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Shuttle rides are boring. This is a fact of life; every traveler who's ever been on an inter-colony or atmo-breaking trip knows this. But it is, perhaps, especially boring when you know exactly what this engine can do (not as much as many machines, but a lot more than this commercial pilot is asking of it) and which trajectories it could take to L4 (several, of which this is the most staid that has any speed at all). Trowa keeps himself occupied with his computer, and tries not to spend too much time mentally calculating alternative routes and contingency plans for various attacks that will never come. He doesn't expect them, but it's something to do. And it never hurts to be prepared.

When they dock, he waits through the excessively slow cross-check -- double-checks and triple-checks are how you keep your equipment in order and yourself alive, but this crew's clearly never done this under fire -- and then slings his duffel bag over his shoulder and files dutifully off the shuttle with the other passengers. Time for the Immigration And Visitor Registration paperwork. Trowa tells them the truth, nowadays, although occasionally in rather targeted wording.

All that's ahead after that is a much shorter (and, privately, less irritating) trip by ground transport to the rich district of this colony. He'll call Quatre when he's close.

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Trowa Barton

December 2012

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