Moments after we landed in the spaceport, crews arrived to unload our cargo; on board, we were still getting ourselves ready to disembark and doing all we could to keep from forgetting anything. In the air, we had learned via radio that thus far there had been no epidemic-level outbreak of the virulent bacterium in Orian, thanks to the severe quarantine laws that had virtually confined the entire city of Milaca. We also learned that Leader Beren and Fer-innyera Orashean would be ready to meet us and that after a reception and debriefing at Headquarters, the crew could return to the Baidarka to collect the rest of their personal items and monitor the removal of the transported creatures and samples.
The radio communications officer Farron welcomed us home from the journey that had kept us away for eighteen years, two months, and thirty-seven days Tiasennian time before wishing us a brief congratulations and signing off. When the cargo door opened at the terminal, everyone gathered in the cargo bay hold moved out onto the platform and into the beautiful afternoon sunshine. Tears of joy and relief brimmed in their eyes, tears only a wanderer who has returned home after long years away can know.
However, our attention was immediately drawn to the edge of the platform where a row of dignified officers stood behind Fer-innyera Orashean and Leader Beren. Beren’s hair had turned completely white, Orashean’s was touched by a sprinkling of frost. The children beside us insisted on being allowed to keep their furry chirite companions with them on the ride to Headquarters, so one soldier ushered them into a special transport that would follow ours.
The Last Immortal : Book One of Seeds of a Fallen Empire Page 22