047. .PP .ps 12 Piro was still dead. .PP .ps 12 Nowadays, Tom found himself marooned in an isolation cell of his own design. Solitary confinement, shipping himself back to DET\-86 aboard a miniaturized RAGNAROK shuttle he'd chiseled off from the main ship while she wasn't looking. He'd booked the flight himself, bereft beyond belief at his current status, re: dead relatives. Somehow, this would make it all better. .PP .ps 12 What did he imagine was waiting for him at the other end of his journey? .PP .ps 12 Unknown. .PP .ps 12 He pressed a button on his cell door that opened his tiny observation window. Snaked his arm through the hole, fishing for the exterior door handle. .PP .ps 12 Let himself out. .PP .ps 12 The craft was small. Minimal library. No auxiliary inputs. No galley. He rummaged under the seats for snacks, found his stash. .PP .ps 12 It was going to be a long trip. The shuttle refused to activate his visor, and so he remained effectively blind. But this couldn't stop him from thinking about the past. There was no one around to interrupt him. .PP .ps 12 His mind wandered back, to the late 1980s...