   X E N O M O R P H   -   T H E   S T O R Y

        The fresh glass of beer in front of me was my third, and already I
was enjoying myself.  I took a mouthful of the sweet brew and returned
to the conversation.
        'That was the old Hypersleep 2-21s.  They don't make those
anymore,' Zena was saying.
        'Still,' I shrugged, 'At least they were better than the Zion 14s.
Remember the BEIJING SAN?'
        'What happened to the BEIJING SAN?' Sam Ansell looked worried.  I
could swear he had turned a shade whiter since we started drinking.  It
was his fault really.  He should know better than to ask a couple of
star jockeys like Zena and myself about intersteller travel.  He was
making his first trip out in the morning and wanted a little
reassurance.  Could we help allay his fears?
        How could we refuse?  He had bought the first round after all.  I
had started with the old story about the XP-17A, which he had heard
anyway.  I embellished it slightly, mentioning that since then onboard
sensors had occasionally caught sight of the missing test flight while
in the Big Empty.
        That lead onto to other missing flights.  We had since moved onto
malfunctions in the cryogenics.  The BEIJING SAN was quite a good one,
if a little fantastic.
        'Well, nobody really knows,' said Zena. 'The BEIJING SAN turned up
at Procyon on schedule but something had gone wrong with the freezers.'
        'The Zion 14s?'
        'Exactly.  Nobody knows how they malfunctioned, but instead of
freezing the crew, the 14s cooked them instead.  Eighteen months of slow
cooking reduced everyone to a thick reddish slime.  It was disgusting.'
        'But I wouldn't worry about that,' I added seeing Sam's face turn a
shade whiter.  'We haven't lost anyone in the freezers for about three
years now.  They're perfectly safe.  Don't worry.'  I hid a smile in my
beer.
        This was fun.  I was glad I accepted Zena's invite for a last drink
before my trip.  It promised to be spectacularly dull - a routine drop
to a bunch of grubby miners in the Sirius system.
        That was tomorrow, for now we were propped up in Roxy's, one of two
gravity bars in the Vetz orbital dockyard complex.  We sat by the window
overlooking a shadowed earth below us.
        'Well.  You could cop out.'  Zena casually took a swig from her
glass, waiting for Sam to take the bait.
        He did not disappoint her, 'Cop out?  What does that means?'
        'Cross Over Psychosis.  C-O-P.  Cop out,' she said, as if that
explained everything.
        Sam still looked blank, so I elaborated.  'You see the Big Empty
drives you mad.  Scramble your-'  I stopped, seeing the blank look on
his face.
        'The Big Empty?'
        Zena sighed.  'Hyperspace.'
        He nodded knowingly.  It had dozens of names: hyperspace, warp,
nullspace, jump, spaceminus, spaceplus.  That mystery region of
imaginary physics beyond Crossover which permitted mankind access to the
stars.
        'Call it what you will, it's the Big Empty to us.  You see,' she
stared straight into his blue eyes, 'There's nothing there.'
        He stared back, locked by those entrancing eyes.
        'Anyhow,' I said a mite testily, 'the Big Empty scrambles your
brains.  The effect has been known about ever since the first tests.
That's why we have the freezers.  Didn't you learn about this?'
        Sam coughed embarrassedly.  'No, I never expected to leave the
Halkan Services metroplex.'
        'So what are you doing out here?  What do you want with a hell hole
like Edenia?'
        'I'm escorting the new third generation Tashita Central Nervous
System to Halkan on Edenia.  I'm an analyst, but I can perform the
required hardware surgery in a pinch.  I wasn't supposed to go, but the
girl I'm replacing was arrested yesterday.'
        Third generation CNS was new to me.  My last ship was fitted with a
first generation system, I didn't even know there had been a second.
That was the only problem with jockeying.  You spend so long away from
civilization that everything changed.  Still, the money was good.
        'You were telling me about cop out,' prompted Sam.
        'Yeah, right.  Where was I?  Oh yes, the Big Empty.  Well, it
affects something in the brain.  It's something to do with mylar coating
on the nerves, or something like that.  Anyway, you go vegetable if you
don't freeze, it's as simple as that.'
        I finished my drink and called over the barkeep.  Sam must have
figured that we were only jestering, he had finally finished his first
glass.
        'However,' Zena said as I ordered another round, 'Big Empty can
still hit you in the freezers.  You're supposed to be safe, but there's
always that small percentage that you're going to cop out.  There was
that guy on the MIDNIGHT ICE.  He thought there was little green men
living inside his head, so he tried to chop his skull open to get them
out.  Cop out.'
        'So much of it depends on the ship,' I said, handing out the beer.
'Which one you booked with?'
        'Ah, the ADLER.'
        Zena sat back and laughed, 'Well, you've got no worries there then.
That's a German ship - she won't fail on you.'
        'Mind you, the ship maybe safe but the food certainly isn't.  I'd
slip straight into the freezers and avoid the pre-freeze meal if I were
you.'  The Germans were great engineers but lousy cooks.
        Sam shifted on his stool.  'So, don't you worry?  I mean, with all
those terrible things that can go wrong.  Don't you ever think that your
next trip might be your last.'
        'Not really,' answered Zena.  'Ships are getting safer everytime.
I mean, you go out on a three year round trip and when you get back you
get a new ship that's three years more reliable.'
        'Not only that,' I added, 'but you won't find a star jockey without
his lucky St. Kopek.'
        'The patron saint of spacemen,' he smiled.  He knew that one.
        I reached around my neck and pinched through the cord around my
neck with my nails.  I pulled the cord and the medallion out and rolled
the severed ends of the cord between my fingers.  In moments they had
healed so there was no scar.  Cellular plastic, one of the new wonders
surprising me this time.  I wondered what would change when I return
again in two years.
        I passed the medallion over to Sam.  'Three kinds of beans,' he
read.  He flipped it over to see the three coffee beans on the other
side.  He looked at Zena, 'Have you got one?'
        'Of course, a tattoo.  But I'm not showing you here,' she raised
her eyebrows suggestively.
        I felt a faint tinge of jealousy as he smiled briefly and blushed.
Tugging mu medallion away from his grasp, I slipped it around my neck
and glanced at my wrist implant.  'It's time I made a move.  Early start
in the morning.'  I tipped my head back and emptied my glass, then
stood.
        'Hey, hold on-' said Sam.
        'Yes.  Just one more drink.  I'll get it.'  Zena looked around for
the barkeep and tried to catch his eye.  I returned to my stool.
        'So, where are you going?'
        'Sirius,' I said once I settled down again.  'Supply run to an
Essen mining platform, the ATARGATIS.  Year out, year back.  Sleepwalk.'
        'On the MOMBASSA OAK, did you say?'  Zena finally caught the
barkeep's eye.  'Isn't that an old Vetz design?'
        'The 33a,' I told her.  'It's being scrapped after this run.  I
cast an eye over her last week.  They're doing some serious work kitting
her out for this job.'  I looked over to Sam, 'I'm getting a first
generation CNS-e7.  Anything I should know?'
        He shrugged, 'Not really.  They're pretty reliable.  Take care of
itself.'
        'Well there's a surprise,' I said sarcastically.  'Like everything
else.  We're nothing more than janitors, you know.  We don't do
anything.  The ship takes off, navigates itself through the Big Empty
and docks at the other end.  I don't have to press so much as a single
button.  Sometimes I just-'
        'No,' said Zena sharply.  'Don't wish or it might come true.  Ah,
here are the drinks.'  She started to take them from the barkeep.
        'Sirius,' mulled Sam.  'Isn't that a double star?'
        I shrugged.  It didn't matter to me.  One destination was pretty
much like any other.  Black, empty and cold.
        'You going to Sirius?'
        I looked at the barkeep and nodded.
        'ATARGATIS?'  He said it with a thick accent that I couldn't place.
        'Yeah.  Why?'
        'You supply ship?'
        'Yeah.  So?'
        'SHADOWFAITH left for Sirius five months back.' He turned to leave.
        'Whoa,' called Zena, halting him. 'How do you know?'
        'Crew here.  Drink.  Talk.' The barkeep left.
        I looked down at my drink and thought.  SHADOWFAITH was Osaka's
ship.  What was one of the Essen board members doing at a tiny mining
outpost in a dead end system?
        Sam coughed, 'I heard rumours recently.  Through Halkan.'
        I looked up at Sam, 'Rumours about what?'
        'Osaka was buying weaponry recently.  State of the art firepower.
Sonita 12.64mm Close Assault Weapons.  Optik Laboratories 70 Megawatt
Auto-Lasers.  Heavy stuff.'
        Zena stared incredulously, 'It's just a mining platform.  What do
they want with all that hardware?'
        'Rumour around Halkan had it that Essen had discovered some form of
actuated liquid superconductor.  Chezalure Chemicals had somehow got
wind of it.  I think you'll find the SPIRIT OF ST LOUIS headed out that
way just before Osaka left.'
        I rolled my eyes ceilingwards.  I hoped I wasn't walking into a
warzone.  That would be fun.
        'Great.  Anything else to cheer me up?'
        'Just getting my own back,' he smiled smugly.
        Zena looked at him and raised an eyebrow.
        'For those horror stories,' he elaborated.  'You had me there for a
moment,' he added seeing Zena smile mischievously.
        'So,' she said, 'We embellished them a little.  Here and there.'
        'If you want some fun, get hold of CROSSOVER by a guy called
Smythe.  It's superb for lurid accidents and mysterious happenings.  You
can get great reactions from idly dropping them in casual conversation.'
I laughed, 'What we've said is the tip of the iceberg.'
        He suddenly looked a little less certain.
        'Perhaps,' I added. 'You had best read it upon your return.'  I
stood, 'Now, I really must get away.'  I finished my drink and left Zena
and Sam behind.  I weaved through the almost empty bar and out into the
corridor.  Now, could I get to my quarters without entering a zero-gee
area?  The Vetz dockyards had changed a little since I had been here
last and I doubted I could managed to find my way back at all.  I
consulted a wallmap and eventually found myself a route that I could
walk.
        A de-tox tab would prevent a hangover in the morning.  I popped one
in the communal bathroom and splashed water on my face.  It was a shame
the de-tox took so long to act.  Head swimming in a thick syrup, I
stumbled to my coffin sized quarters and fell asleep.
        Unfortunately, there was no way of avoiding the zero-gees in the
morning.  I had to catch the shuttle that would ferry me over to the
MOMBASSA OAK, and that meant zero gravity.  I packed slowly, trying to
delay the inevitable moment.  It's really embarrassing.  Space nausea is
suffered by dirtsiders, not experienced spacers.  My other patron saint
is whoever invented artificial gravity.  I could not have been on of
those early astronauts (Hell, they didn't even have Kopek watching over
them).
        I stood at the door between the two sections and took a deep
breath.  Reaching down I peeled of the soles of my shoes, revealing the
velcrose layer beneath.  I shoved the soles in a ziptight pocket on my
kitbag, and slung it over my shoulder out of harms way.  Moving forward,
the door opened automatically and I stepped out into nausea.
        As usual, I felt fine at first but after a few minutes I began to
feel queasy.  I walked dead straight along the 'bottom' of the corridor.
Others walked along the walls and ceiling, ignoring my discomfort.  The
sound of footsteps was replaced by the risp-rasp of repeating velcrose.
And the pounding of my heart.
        I should be used to this.  I've been a spacer 18 years now.  Ah
but, I told myself, at least thirteen of those have been asleep.  That
left five years, most of which was spent in artificial gravity.  So I
suppose my space sickness was not that shameful.  Still, it was
embarrassing.
        It was none too soon before I strapped myself into the comforting,
padded acceleration couch on the shuttle.  It was not compulsory - we
would not be accelerating anywhere fast.  It was pyschologically
comforting though.
        'You okay?' The pilot twisted around to watch me strap myself in.
He looked older than I did but his shoulder patch only indicated eight
years of service.  Hell, anyone with eight years of service was older
than me.  I supposedly had ten years experience on him, but had only
lived five of those.
        'I'm fine.  Just a touch of space sickness.'
        He grinned and turned away.  I listened idly to the professional
banter between him and traffic control and breathed a sigh of relief as
a faint pressure against my back told me we were moving.
        The view outside slowly rotated until we were facing the western
drydocks.  The MOMBASSA OAK was out there, somewhere.  The pilot guided
us gently through ratlines and crowded space.  Spacers on flybuggies
darted past.  Robots tugging lumps of machinery drifted towards half
completed ships.  New ships, not like mine.
        'See that one,' the pilot pointed towards a half completed ship in
the nearest drydock.  'That's going to be the new FLY BY NIGHT.  She's
going to be one mother of a mover.'  There was awe in his voice.
        I craned my neck to get a better view.  Sure, the FLY BY NIGHT was
going to be an impressive ship by any standards.  I could tell this
already.  The drives were shrouded from view, but the crew section was
open to view.  Heavily plated, the nose of the ship had a feral,
dangerous line.
        'She's going to be fast.  They say she's got some experimental
Crossover Drive.  Expected to do Barnard's Run in under three months.'
        I whistled appreciatively.  That was fast, knocking over a month
off the best times.  I looked harder at the unfinished ship.  Specks of
light reflected off robots and dockers working on her.  I noticed a dark
shape of a patrol droid floating protectively near the shrouded drive
section.  I doubted it was alone.  Vetz was keeping this one under
wraps.
        I watched until we drifted from sight, then turned my attention on
what appeared to be a piece of metallic driftwood.  The MOMBASSA OAK was
not a pretty craft by anyone's standards.  The Vetz 33a was not an
elegant design at the best of times, but the MOMBASSA OAK had been
retrofitted on numerous occasions and her original lines could only
just be discerned beneath a mass of additional equipment.
        The MOMBASSA OAK had been tugged out of her drydock and sat in open
space, just waiting for her skipper.  Me.  The supply pod dwarfed the
ship by comparison.  It locked onto a dorsal mount, above the OAK's
massive drive section and was at least ten time the length of my fifty
metre ship.  There, I was already calling her 'my' ship.
        If the MOMBASSA OAK looked like nothing more than a piece of metal
and plastic space debris, the pod looked like a long bloated sack.
Blisters and warts decorated what might have been an elegantly tubular
surface.  One particularly unsightly mess towards its end was the
Crossover Booster, ensuring that the Crossover field stretched tight
around the pod.
        Together, the OAK and pod looked like a vast queen termite loaded
with eggs.  As a drone approaches its queen, we slowly crept closer to
the massive ship.  The pilot concentrated on the controls, recieving
information from his onboard.  With a slight nudge we mated.
        I scrambled out of the couch and pushed through to the docking
ring.  There was gravity aboard the MOMBASSA OAK.
        'Welcome aboard, Skipper,' said a black girl with 'Smith F.J.'
stencilled above her breast pocket and three years service on her
shoulder.
        'Thank you Smith. F.J.' I said with more feeling than was
necessary.  I had weight again.
        She laughed, 'It's Fiona, please.  Let me show you around.'
        'You can go if you like.  I'm sure I can find my way.'
        'Maybe,' she said opening the pressure door to the interior, 'But I
had best show you around anyway.'
        I followed her through, relishing the sensation of weight again.
Tossing my kitbag on a bunk, I sat myself beside it and replaced the
soles on my shoes.
        'Okay,' Fiona popped open a panel revealing a mass of circuitry.
'This is where we've hidden the CNS.  Do you want to give it a name?'
        'No, Computer will do.'
        'Okay.' She reached over and tapped buttons on the command panel.
'CNS-e7. Keyword is 'Computer'.'
        'Keyword is Computer,' repeated the sexless voice.
        'I can do this myself you know,' I said.
        'Ah, I guess you can.'  Fiona popped the panel closed and shrugged.
'If you have any difficulties the manual is in the infeed.'      She pulled
open the hardcopy feed to reveal a mass of paper.  'It's pretty
reliable, so I doubt you'll need it.'
        She walked past me to something I didn't recognise.  'This is the
non-standard piece of kit.  It's a dispenser for stuff from the cargo
pod.  Anything you want, just ask for.  There's five years worth of
supplies for two hundred and fourteen people in there, so I doubt
there's anything it can't supply.  There's a list on file if you need
it.'
        I watched, then my eye caught sight of something else and I started
rummaging through my kitbag.  Fiona, looking through the viewscreen at
the orbital dockyards, had not noticed.
        'And that's about it.  Ah, no.  Except for one more thing.  Now,
where is she?'  Fiona started opening lockers, hunting for something.
        I ignored her and concentrated on a gleaming white appliance in the
corner.  Standard equipment on any spaceship, intersteller or otherwise.
There was more feeling generated by this one item than any other,
including Crossover Drive.  If the Kopek patent zero-gee coffee
percolator failed, the ship failed.  It was the coffee that ran the
ships, not the Crossover Drive.
        I slotted my own supply of coffee into the machine and waited.
Lights flickered green, but the real proof was in the tasting.  While I
waited something nudged my leg.  I looked down to see green eyes framed
by smoky grey fur.  The ship's cat.
        'Ah, I see you've found Hydrant.'
        I knelt and scratched the cat behind the ears.  'Well Hydrant, are
you a boy or a girl?'
        'Girl,' supplied Fiona.  Hydrant said nothing, as was the way of
cats.
        'That's about it, I think.  Time I went.  Have a good trip.'
        'Thanks,' I muttered absently.  The coffee was almost ready.
        Behind me the pressure door slid open and shut as Fiona stepped
back into the shuttle.  As I took my first sip of the piping hot liquid
a low clank echoed through the ship.  The shuttle had left.  I sat in
the command couch with my feet on the console, watching the shuttle
disappear into the drydock maze.  Hydrant sat on my lap, washing
herself.
        'Computer.'
        'Yes skipper?'
        'I think it's time we left.  Run diagnostics.'
        'Running.' the CNS replied.
        I didn't really have to tell the computer to do that, but it was
reassuring to actually do something on board.  A row of lights lit a
uniform green on a board above me.
        'Diagnostic run and complete.  All systems functional.' the CNS
said unnecessarily.
        'Okay, let's go.'
        'Interfacing with flight control.  Prepare for acceleration.
Countdown Running.  Three, two, one, go.'
        Almost imperceptibly the low background hum deepened as the
reaction drive pushed the ship out of orbit towards Crossover.  Vetz
dockyard slid past slowly as the MOMBASSA OAK started its one year
voyage to another star.
        'Adios,' I said softly.
        I didn't do anything for the first couple of hours except stare out
of the viewscreen.  Not that there was much to do anyway.  We could
reach Crossover point in two days.  I could go straight to sleep now,
but I preferred to stay awake as long as possible, checking and double
checking.  The yards might have given the OAK a clean bill of health,
but they weren't the ones trusting their lives to it.


3 JANUARY 2134.  FIRST DAY OF VOYAGE.

ALL SYSTEMS GREEN

        I couldn't think of anything else to put in the log.  I had spent a
couple of hours checking my freezer, but it checked out green.  There
were three other freezers, relics from back when a crew of four was
carried as standard.  Back when the companies realised that they were
paying four people too much for doing too little.  The three other
freezers were old but serviceable.  One was littered with cat hairs.  No
guessing which was Hydrant's.
        Highlight of the second day was an unplanned spacewalk.  I didn't
have to do it, but it made a change.  The dispenser had developed a
glitch.  I asked for drypack pizza and got a pair of size 44 mining
boots.  They didn't even fit.
        I found one fault in the hardware - one of the pop-chips had come
loose.  I pressed it back home and dialled another pizza but something
must have caused a blockage.  I could have sent one of the robot drones
out to take a look, but I was restless already.  The CNS located the
blockage quickly enough and it looked an easy job.
        Sure enough, it took me little more than an hour, most of which was
spent sightseeing.  The blockage itself was a couple of pizza, the ones
I had ordered.  They were jammed in the delivery chute running between
the cargo pod and the dispenser aboard the OAK.

4 JANUARY 2134.  SECOND DAY OF VOYAGE

MINOR HARDWARE FAILURE IN DISPENSER UNIT CAUSING CHUTE BLOCKAGE.
DIAGNOSED AND REPAIRED SUCCESSFULLY.  ALL SYSTEMS GREEN.

The rest of the day I composed letters to various friends and relatives
and fired them back to Vetz for posting.  I watched an old movie before
hitting the sack.  It was one I brought with me, and one I had seen
several times already.  There was surprisingly few movies in the pod,
until I realised earlier ones would have been taken when the miners
first went out.  All the entertainment packages aboard were under two
years old.
        That night I had a dream about two ships linked fatally by threads
of lethal green and red.  An imaginary space battle between the
SHADOWFAITH and the SPIRIT OF ST LOUIS.  I awoke in a sweat and hunted
for the weaponry locker.  I checked the Armstrong 35 MW hand laser and
tried it out on the mining boots, blasting them to slag.  Pity the power
cell was only half charged.
        Four hours from Crossover and it was time to go to sleep.  I ran a
quick eye over the Crossover drive, but it was beyond me.  I knew where
the antimatter pellets were loaded, but that was about it.  All the
lights were green, and that was good enough for me.

5 JANUARY 2134.  THIRD DAY OF VOYAGE

APPROACHING CROSSOVER.  ANOTHER MINOR GLITCH IN DISPENSER, BUT OTHERWISE
ALL SYSTEMS GREEN.

I discovered the glitch as when I ordered the pre-freeze meal the
dispenser delivered considerably more than I had asked for.  Hydrant and
I both ate well, and there was plenty left over.  I didn't worry about
the glitch.  I was quite happy for it to deliver more than I asked for.
        After the meal it was time for the big chill.  I knew better than
to try and put a freezerbag on an alert Hydrant, so I put her to sleep
first before bagging her up and shoving her in the freezer.  With greens
all over her board I started to undress.
        I sat in the freezer, with the freezerbag as far as my waist.  I
held the syringe in my hand and aimed carefully.  I don't know what is
in the junk they pump into you, but it leaves a little black circle.
Spacers love them, scars of their profession.  I had arranged mine into
a small pattern on my arm.  This sixth formed the last of a hexagon.
Others did things differently, Zena, I knew, was creating a lewd join-
the-dots picture on her thigh.
        The syringe had to stay for the duration, allowing the CNS to pump
me full of all sorts of drugs if I went critical.  It had been known.  I
taped the syringe to my arm and pulled the freezerbag over my head,
sealing it shut.  Tubes snaked out from the bag and into the freezer,
one carrying my syringe feed.
        I lay down and the freezer hood sealed over me.  'Good night
computer.'
        There was no reply.  I started to feel tired, closed my eyes and
fell asleep.
        Three hundred and ninety-one days and eight point seven light years
later, I woke up.
        Everything was cold.  My arm was aching where the hypodermic had
injected me with something to wake me up.  But why was it so cold?  I
opened my eyes to see red lights everywhere.  Emergency!
        The freezer hood had already swung open and I sat upwards and tore
the freezerbag away.  I was in no mind for being tidy - the CNS needed a
damn good reason to put me through emergency defrost.  I was not about
to hang about tidying up.  The freezing jelly had not yet drained away
and it splashed liberally across the deck as I leapt for the nearest
pressure suit.
        'Computer, what's going on?' I grunted, still groggy from the
abrupt waking.  I could faintly smell burning.
        'I hurt,' came the reply.
        I hurt?  What kind of programming was that?  I scanned the console
while struggling into a pressure suit.  Pressure had not yet been lost,
but if this was a real emergency it could go any second.  The console
was littered with little red lights.  What had happened?
        My mind reached back and dragged forth memories of a dream about a
battle between the SHADOWFAITH and the SPIRIT OF ST LOUIS.  I almost
shouted my surrender at that point, but that would have been foolish.
'Computer, scan area.'
        'Scanning...' There was a brief pause while I clicked my helmet
into place.  'Nothing in range -kipper.'
        I looked in concern at the computer, 'Where are we?'
        'C-Crossover point.'
        'Run diagnostic.'
        'Running.  Crossover Drive malfunction.  -ooster Drive failed.
Cargo still in Big Empty.  Resulting energy surge d-damaged Crossover
Drive.  Secondary power -estroyed.  CNS fatally -ounded.  Background
silicon -eriation setting in.  Backup components failed.'
        I swore.  That made me feel better, so I swore again.  At least it
wasn't battle damage, so I would not have to contend with anything so
friendly as a boarding party.  Heat from the suit began to filter
through to my cold flesh.  All that was missing was coffee.
        'Computer, have we enough fuel to reach ATARGATIS?'
        'Confirmed.'
        'Are the reaction drives still functioning?'
        'Confirmed.'
        'Are we on rendezvous course?'
        'Confirmed.'
        That was something.  'Estimated time of arrival?'
        'Two point four days.'
        Excellent.  Now I had to get in touch with them.  They would have
enough parts to get me back.  I only hoped they had enough supplies to
last them another two years.  I doubted it, but perhaps they had enough
freezers.  I doubted that as well.  This fateful voyage was probably
their death knell.
        'Computer, cancel mayday.'  The distress call was automatic and
would have sounded immediately the CNS registered the malfunction.  The
ATARGATIS should have been responding by now though.
        'Distress call not sent.  Transmiss- damaged.'
        'Great,' I muttered.  I still needed a coffee and programmed the
Kopek before starting my own tour of damage inspection.  The computer
panel that Fiona had checked when I arrived proved to be a real mess and
the source of the smouldering I could smell.  I slid out the circuit
boards and looked forlornly at the chips.  All sorts had gone, not least
of which was the navigation routines.  Without that there was no way of
getting back through Crossover and to home.  Still, ATARGATIS would have
that sort of stuff.
        Several other chips were obviously fried, and if background silicon
deterioration (whatever that was) was setting in then I could expect
more to go.  There should be a chip-analyser somewhere aboard the
MOMBASSA OAK.  Intelligently enough, it was sitting behind the adjacent
panel.  With my coffee by my side, I sat on the floor and proceeded to
check the chips.
        I would have to check them again later, but for now I definitely
knew I needed the navigation chip, the Crossover power-regulation chip,
and the freezer control chip.
        That done I cast an eye over the drive.  The lights were green and
it looked okay.  Still, it would be best if I asked one of the
ATARGATIS's crew to check it over.  I didn't know what use the mining
platform had for antimatter pellets, but I certainly needed a few more.
I had half a canister left, which would throw me a couple of light
years.  I need at least two more.
        Some of the freezers were damaged.  I was lucky, Hydrant was less
fortunate.  I left her there for the moment.  I'd do something about her
later.
        Food was a bit of a problem.  All that I had to eat was the remains
of the pre-freezer meal, and only that which I left in its drypak.  A
pizza, three sandwiches and two tins of prime catfood.  Not a feast to
set before a king, but it would keep me alive.
        The artificial gravity was still working, which meant there was
nothing wrong with the reaction drive.  There was obviously nothing
wrong with the pressure.  The failure had not ruptured the hull, a fact
for which I was eternally grateful.  More than a couple of hours in a
pressure suit is enough for anyone to cop out.
        Which left the radio, which I had to repair.
        It turned out to be really trivial.  I checked the physical
components after persuading the CNS to tell me where they were.  They
checked out and eventually I traced the fault to the antenna outside.
The diagnostic chip had given up the ghost long before I found it.  I
didn't mind.  A little hard work wasn't doing this janitor any harm.
        I suited up and went for a spacewalk.  The missing cargo pod
shocked me.  It had seemed so familiar and reassuring on my last trip
outside.  I studied the torn and twisted mountings before turning away.
As I did, something caught my eye - a package somehow wedged under the
broken dispenser.  It was a drypak cactus.  I couldn't think of anything
more useless, and tossed it into the inky darkness.
        'Well, there's another one for the Crossover.'
        The unfamiliar stars barely fazed me, but the huge gas giant in the
distance did.  I had forgotten about that.  A brown dwarf, or something.
Why on earth was it called a brown dwarf when it was so radiantly blue?
I eventually dragged my gaze away and scrambled over the ship to where
the antenna was pointing towards the still invisible ATARGATIS.  The
broken connection was easy to find and took only a moment to weld tight.
        I chinned the mike, 'MOMBASSA OAK to ATARGATIS.  Come in ATARGATIS,
this is MOMBASSA OAK.'
        I waited several minutes, but there was no reply.  Perhaps the
radio was still broken?  Still, I should have been getting incoming
calls.  Surely they would have spotted me by now?
        'MOMBASSA OAK to ATARGATIS,' I repeated a little more desperately.
Why didn't they respond?
        It puzzled me, but not enough to stay out here.  The thought of
another coffee spurred my actions onwards and in a few minutes I was
through the airlock and out of the suit.  Moments after that I was
relaxing in the acceleration couch with my feet up and a coffee in my
hands.  Suddenly the problem of not being able to contact the mining
platform did not seem so urgent.  It was probably a faulty transmitter
on their part.
        I tried again to raise them, without success.  Worries gradually
crept in again.  Why weren't they answering?  Perhaps the SPIRIT OF ST
LOUIS had destroyed the platform.
        'Computer, run me a visual scan of ATARGATIS, as much detail as you
can give me.'
        '-firmed.'
        At least the CNS was still taking orders.  I wondered how long that
would last.  The scan would take a while to build up in a detailed
image, so I decided to attend to Hydrant.
        There's a popular myth perpetuated by the movie industry that
spacers traditionally bury their dead in space, leaving them to float
eternally in the heavens.  It doesn't work like that, but I honestly
couldn't think of anything else to do with Hydrant.  I scooped her
lifeless body out of the lukewarm gloop and dumped it in an airlock.  I
said a few dumb words then hit the manual override, opening the outer
doors.  She was gone.

31 JANUARY 2135.  THREE HUNDREDTH AND NINETY-FOURTH DAY OF VOYAGE.

SEVERE MALFUNCTION IN CROSSOVER DRIVE.  CARGO LOST, CNS FAILING.  FUEL
LOW.  AM UNABLE TO REACH ESSEN MINING PLATFORM ATARGATIS, THEY DON'T
RESPOND.  ATARGATIS APPEARS UNDAMAGED.  SHIP'S CAT DIED IN FREEZER
MALFUNCTION, BURIED AT SEA.

        Sure enough the image had shown the base to be perfectly intact.
No battle damage was evident.  Perhaps they had all gone stir crazy?
Why didn't they respond?
        After I had slept I started theorising wildly.  Perhaps UFOs had
visited them and carted them all away?  Perhaps the SPIRIT OF ST LOUIS
had boarded and taken the ATARGATIS?  Perhaps I had copped out after
all?
        To relieve the boredom, and to take my mind away from the
increasing strange ideas I hunted through the library for information on
Atargatis and Sirius.
        Sirius was a double-system.  Sirius-A was a type A-1 star.
Sirius-B was a more interesting A7 white dwarf.  Each orbited the other
about a common centre.  The rest of the system was fairly dull, a
collection of rocks, ice and gas giants.  The platform was located on
something called a shepherding satellite, part of an ancient world which
had been torn apart by tidal forces.  The rest of the world was
scattered in the brown dwarf's orbit.  Damn clever whoever it was that
had figured all this out.  They even reckoned that the world had an
atmosphere.
        I forwarded through the technical stuff, it was all Greek to me
anyway.  Following that were a couple of legends about the 'Dog Star'.
The funniest was about a tribe of ancient Africans that believed a bunch
of intelligent frogs had descended from Sirius and told them what a
wonderful place it was.  Their knowledge of the double system was quite
uncanny - the Africans down (they called themselves the Doggon tribe)
apparantly knew about it long before a guy named Bessel announced the
presence of Sirius-B in 1844.  Weird.
        Over my second coffee of the day I browsed through the data on
ATARGATIS.  It was a standard Essen construction, modular design and
built by Essen VN-II von Neumann machines.  Work had started five years
ago and was ready to start production a year after that.
        The ATARGATIS mined a Bipolar Cobalt Lattice which was essential
for the new level of theoretically intelligent CNS computers.  The
Lattice could be produced in the laboratory, but only minute quantities
as it required incredible pressures, staggering temperatures, and a very
long time.  The material crystallized at an agonisingly slow rate.  To
get the crystal the size of a pinhead would take something in the order
of five thousand years.
        Crystals the size of thumbnails had been found by an Essen probe on
the shepherd.  Theorists predicted crystals the size of footballs deeper
in the satellite, and maybe on other rocks as well.  No wonder Essen had
set up on ATARGATIS.
        As yet, there had been no further exploration, but the file said it
was a future possibility if the ATARGATIS was a success.
        I called up the plans and browsed through them.  It seemed as
everything I needed, the chips and the fuel would be there.  The food
was bound to be there, two hundred men had to eat something.  They still
didn't answer my call for help, but I had given up thinking of reasons.
I'd find out tomorrow.

1ST FEBRUARY 2135.  THREE HUNDRED AND NINETY-FIFTH DAY OF VOYAGE.

CNS DETERIORATING.  ATARGATIS STILL REFUSES TO BREAK RADIO SILENCE.
FOOD VERY LOW.

        In fact, I had eaten the first of the tins of catfood just before I
slept.  I was saving the second for later and was beginning to look
forward to it.  It wasn't all that bad, certainly tastier than the
drypack sandwiches.  Probably more nutritious too.
        I could see the shepherding satellite when I awoke.  I could also
see that the MOMBASSA OAK had inherited some unwelcome stabilization
problems.
        'Computer, we're spinning.'
        '-n.-.-rol.'
        Damn, the computer was just about dead.  'Computer, give me
control,' I ordered.
        No reply.
        'Computer,' I shouted. 'Give me control.'
        'Y-you...-ontrol.'
        Thank you.  'I have control,' I confirmed.
        The controls were dead, the computer had not heard me.  'I have
control,' I shouted desperately.  The spin was increasing.
        'Confirmed.'  The controls suddenly responded and I was flying the
MOMBASSA OAK alone.  Calling on skills I hadn't used in years I brought
the ship back on course.
        '-ek. Na-...-in.'
        I didn't understand a word, but I knew what it meant.  I needed a
new CNS board as well.  I hoped the mining platform had a spare, the CNS
was not something I could live without.  There was no sense in worrying
about it now.  I had a ship to pilot.
        Four hours and as many cups of coffee later I made final course
corrections.  Essen mining platform ATARGATIS lay silent below me.  The
complex had power, but apparently no life.  Not if the radio silence was
anything to go by.
        A few gentle nudges on the control column and the MOMBASSA OAK
mated with the ATARGATIS with nothing more than a slight bump.  I
permitted myself a gentle smile, 'Not bad for a janitor.'
        I unstrapped myself from the acceleration couch and stared outside
at the platform complex.  Where was everybody?  That mystery would solve
itself, and then I could return to the problem of fixing the MOMBASSA
OAK and returning home.
        Perhaps this time I'd get a promotion.

---
Typed by SIDEWINDER/LSD.