DEAR MOCKY, When you get this I’ll have taken off two hours ago. It’s a half hour before dawn and I want to talk to you, but I won’t wake you up again. I am, nostalgically enough, taking out Fobo’s old ship, the Rimbaud (the name was Muels’ idea, remember). At least, I’m familiar with it; lots of good memories here. I leave in twenty minutes. Present location: I’m sitting in a folding chair in the freight lock looking over the field. The sky is star speckled to the west, and gray to the east. Black needles of ships pattern around me. Lines of blue signal lights fade toward the south. It’s calm
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