Into Thalarion

Episode 38

IN THE BEGINNING....

There were no more calendars.

The old axial-flow fan mounted in the aft synapse was not moving. It may as well have been a metal daffodil or a mind game for those who do not have one. Ned' Carpenter tested the terminals. After nearly electrocuting himself, he thought it might be relevant to turn off the main breaker.

High above him, the metal grating of the catwalk clanged like untuned bells in a churchyard.

"Where are ye?" Alban called from the fifth tier. He did not sound blissful, which came as no surprise. After two decades, Carpenter had yet to see him crack a smile, even in invective and traducement.

**********

The five pointed neutron was the only visible monument in the transgalactic backwash of spacetime foam.

The bough of the spacecraft appeared through the columns of citrus chromatic, non-heat. The anserine, dove-like head of the CON Module coasted imperiously, unstoppably through the macerated, godforsaken wastes. Due north, there was the hub of the lesser Magellanic Cloud. Afore, beyond the baffles of the monster, GH Creator Drive, there was the arachnid hint of Antares.

In between, there was only sucking monotony.

**********

The austere woman in impeccably pressed coveralls was traversing Xinhua Alley, only five hundred feet from the main hydrosphere when the call came through.

"DOCTOR WARD, COULD YOU PLEASE REPORT TO AUGER ROOM." The tin-man on the loud speakers quacked. "DOCTOR MARTHA WARD...."

With a tilt of the eyes and a snarl of the cheeks, the astrophysicist to a last, precious slurp of her intestine corroding caff' and turned towards the elevators on the wynding, stainless steele piazza.

**********

"WHY DID YOU LET IT GET THAT BAD?" Alden upbraided him, and whipped around the node in viable paranoia.

"It just happened today." Carpenter explained.

"THEN TODAY, YOU COULD HAVE GOT YOURSELF KILLED." The senior operative holla'ed. "FETCH ME A CRESCENT PIECE, AND BE QUICK ABOUT IT."

There was no sun, no stars; no twilight, no dawn.

**********

"This is a might bit absurd." The General said tonelessly--his shadow falling doubtfully over the golden age, Hasselblad exposure.

"You think so?" Evans challenged. All his life he had been an astronomer. True, for much of the time, he had nothing to view but gas halos, flatulent hydrogen and pixie dust but even a babe in swaddling clothes--even one who was not the brightest bulb in the refrigerator of life--could figure this one out--that is, if said babe paid any attention at all to milestones in human history. "This was taken in 1968 on the first orbit mission."

He handed Ward the yellowing spectrogram.

She shrugged.

"You have a point?" She supposed.

Evans activated the monitor. There appeared another, full color image.

"And?" She regarded him morosely.

"It's all there." The stargazer licked his lips. "The Mare Imbrium; Tranquilitatus; Nectaris, the whole smash; perfect except for one difference."

Ward shrugged.

"You're crazy." The General decreed. "And for the record, how did you obtain the reserve power you needed to create the little retrospective that you're inflicting on us?"

"LOOK AT VOLTERRA." Evans demanded, he did not ask.

"Yes...." The astrophysicist patronized, glomming the importance of the radioactive black, thermonuclear chasm that had hewn a one hundred kilometer stretch of the sixtieth parallel. "Very compelling." She humored him. "And hard to capture without the pomegranate. This is one of the better AB prints that I've seen.

"You have an amazing photo album. Thank you for sharing it with me." She yawned and started to turn away.

"THIS PHOTOGRAPH DIDN'T EXIST UNTIL THIRTY MINUTES AGO." Evans caroled after her.

Ward halted in her traces.

"You can't be serious." The General bickered. "The holocaust occurred months before and we didn't even follow the same trajectory. What you're suggesting is physically impossible. Go back to your telescope, and this time take a closer look.

"You're jumping at every ink blot. It's probably just gravity assisted superfluid doing a loop-dee-loop' around that neutron star."

Swallowing, Evans stepped confidently forward to address his equapoised colleague.

"He's wrong. I would stake my reputation on it." He knew. "It's not trapped debris. That object is the Moon."

A decision point. This bit of information would surely interest her old man. However, Martha Ward also possessed a conscious and for half a second, she wanted to dismiss the information. On the other hand, the old man was the only individual on that ship who was ever good to her.

"So it is," she turned slowly, gazing at the picture again. "But...so what? It's a hunk of rock. There is no way there could be life on Moonbase Alpha. I mean, think about it. Even if they survived Breakaway, which it's easily a billion to one they didn't, surely they wouldn't have made it very long in deep space."

She dismissed the image with a flourish. "If nothing else, perhaps there are some useful minerals we can exploit. Perhaps the remains of the base...nothing more."

Her intuition told her she was wrong.

**********

"Kip, I got your screw, bub.'"

To the contrary, the 'screw' was already there.

Half-way down the steps, Ned' Carpenter could smell the surcharged atmosphere. The lung blistering herald of caustic Mayapples and standing hemoglobin torched his nostrils. Before leaving for the damage control unit, the companionway had been a metallic silver color. He was horrified to see that it was now painted a rheumy shade of scarlet.

As was the rail.

The technician stared disbelievingly at the disgorged, cloying membrane on his left palm.

Next to the blood-splayed fan blades, Albans' lifeless, necrose palm lay open next to the AC Adapter. The now transparent, jelly fingers were turned upwards in a desperate claw.

**********

"We should at least do a sensor study." Evans importuned them.

"We lack the voltage." The General smiled, his usurpation almost complete.

"Really?" Another middle-aged researcher startled them as he entered the Auger through the rear hatch. He was straightening his neatly pressed, ILC tunic as he negotiated the narrow, submarine-like brain center. "That sounds imperative. Prey tell we lack the 'voltage' for what?"

Dr. Emmanuel Ward, chief scientist and elder statesman of the Feng Yun placed a devoted arm around Martha's shoulder.

"Extensive sensor study on an object Greg has discovered," Martha briskly took the 5 steps toward the monitor. "It has all the characteristics of Earth's moon. I know it is next to impossible but if it is the Moon, well, I think it would be worth our while to scavenge it for salvage...metals, perhaps even plutonium and uranium."

Worth their while. Realistically, they had all the time in the universe.

"Yes." The elder researcher approved.

"Dr. Ward," Jerry Hollowell, a young communication specialist, barged through the hatch, holding a CD-ROM which had been rewritten countless times. His address was nonspecific. It didn't matter which Dr. Ward he was addressing. "I've picked up a signal. Listen to this." He motioned them all to crowd around the main comm station.

The General and Dr. Emmanuel Ward exchanged amazed expressions. Ward's suddenly became elated. Martha Ward, Greg Evans and Jerry Hollowell wore confused faces, wrinkling their brows.

**********

"Committing resources to fix a few broken security cameras so that you can spy on people does not take priority over expanding the gymnasium, Pierce," Sandra Benes leaned forward on her petite elbows, dark eyes blazing. "The gym is already overloaded and overbooked and has been the source of more than a few conflicts."

She sat back, and sipped her soy imitation coffee, bolstered by the fact that Dr. Russell was 100% behind her case.

"Recreation and adequate recreation facilities is especially important during uneventful and routine periods like we are experiencing now," Helena Russell added her two cents.

"Get right with it." The security chief responded sharply. "While you two are helping to facilitate Rugby teams, you might also want to take into account that the lower levels have seen one or two crack-ups in recent months."

The brouhaha was turning out to be more than he bargained for.

"I'm on his side." Starns mentioned predictably. "As you know, the last incident occurred with Giovanni D'Antoni."

"Of Services Section." Quentin reminded Sandra Benes. "It took three patrolmen and a domestic stun gun to get the rope from around his blooming neck. That basketball hoop made an admirable gallows. He got to thinking about his daughter in Sicily. He thought about it and thought about it. After a month of operating under low tide mode, with nothing else better to do, he decided to join her in the Great Beyond."

"Doctor Sullivan says he's stable now." Starns dealt a low blow. "The anti-psychotic medications have improved his disposition much. Who knows, next week they may be able to remove the nine point restraints."

"The point being--we don't want another incident like that." Quentin parlayed with honesty and concern.

"Giovanni was not discovered by patrolmen." Sandra added vociferously. "He was discovered by a couple of the gym patrons at 2:30 am. That was the only time they could schedule use of the facility."

Koenig raised an eyebrow and shook his head. It never occurred to him someone would use a basketball hoop as a lynching tree and try to do himself in. In a morbid way, it was quite creative.

"I understand your concern, Pierce," Helena Russell acknowledged, "but the fact is there isn't much on this base that somehow can't be fashioned into a suicide weapon. Unfortunately, someone who is determined to kill himself will attempt to do so and the presence of a camera would only encourage him to do it elsewhere."

Angelina Carter couldn't believe she was still in Koenig's office. Daily Command Conferences were now 20 minute section updates, after which, they could leave and get back to work. Not so today. Sandra Benes and Pierce Quinton were looking for resources, technical section resources.

Victor Bergman left. Ben Ouma left. Paul Morrow excused himself. Alan Carter stealthily slipped out. Koenig asked Ang to stay. Twenty minutes later, Pierce Quinton, along with his reinforcement, Truman Starns and Sandra Benes with Helena Russell were still presenting their cases while Koenig sat quietly considering both sides. They were at the circular table. Ang was leaning against the viewport, laptop resting on the sill. Her business looked "official".

It wasn't.

'Still having fun, pumpkin?' came the teasing, mixed with gloating, IM from 'A_CARTER'.

'I can't believe they are still arguing over this shit,' she typed in response, followed by a yawning smiley icon.

'LOL,' came the reply. Then, he challenged her to a game of online checkers.

That was what she was doing, playing checkers and only half paying attention to the arguments, when Koenig asked her the inevitable question, "So what do you think, Ang?"

"Oh, sorry," she looked up, a bit flustered, "a slight problem in Technical."

Problem? Ang walked straight into Carter's trap. He jumped two of her pieces, and 'kinged' himself. She offered a 'draw'. He declined.

"Expanding the gym would be nice," she began, "on the other hand, security is important too." She concluded and cemented her position as non-committal, middle of the road fence sitter.

**********

The interstellar beam plunged towards them, loud enough to penetrate the launch pad turntables.

**********

"...ZERO TWO ZERO GAMMA RAY DOMAIN...." The voice in space called to them.

Startled, Alan Carter was leaning on one knee at the CapComm station, with one foot propped on the chair when the clarion call arrived. He stood straight and leaned severely towards his translucent green sensor/scanner/radar uplink panel. On the mainframe deck, Emma Black whipped around so suddenly that she almost overturned her software cart. Benjamin Ouma dropped his clipboard immediately to his side and walked briskly to his workstation.

Paul Morrow's eyes widened at Carter. Also standing, he reached for the high gain knob and slowly increased the auditorium's speaker volume.

"...I REPEAT, THIS IS THE EARTH VESSELL FENG YUN...."

**********

In the commander's office, Pierce Quentin forgot his liturgy on safety versus croquet.

"...WE ARE BROADCASTING AT 1,420 MEGACYCLES...MOONBASE ALPHA, DO YOU READ? MOONBASE ALPHA...."

Angelina closed the cover of her laptop, and followed Koenig and the others out to Main Mission. Joe Erhlich stood up from the Technical station as Ang snapped the laptop into the docking port. Erhlich nodded silently and moved toward the right archway, heading toward the Main Power Generation area. He knew the drill. Alien intrusion. Petrov would be paging him by the time he stepped through the great double doors of Power Generation, paging him for power to be rerouted, first to the defensive shields, then to the laser cannons.

Bergman stepped through the left archway as Erhlich departed under the right.

"All primary and secondary power circuits online," Angelina reported. It was as good as it could get and they had not been completely online in months. She gave a sidewise glance at Carter. He was ready to send out the 'welcome wagon' if necessary.

"John," Helena Russell, standing beside Koenig in the pit, behind Morrow, "what is a Feng Yun?" She didn't have a clue and her memory was not serving her either.

"Computer has no record of such a vessel ever being launched from earth, Commander," Ben Ouma swiveled his desk around while shaking his head.

Carter looked flabbergasted.

"Alan." The commander acknowledged in silent signal.

"ELSTER." The astronaut called to the pad three block house. "START UP THE INGRESS PREPS ON EAGLE ONE AND EAGLE FIVE. I'M ON MY WAY."

He left without bustle.

"It's probably not in the computer because the project was declassified years ago. It was considered inconsequential." The commander recalled in answerance to Helena Russell's question. "The Feng Yun was a weather satellite that was launched from the People's Republic of China. Translated, the name means 'wind and cloud.'"

The situation was confusing.

"Yes." Bergman understood, but still, he scratched his head. "But correct me if I'm wrong, that was very much an unmanned probe. They boosted it up to a six hundred mile, polar orbit. It was programmed for routine monitoring duties--radio data; ocean surface temperatures; marine color; ice and vegetation.

"Then the day came when it tumbled out of control and burned up on re-entry.

"Or so they said...."

"I don't like it," Morrow piped in from his station, somberly typing commands to section heads in his keyboard. "Obviously a weather satellite is not capable of interstellar travel, even if it didn't tumble out of orbit."

"Commander, audio link up in 5 seconds," Sandra Benes reported from the analyst station.

"Ready to bring up the defensive shields," Angelina reported. The defensive shields were a marvelous modification of the meteorite deflection screens, thanks mainly to the generosity of the Bereneceans. It would be their first opportunity to put them to use if necessary.

"On your word, Commander," Ang looked up as control was transferred to her console from Erhlich in power generation. "Once the Eagles have launched and cleared the perimeter, that is."

Koenig hit the oblong white communication stud beside Morrow's keyboard. "This is Commander John Koenig of Moonbase Alpha. We are also people from Earth. We are, however, unfamiliar with your craft. Please provide more details including your registration number."

The break in the action went for so long, Paul Morrow was starting to wonder if the link was broken.

"Sandra, check the circuit." He requested in the half-time. "The closeout crews have exited the launch pads...we're starting the countdown."

"What's taking them so long?" Helena Russell questioned. Pierre Danielle moved past her and took over the headset at the CapComm station.

Morrow glanced at Ang and she at him. Then she looked up toward Koenig who gave no indication of emotion with a mask of steel blue eyes and stern set jaw. He was absolutely unreadable.

"Laser Cannons power up initiated," Colonel Yuri Petrov broke the silence, reporting on the Dolby speakers.

"I don't understand why they aren't answering either," Ang, stomach now in a knot, acknowledged Russell.

"They don't appear to be in any rush, do they?" Victor Bergman chided briefly before inclining his ear back towards the speakers.

"PARDON...." The echo from the void rejoined. "BUT YOU DID SAY 'JOHN KOENIG IS COMMANDER...THAT KOENIG IS THERE...THAT YOU, SIR, ARE COMMANDER JOHN KOENIG AND YOU ARE CURRENTLY THE ADMINISTRATOR OVER THAT BASE?"

"Yes, I am John Koenig, Commander of Moonbase Alpha. Who am I speaking with?"

He put them back on hold, minus the canned music.

"Commander, Flight One is away." Pierre Danielle reported in the interim.

**********

In the command module of Eagle One, Alan Carter rode out the launch. After ascent engine cut-off, he initiated an early throttle-up, rolling left for nearly perpendicular, ninety degree climb into orbit. Beside him, CMP Hawthorne was couched in the yellow floodlights, maintaining visual surveillance out of the forward rendezvous windows with the strap of a digipack camera around the neck dam of his spacesuit.

**********

Ten nautical miles above the command tower, the lunar barrens and the outer ring of the base waned in the perspective as Eagle One and Eagle Five climbed into deep space.

**********

Victor Bergman was resting his weary bones against Morrow's paper shredder when the transmission was picked up again.

"WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE DELAY." The person on the other end extolled, amicable, yet concerned. It was an attitude of necessary suspicion that seemed familiar to all of them. "THE DETAILS ARE A BIT HARD TO EXPLAIN...THIS IS NOT THE 'FENG YUN' THAT TRACKED HURRICANES IN THE PACIFIC BASIN...OBVIOUSLY."

Pierre Danielle chuckled. At the RETRO station, Kate Bullen offered a wry grin.

"THAT WAS A DECEPTION." The kindly man struggled. "A GREAT ONE...THE CRAFT WAS BUILT UNDER A GLOBAL SECURITY OVERSITE DIRECTIVE...I CAN GIVE YOU THE PROJECT CODE...IT SHANT' BE IN ANY OF YOUR FILES THOUGH.

"UGHHH...." The representative stumbled. "TRY REFERENCING 'UMBRA-99999.' IT MIGHT WORK. POSSIBLY, VERY POSSIBLY...."

"No it doesn't." Benjamin Ouma determined quickly.

"WELL...THAT'S A BIT OF A SNAG...." Their conversant from deep space observed in all of a migraine headache.

"'UMBRA' is a DOD code." Ouma prompted Koenig. "Department of Defense. They weren't famous for their uploads and file sharing."

"Then its possible they could be telling the truth?" Helena Russell offered optimistically.

"OUR CIRCUMVEHICLE NUMBER IS 'HK-01A.'" The person on the other end chanced.

"Right." Pierre Danielle said, pissed and impressed. "That ship is a Heron-Kransikov spacecraft stack?"

"Eagle One and Eagle 5 have cleared the defensive perimeter, sir," Angelina reported from the Technical Station after cross referencing the Eagles' positions.

"That's a hard one, John." Victor Bergman remarked. "It's scientific 'futurism,' but not science per se. Those 'tubes' sound good in theory, but only after you've had a martini or two or three to open your mind to it."

"Even at that...." Pierre Danielle went on. "A Heron lifting vehicle with a Kransikov booster?"

"I know of only one person who was that deeply involved in translight research." Victor Bergman continued. "A good man, with a brilliant mind but his ideas were regarded as cack-handed--even by the Rendelsham school. I mean, Area-51 would not have employed this poor fellow."

The Commander took all variables into consideration. "Bring up defensive shields," Koenig motioned to Ang.

**********

"What in the hell?" Martha Ward read the newest sensory data of Moonbase Alpha. It piqued the General's interest. "Very strange. It is a phased variant of a meteor screen but very powerful. There is no way this technology comes from Earth."

She glanced at Evans then back at Emmanuel Ward. "How do we know these 'people' are humans from Earth?"

"Eagle transporters approaching," the General continued reading the sensor data. "They are certainly 1999 technology. However, they are armed."

"What would you recommend, Dr. Ward?" he addressed the elder scientist.

**********

"Moonbase Alpha," the voice came through the Dolby speakers again, though this time it was a different voice: gentler, wiser and paternal. "We understand your need to take a defensive posture. I assure you our intentions are not hostile. Therefore, as an act of good faith. We are holding our position and we invite you to come aboard our vessel."

This sudden turn of events, an extension of the olive branch, left everyone stunned into silence, including Carter and his pilots in Eagles one and five. In particular, Victor Bergman stood gaping, trying to connect the familiar voice to memory.

"Who are you?" Victor blurted uncharacteristically.

The person at the other end fell into silence then stammered with elation. "Victor?!? Victor Bergman, is that you?!? Why, it's Emmanuel. Emmanuel Ward!"

"Your friend Dr. Ward from graduate school?" Angelina stood up abruptly, interrupting the professor's creeping euphoria. "Commander, I don't mean to put a damper on the enthusiasm here but you do know how unlikely that is, right? You also are aware we've been through this before, when long lost friends and family suddenly appear at our doorstep."

Like the Ray Bradbury story, Mars was not Heaven.

"I realize that trust does not come easy." Ward replied without pretense or design.

"The ships that are approaching you do carry ordinances." John Koenig confessed. "But their mission is one of reconnaissance, and reconnaissance only. The last thing we would do is to threaten harm to either you or your people. We have the need to know, to understand."

"And I agree with your protocols." The researcher replied up front. "Incidentally...several of my technical people have pointed out that there appear to have been some structural changes to the base. I'm looking at schematics that were drawn up by engineers during the 1993 ILC survey. It does seem different. The last time I was on Alpha was for the international conference in 1997, so my remembrances may be false.

"However, you have used alloys that don't appear anywhere on the Periodic Table." Ward said unwarily.

"That's a long story." The commander responded briefly.

"One that bears no need for explanation." The astrophysicist assured them again. "I'm confident of who you are, Dr. Koenig. Besides, we are the ones who come begging for alms. As soon as our navigational computers fixed your position, it was all we could do to keep from sending out a distress signal.

"Victor, old friend. I wish I could boast of my good fortunes since we last met. As it is, our situation is grave."

"Admittedly, our situation is not the best either, Emmanuel," Bergman paused noticing the surprised glance from Koenig as the professor began to divulge too much information on their situation too soon. Bergman recognized his lack of caution and added, "as you could well imagine."

But it was too late. Koenig stared at Bergman icily

'WHAT IN THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THE PROFESSOR?!?!?' came the IM message in the pop up box on Ang's monitor from "A_CARTER_EAGLE_1"

Ang had the same sentiment as did Sandra, who wrinkled her brow and gave a cross-eyed look. Koenig cleared his throat.

"Would you like a medical or a damage control team to accompany us?" Koenig guesstimated.

"It may be too late." Ward told them loweringly. "No...if you have someone on your staff who is proficient in zero mass particulation. It could be helpful."

"Ang'?" Koenig queried the technical chief.

"Yeah, I have a good idea who we can send," She nodded to Koenig but did not divulge the name, since the channel to the Feng Yun was still open. She composed an email to Hans Rothchild and clicked "send" from the mouse.

"Give me some time to get my staff together and we will contact you," Koenig went on to Ward. "We look forward to meeting you."

"Likewise, I'm sure." The physicist in the big ship said, and signed off.

Koenig turned to Morrow as the link closed. "Paul, tell Eagle One and Eagle Five to return to base. I want Carter to take us to the Feng Yun." The commander turned toward Quentin. "Pierce, I want two from security to accompany us."

"Disable defensive shield," Ang instructed an always leery Petrov and Joe Erhlich in Main Power, as Koenig told Bergman and Russell they would accompany the team as well.

Angelina looked up to see Koenig standing in front of her. "You're coming too," he addressed her,"along with?"

"Hans Rothchild." She finished the sentence.

"Right. Good choice." He started up the steps to his office, after motioning Russell and Bergman to follow him. "Let's plan to leave in one hour." Koenig instructed Morrow before disappearing through the privacy door of his office.

**********

In space, and maculation of violet clouds were crossed by the transverses of the largest vessel ever launched from Earth. Leading the way was Eagle Flight One. Both of the trailblazers were insignificant drafts in a universe of prime fabricators.

Chapter One

"I shall tell you a great secret my friend. Do not wait for the last judgement, it takes place every day.

--Albert Camus

"...gone a spot...the Moon's a spot...."

--General Calendar, AAC retired.

"He'll be alright," Victor Bergman gave Ang a fatherly pat on the knee as she sat down on an empty hard plastic chair. The travel tube began to accelerate down the tunnel toward the embarkation area of Launch Pad 3.

She glanced back at the doors as Nicky Carter's plaintive cries of objection and thuds from his pounding, mixed with Melita Kelly-Geist's attempts to soothe, subside with distance. John Koenig contemplated with a frown at the junior Carter's violent outburst and his futile attempt to stop his mother from leaving.

"He was very upset," Ang pulled out and began to redo the French braid in her hair, which Nicky had managed to dishevel into uneven strands. "I wonder if something is bothering him."

"You know how children of his age can be," Helena Russell attempted to apply normal child development psychology. "Separation anxiety is very common at this age."

John Koenig was still staring at the door.

"I bet that Melita already has him distracted and he is happily playing right now," Bergman offered.

"Of course he is," Dr Russell concurred reassuringly.

John Koenig was still staring at the door.

**********

The telescopic platform containing the white room moved outwards from the pad three block house and bracketed the starboard hull of Eagle One with an unexpressed, metallic thud. Off the deep end, the bluffs of the Alpine Valley--gray and bleak--boast the only color to speak of, other than ironclad black.

**********

"...I'm wrong, the Vitaseed is on me." A toothy, not-in-the-know Victor Bergman was promising Ang' when Specialist Veit opened the hatch for them. His mungo cheer was suddenly wiped clean. The instruments of his wiping were, from left to right, Harness Bull Duncan; Harness Bull Theylan; Harness Bull Pound; Chief Quentin and deputy director Starns--all in full garrison belt with lasers riding on their hips.

"Commander, the Feng Yun is moored over the Schrödinger crater." Marilys Singh briefed Koenig, and handed him the revised flight plan.

"Schrödinger?" The professor commented--as if it were tar to his taste buds. "That's rather remote, isn't it? Surely we could find them a better car park?"

Koenig raised an eyebrow. "What harm is there in being cautious, Victor. I know you're excited about the prospect of meeting up with an old friend again but we have been in this exact situation before...and it went badly. Also, don't forget that in our encounter with Ultima Thule, though they weren't aliens and indeed from earth, things were not as they seemed either."

"We have no record of this flight and only you are familiar with one person. I think in the present circumstance, I'm justified in being cautious, perhaps even not cautious enough."

"Commander, Eagle One is ready for the terminal count." Specialist Duquesne unsealed the temporary corridor. The vessel's brightly lit passenger module lay at the end of the expanse of red warning lights. "If you'd like to go ahead and board, we'll proceed with the cabin leak check."

Bergman hated it--guns with holes.

"Hey, John." He questioned Koenig privately as they walked. "We're showing an awful lot of muscle today, aren't we? Five security guards? If I didn't know better, I'd say you're getting paranoid in your old age."

"Paranoid?" Koenig shook his head. Bergman's euphoria and tossing prudence out the window was disturbing. "Like I said...cautious. If Ward is the man you say he is, he will understand."

Bergman appeared slightly wounded though common sense seemed to have made a return. "Of course, John, I understand. Emmanuel Ward and I go a long way back. We were best friends, nay, almost like brothers. I am eager to see him again...if he is indeed Emmanuel." He took a deep breath. "However, I am also curious about their situation, their ship, their...destination."

"So am I, Victor." The commander pointed out. "Especially if there's the slightest possibility of us leaving Alpha."

**********

"It's good to see you again in one piece," Angelina smiled tenderly, as she stepped into the Command module of Eagle 1 while Carter's copilot Hawthorne left the module with a nod. Koenig would be co-piloting this mission.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing." The pilot replied as he closed the cover on his clipboard.

She kneeled down beside him and lowered her voice as Bergman and the others began filing into the passenger module.

"I find it really disturbing how nonchalant the Professor is about this whole thing. Maybe Ward is his long lost bud but how do we know it's Ward?"

"Stage switch selector, on." Umberto Garzon said over the link.

"Copy." Carter replied, and looked whimsically at Ang.' "I reckon we won't know until the time comes."

Ah ignorance--it was a bitch, to say the least.

"By the way, Nicky had one of his 'episodes' as I was leaving. He did not want me to go. Of course, he couldn't tell me why but...I think something is wrong with this whole thing, Alan."

"...elliptical orbit after 2,932 fps...." Kate Bullen joined the loop, but the prompt was more for Ouma's benefit.

"Keep your chin up, hot stuff." The astronaut tried to buoy her. "Yeah, we might be caught like a rat in a spigot. Then again, it might lead to something beautiful." He smiled nostalgically. "Among other things." He pointed out, touching her cheek. "Now, off with you. It's almost time to raise the main sail. Even a gorgeous landlubber' like yourself can expect to bounce around if you're not strapped in before G-Loading."

"Address?" John Koenig moved into the command module as the technical chief was standing. "Excuse me, Ang.'"

He dropped into the CDR's couch and rolled towards the panel.

"In the pipe." Carter replied, and released the safety on his yoke. From the rear of the spacecraft, the sounds of rapidly increasing, hypergolic thrust emanated from the service module. "It'll take some time, but at least we know where we're going. The end of the Moon."

"Right," Ang nodded, rising. "I best be grabbing a chair. Commander." She acknowledged Koenig then hastily moved out of the Command Module.

"What?" she addressed Bergman as she took the seat beside Rothchild, across the aisle from Bergman.

"Oh nothing," he replied gently. "It's just you're going to put yourself in an early grave from unnecessary worry and stress."

She gave him an almost cross-eyed look. She wanted to tell him they were all likely to end up in an early grave anyway, stress or no, but decided against it. "Well, I suppose that's something I need to work on," she replied with no expression whatsoever. Bergman's mood was unnerving. On the flip side, not all things in deep space were evil and out to wipe them out of existence. Most things, yes, but not ALL.

She decided she was envious of his optimism and could glean some off him. Her thoughts shifted from the possibilities of the morose and depressing to downing the generic motion sickness medication Dr. Russell passed to her with the paper cup of water as the 5 second lift off warning came from the Command Module.

*********

Angelina awoke with a start as Eagle One docked, making contact with the Feng Yun. The Chief of Technical Operations had no idea when she drifted off or how long she had been sleeping.

All she knew was she was coming out of a deep slumber and for a split second unsure where she was and why.

Then she remembered.

However, all was not right in the Eagle. For one thing, Rothchild was not beside her. Victor Bergman was not across the aisle. As she looked around, still in a foggy haze, Helena Russell and the Harness Bull contingent were not around either. Angelina unstrapped her harness and stood up, looking down the aisle into the open doors of the service module and the Command module beyond.

"Alan? Commander?" She called out, walking up the aisle...and walking...and walking and walking along the impossibly long aisle. She broke into a run and finally, as if on a moving sidewalk, found herself catapulted into the Command Module.

It came as no surprise to her to find Alan and Koenig gone as well.

She turned, only to find herself looking up at a man. He had the face of an Adonis and the body of Hercules. Perfection of masculine attractiveness, the ideal, the image of manly heroism was mixed with gentleman demeanor. He said nothing but took her hand and helped her up then gently began tracing the line of her jaw with a strong but well manicured index finger. She was entranced, his gaze was an aphrodisiac, as she allowed him to trace her throat, his hand finally resting on her chest.

In one swift move, he grabbed the neckline of her tunic and ripped it down the front, along with her brassiere. She was disappointed in herself that she did not object, but the fact was, she was mesmerized and she stood, naked from the waist up before him, anticipating his next move.

With one hand on each breast, he cupped and caressed them as he drew his face closer to her breastbone. It was wrong and adulterous but her resolved to resist and stop him was completely gone.

It was only when she briefly opened her eyes and looked down, that she saw the angel face had turned into a pustulating, rotting mass and the perfect teeth had mutated into razor sharp grisly fangs. She screamed as his fingers became knives tearing into her chest and its maw chomped brutally into her heart, crunching through her sternum as easily as a pretzel.

She woke up with a loud gasp and cry, drenched in sweat as Eagle One docked with the Feng Yun.

Hans Rothchild gave her a strange look, as if he was inconvenienced. Helena Russell's expression had gone from complacent to alarm in an instant.

"Are you ok?" she asked Ang, unbuckling her safety harness and practically jumping over Bergman.

"Yeah, I guess," Ang answered, visibly shaken and nearly hyperventilating, "I guess it was a bad dream."

"Well, that is an unfortunate side effect of the motion sickness tablet." Russell went on, refreshing her paper cup with water. "We are still tweaking the dosage in the pharmacy. I'll let Bob know about your experience with it and we'll look at adjusting the proportions of the anti-enemic ingredient."

"Oh, isn't that bloody nice," Pierce Quentin commented from behind. "You blighters are using us as guinea pigs." He checked the setting on his weapon. "Thanks but no thanks, doc."

Ang, still shaken, made an effort to bring her breathing in control through the use of a paper bag, though the pounding of her heart was subsiding: at least she knew she still had a heart.

"I can't hack this." Gordon Cooper said, the monkey dancing on his back.

"What?" Harness Bull Pound asked.

"Every blower on this ship has gone out." The VAB manager explained, waving his hand before the AEB vent.

"What?" Ang removed the bag from her face, no longer feeling faint. "That's mechanically impossible."

"Maybe we blew a fuse?" Rothchild offered.

"No, it would be more than one and other systems would be affected," she shook her head. "That really is bizarre. EVERY fan?"

Gordon Cooper nodded with a puzzled, twisted grimace on his face. He was not a happy camper.

"Do we need it?" Pound required idiotically.

"No, not really." Coop' scratched his beard. "The cryo' tanks are working, alright, and the pressure is good. The fans just help to distribute the 02 more efficiently. It just needles me that some half-cut left this by the wayside during SM close-out.

"You never know...." He cautioned mysteriously. "It could lead to something even more hairy."

"Like the heinous smell of BO?" Harness Bull Theylan noticed, his nostrils twitching.

The aroma was all over the place. The fetor was not yet overpowering--but the day was young, and the pungent persistence was that of septic runoff from fecal disposal mills. Harness Bull Duncan was holding his breath as he exited the service module with Helena Russell's field kit slung over his shoulder.

"It's probably a bad LH canister." Coop' surmised. Every time he thought about it--the unadulterated, manifest incompetence of it made him flinch. He and Cedrix would have a talk about this, and it would be a beaut.' "Farendahl is out there in Eagle Five. It might be wise to trade vehicles with him. He can take Eagle One back to the yard and Ostrog can do an integrated systems check."

The odor was putrid. The bad LH canister was a possibility but the problem with the fans was still on Angelina's mind. True, Cedrix was in the process of cross training a couple of the power generation technicians but he was responsible for checking their work, which made these failures even more unlikely.

"This is disgusting," Rothchild complained nasally while plugging his nose. "It even tastes like shit." He continued as Koenig then Carter emerged out of the Command module.

Ang glanced at Rothchild in annoyance. He was another one of the technical elite; a brilliant man but highly eccentric with little social skills due to his preference to work alone in a tiny office of the experimental lab.

"It sure does." Koenig joined the ranks in body funk, with his utility case in one hand and a maglite in the other. "And there doesn't appear to be any reason for it. We'll have to use Eagle Five to complete the mission. They'll be instrument docking on our keel in about fifteen minutes. Ang,' since you're in charge of technical operations, I'd like you to stay here with Alan until the transfer is complete.

"Yes, Commander," she simply responded as she glanced down at her open laptop, docked into the Eagle's server and linked to Alpha's communication network. Her screen was lit up with the instant message window to 'B_Cedrix'. His responses, his near indignation, was apparent by his use of all caps shouting emphasis and cursing.

"Coop,' you and Rothchild sound the ship. Ward claims they're having problems. Handle the software, hardware, firmware D&C but don't feel obligated to overextend our resources beyond a certain point. In the end, we need equipment just as badly as they do so keep in mind that charity begins at home."

"I find that awfully-" Bergman started, but his larynx and his complaint were too slow in coming.

"Dr. Russell?" The commander brushed him off. "Did you have a chance to study the Feng Yun under the holographic microscope?"

"They appear to be human," Helena Russell acknowledged, delivering her report. "Brain activity, heart rate, respiration all within the normal range expected for our species. However, I say within normal range but the readings are at the extreme ends of normal and the majority are in this extreme range. In a population, I would expect a more bell shaped statistical distribution. The distribution is more lopsided."

She shrugged. "Of course, I'm not an expert statistician and I am making determinations from long range scans. I will know more when I make more extensive physical examinations of the crew."

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...." The professor basted. "That could also be due to some doppler shift in the Feng Yun's engines."

"You really think that old boat can travel faster than light?" Carter asked--amused, yes, but also interested.

"If Emmanuel Ward is aboard her, I'd say so." Bergman vouched. "He quite literally crushed classical physics as we know it. In those days, Kransikov theory and Quantum Tunneling were only speculation."

Bergman's synopsis was interrupted but the split second dimming of lights and the rerouting of voltage to the Eagle's atmosphere internal fans. The whirl of fans for the HVAC system commenced as the putrid odor quickly dissipated. Within seconds, it was gone.

"What?" Gordon Cooper scratched his head. His reaction was a mixture of anger and confusion. A quick glance at the printout computer generated added more to his puzzlement, as he handed it to Carter. "All systems functioning normally."

"That's ridiculous," Angelina blurted, equally confused, "Eagles don't just fix themselves."

It was absurd. But actually, in this case, it appeared to just happen.

It was a disgruntled, posed John Koenig who produced his commlock and punched SEND.

"Ouma." He said, throwing a gravel stare at the overhead lights. "Reel in the brain box on Eagle One. Reference all electrical activity over the past fifteen minutes, and let me know if an undervolt is present."

"Stand by one, commander." The mainframe chief replied back.

Koenig could relate to the empty, confounded beat that Helena Russell was sporting. These mirror, dumbstruck expressions were visible on everyone's face, save Victor Bergman. As much as it panged him to think it, his old colleague was behaving like a Grade-A 'suckah.'

"Eagle One, Alpha." Ouma returned moments later. "I looked at performance over the past hour. According to the server report, there's nothing wrong with your power grid. The levels are the same now as they were for launch and on-orbit checkout. No glitch, no hiccup."

Angelina made a soft but audible groan. "Then it has to be the fans," she assumed logically. The boom was about to be lowered on her, since the origin of the problem appeared to be within Technical, and consequently it would be further lowered on Michelle Cranston, who was in charge of Manufacturing.

"We won't know for sure until a diagnostic is completed, Commander, but everything seems to be pointed in that direction," she sighed. "What gets me is that all the fans failed at the same time. I can see one or perhaps even two but all five of them at once?"

"Defective lot code, perhaps?" Bergman offered with optimistic sympathy.

"We try to avoid putting same lot codes of key components in one place," she added.

"Try? What if you have no choice?" Helena Russell wondered from her place, leaning next to the passenger module blue and white monitor.

"Sometimes we don't and end up putting two of the same date codes in one Eagle." Ang acknowledged, standing up. "Once we had three. I have never seen four and never, ever seen five. If we had to use more than 3 same lot code fans, the ship would not be released to the block house...plain and simple."

"What about a defective LH container?" Koenig went on, irked and having the distinct feeling Technical's investigations would uncover no answers.

"That is Reconnaissance's responsibility, Commander," Gordon Cooper spoke up, offering his neck on the chopping block. "We are suppose to maintain them and check them for leaks before and after every mission. If it is found defective, technical replaces it with another one."

Oh, yeah. He and Cedrix would definitely be having a 'conversation' about this issue when he got back.

No one had the opportunity to continue when the commpost chirped at them. The Commander hesitated then turned toward the monitor, hitting the white link stud with his right thumb.

"Commander Koenig," Martha Ward's youthful face appeared on the monitor. She smiled warmly. "Welcome to the Feng Yun. We have a welcoming contingent just outside the docking port. We are ready to receive you whenever you feel ready to meet us."

"Everything checks out alright on the surveillance cameras." Truman Starns said simply.

Koenig still seemed debateful, but the hour was late and the swan dive needed to be taken.

"O'kay." He said decisively. "Open it up."

Chapter Two

"Being responsible sometimes means pissing people off."

--General Colin Powell

"The difference between man and animals is that we don't use our tongue to clean our genitals."

--Rimmer-Red Dwarf

"She's upstart...a venerable person."

--General Calendar, AAC Retired

"Welcome." Dr. Martha Ward spoke the words that made everyone view her with scorn and contempt. She was a snotty, aloof, viselike human being who smiled less than Ed Sullivan and a rigidity that rivaled the ungenerousness of her thermal flight suit. She sported more than one distinguished service patch. This was how Pierce Quentin knew that she was also a backbreaking cocotte. "I'm not sure why you're here or what you believe yourselves capable of."

She smoothed her free flowing salt and pepper hair back for vanity's sake.

"Looks like there is a goblin on this ship--Hagzilla." Carter retorted expertly.

"On Earth, I always said that if I got rich, I'd never be mean to poor people." Harness Bull Duncan testified. "This is the reason why."

"What are you supposed to be?" Ward with a capital "B" scrutinized the pilot. "The loggerheaded rocket jock?"

Clearly, there was more wrong with the communication than there was with the air handlers on Eagle One.

"Carter's the name." The pilot replied, not bleeding. "Captain, AEF, WSC, ILC and a proud graduate of the good old University Of New South Wales.

"Aeronautical engineering.

"And boozing." He divulged. "This is my evil minion, the head of Moonbase technical. Don't be impressed by her either."

The experience was surreal. This isn't happening, Angelina momentarily thought, then realized she was indeed awake. Was this the same woman who moments before, was so warm and inviting on the blue and white monitor in the passenger module of Eagle One?

"Oh, is this the 'little woman'?" Martha Ward sneered disparagingly, while inspecting Ang like she was an old piece of furniture. "Missing your pearls and apron, June Cleaver?"

"My name is not June," Angelina smiled, her tone mixed with faux sweetness, superiority and pity for the weak minded. "Mrs. Angelina Verdeschi-Carter.

"PhD," she added with emphasis after a pause. "Times two. Nuclear Physics with a bonus in Astrophysics. And you are?"

"That's enough," Koenig interrupted, coming to the front. "Where is..."

The Commander stopped as a man with white hair with gentle demeanor joined the group and came to the front. Martha Ward's demeanor instantly changed from her royal bitchiness to gracious hostess.

"These are the people who have come to us from Moonbase Alpha," she turned to the elder Ward, smiling. "Isn't it wonderful they are here?"

Angelina and Helena Russell exchanged confounded looks.

"Commander Koenig," the white haired man offered his hand in friendship. "I am Dr. Emmanuel Ward. It is a pleasure to meet you." His face brightened even more when he saw Bergman approaching them. "VICTOR! Victor, it is wonderful to see you again my friend!"

Ward grasped his hand in a hearty shake while gripping his other arm, a move that was actually a restrained urge to bear hug the Professor.

"Yes, Victor, seeing you brings back such fond memories of our youth as grad students back in the day," Ward's smile was genuine and infectious. He winked. "Commander, I could tell you stories about our exploits as young men, the good times, the fun times, despite the endlessly long days and nights of studying and research. Eh, Victor?"

Homecoming couldn't be any better than this moment.

"Oh," he dropped Bergman's hand, "and who are these charming ladies?" He glanced at Angelina then refocused his attention on Helena Russell. He gazed at her with admiration.

**********

"Doctor Helena Russell?" The Feng Yun's on-board GP, Doctor Amadore, gaped with a grizzled respect that went beyond worship. It exceeded horse sense, actually. "You were Chief of Staff at Anne Arundel...."

Carter looked at Ang' with a chagrin that bordered on smirk. Then he crossed the line and it became total smirk.

"Yes." The physician replied modestly. "For six years, until Annapolis was leveled...during the war...."

And until now she had been as boastful of the achievement as the creator of Port-O-Lets. It had seemed to her a duty, not a crown of the Trinity. The over-reaction did not go unnoticed by John Koenig.

"You'll need these." Amadore handed out the complimentary dosimeter badges--the type that Angelina Carter was acquainted with. "If the film turns black...there's a problem."

But for now, radiation or no, he would continue to gawk at Russell.

"The primary equipment is shut down." Elsa Structure, the Feng Yun's minister of nut and bolt assured them. "There was much greater activity about five months ago. Since then, we've been coasting with course corrections being made using the RCS backup.

"We can't continue to do that...." She explained to Ang' forthrightly. Depression bur roughed deep into the secretive canyons of her forty-something brow before being vanquished in the glare of old trophies. "For all of that, I can't wait to show you the GHC, Dr. Carter. I'm sure that a person of your credentials will find it completely tantalizing."

"Tantalizing, indeed," Angelina remarked, noting that this woman was the third person with the surname 'Structure' she had met in the span of 30 minutes. In fact, there seemed to be several people on the ship with the same last names. "Such a reactor was only in theory on Earth before Breakaway. I certainly have never seen one and in fact there were many who believed it could not be possible."

"Well, one would have never thought it possible that the moon could be blasted out of earth's orbit," Elsa Structure touche'ed. "But that did happen."

Angelina nodded sadly. "Yes, it did happen. Tell me, what was it like after Breakaway? It must have been devastating. According to Professor Bergman's calculations, there would have been a massive shift in the Earth's axis creating disastrous climatological changes. How did you manage to survive? More importantly, how did you manage to get this ship launched?"

"Yes," Elsa acknowledged, "it was terrible devastation unlike anything Earth has ever experienced."

To Ang, the response seemed oddly without feeling. A long silence followed as Angelina waited for Elsa to answer her second question. The woman remained mute.

"To maintain morale, we elected to name the ship's corridors after archetypes of mythological Earth." Emmanuel Ward told them as they negotiated the grated promenade towards the local lift. "This is the 'Janus Passage.' The Auger is one level up--think of it as a conning tower. A control center."

He motioned them with his finger.

"I suppose I can't help myself." Martha Ward--no tongue biter she--accosted them again after the doors closed. "How do you think you can help us?"

The older Ward looked stricken with heartburn.

"It is you who called us," Koenig parlayed with her. "Why did you call out for our help?"

**********

Ten kilometers above the rusted, inner uplifts, Eagle Five moved carefully beneath the shadow of her docked sister ship--spitting Aerozine until the transfer tube made contact with the divot concealed beneath the piping of the passenger module's undercarriage. Schrödinger was the plug in the tub, the bottom of the Moon. There was no light in the impact basin, save a dilatory dot--a single star with newborn ultraviolet.

**********

The Wards, agreeable and scurrile, led them through a series of multispectral conduits that connected to a central core in a fibonaci string. In Lethe Alley, they forgot where they were going. On Tartarus Avenue they felt uncomforted and discontent. Down the ladder, and onto an open lift, they were transported to Nyx Way where, magnafoozled,' Harness Bull Theylan tripped and fell flat on his face.

"How big is this ship?" Pierce Quentin blurted at one point.

"The Feng Yun is macroscopic in size." Emmanuel Ward said simply and inserted his key card into the lock box. "And yet, mass is no indicator. The metal in this companionway is a hundred times stronger than any steel but has only one-sixth the weight. The bulkheads are also self-sealing--a property which has saved our lives on numerous occasions."

"Herons were designed to be generation ships." Carter spoke with a wisp of the asinine, but his wry was wearing off.

"Intergalactic space travel, colonization." John Koenig summarized, embossed. "A city in the void. The voyage might take centuries, but it's a moot point. Even if the original crew doesn't live to reach the selected destination, their lineage would. The concept never rose above the level of an Amazing Story--occult theorem--because it was thought to be impractical.

"Dr. Ward, how did the commission manage to hide the construction of this vessel, and for what reason did they conceal it."

While they waited, the lights on the panel pas suel'ed.

"You know the game, Dr. Koenig." The older scientist said with filial respect. "The funds were siphoned from tax payers and allocated through black appropriations committees. I wasn't involved in that phase, but as I recall there were also a number of private investors. People are astounded at the many different types of ludicrous grants and endowments that are available--ten billion eurodollars to build a franchise of Sushi bars? The same applies here.

"As for construction, it was a joint effort--the propulsion system was fabricated at Watertown Strip; the modules were sent into orbit under the guise of being telecommunication and weather satellites. Obviously, there was more going on than thunder storms and subscription television. The assembly took place in regions of the Moon seldom observed by astronomers, and away from Alpha scanner and sensor detection."

Angelina glanced at Truman Starns, who along with Yuri Petrov, possessed Top Secret Security clearances with the WSC in the pre-Breakaway time. He gave no indication of whether or not he knew about the Feng Yun project. Of course, the detective was good at playing the poker face but why would he? It was out in the open now. Ward had her believing the project was plausible until the part about assembly in secret on the moon. It occurred to her the logistics of keeping such a monumental effort under wraps was mind-boggling.

Her expression, her puzzlement, did not go unnoticed and Commander Koenig would talk with her later about his same suspicions. "Even with black appropriations, Dr. Ward, there is always a goal in such undertakings. Considering the size of the ship and the efforts to build it and get it launched, there had to be a clear destination in mind.

"Where are you going?"

Pierce Quentin nearly lost his balance as his right boot made contact with something slick and slimy. Harness Bull Pund was there to catch him. "What the..." he blurted, grasping the railing.

He crotched down and shown his maglight on the offending object which nearly caused him to tumble down the stairs. Angelina gasped slightly, more grossed out than frightened.

The single severed digit of a human index finger, ashen and covered in dried blood and gore, lay partially crushed by Quentin's boot heel, marring the smooth gray floor.

Bergman and Koenig knelt beside the culled joint which marbled in the hardening gelatin of necrobiosis. Whomever it belonged to, this much could be said: they could not get a grip. Their only posterity--to be remembered as the flange that died in space. Pierce Quentin completed the triangle as he looked over Bergman's shoulder with poignancy. Harness Bull Pound managed to release the safety on his HEAT beam without anyone noticing.

Truman Starns looked hard, hoping for something more explanatory than the forensic planes of Helena Russell. The physician reacted immediately to the call for a mason jar autopsy by opening her EMT kit.

John Koenig looked critically on Dr. Emmanuel Ward.

Chapter Three

"We cannot banish dangers, but we can banish fears. We must not demean life by standing in awe of death."

--David Sarnoff

"...It playfully kills...."

--Abscess (From: Inborn Abomination)

"We're all idiots...it's my birthright."

--General Calendar, AAC Retired

The vacuum was serene, but the headers of Moonbase Alpha were as chill and antiseptic as ever.

Rippling, volcanic tubes terminated against the ramparts of the roundabout connected. Beside it, the trapezoidal Medical Center complex imposed itself against the mandatory power reductions. Before there was a mono star.

Now there were none.

**********

After they were all given the finger, Professor Victor Bergman was reborn. He had a new attitude and a different visage--his miserable, miserable face was entangled with worry, and self-doubt. He clubbed his open, left palm with his right fist compulsively while Pierce Quentin leaned against a diaphragm in the Nyx corridor.

Helena Russell closed her field kit, stood straight and exhaled.

Her unassuming shrug was enough to send John Koenig pacing again.

"This may seem improper-" Martha Ward started extraneously again, but was cut off by the electronic pip from the commander's commlock.

"What do you have?" He said. Book ending a commstation cul de sac, Angelina Carter perked while her other half stood adamantly and with arms folded--as if to declare his independence to think negatively.

"I have that BCA report ready for you, commander." Bob Mathias accounted on the other end. "Epidermal and DNA analysis revealed nothing. Gross physical trauma...mutilation, of course. Identification is quite impossible without access to the Feng Yun's records."

"We already know who the person was." Emmanuel Ward told them honestly. "The unfortunate fellow was one of our technicians, a man named Richard Albans. The accident occurred weeks ago."

"A ship that has everything." Alan Carter was incredulous. "Except for a broom and dustpan."

The comment was smirkable if the situation wasn't real, or so Angelina thought.

"How did it happen?" Helena Russell followed up with the query.

"Richard was up there," the elder Ward pointed to the gigantic circulation fan, "performing a routine maintenance on the blades when the breaker was thrown by accident."

"Ew," Angelina commented while craning her neck upwards. "An accident? No one bothered to check why the breaker was off? He just hit the switch and that was it?"

She was amazed at the shabbiness of it all, not that it hadn't happened on Moonbase Alpha. It had. Usually it was while a technician was changing a light fixture and he felt the bite of 110V. However, high voltage equipment, which she assumed was the circulator, usually had more than one breaker switch. Generally, there were a series of breakers, to dummy proof the process and avoid electrocutions.

"It does represent a mammoth disregard for safety, doctor." John Koenig admonished.

No one noticed the glint, the ever-so-slight pinch of the frown lines--Alan Carter, bathed in crimson emergency bulbs, seemed vaguely surprised by the commander's response, as if he had expected something else that wasn't worth the commentary.

"Had we the personnel...." A female voice cracked at them from behind. "On Alpha, you utilize hot fusion reactors. High energy nuclear reactions--the unstable and reckless abuse of deuterium to achieve abundant power, but if anything interrupts the cycle--if the scalding plasma is ever allowed to touch the walls of the containment barrier, your fate is sealed.

"Are your protocols as rigorous as they should be, Commander Koenig? I mean, considering?"

"In the event of an uncontrolled reaction," Angelina eyed the woman neutrally,"the core melts down, not up and out. The area is sealed off and the energy spent by the fuel burning out is spent long before the core rods even have the opportunity to 'melt' through the layers of containment of the reactor. The only possibility of explosion outward which would endanger the base is to purposely introduce a nuclear trigger...and even that requires extensive preparation and modification of the material to make it receptive to the trigger."

"As for electrical circuitry, "she went on, "accidents do happen but we endeavor to maintain as many failsafes as possible. The base was designed under stringent regulatory guidelines and we've actually improved on several of the safety features.

"No, something like this," she pointed up at the fan, "would not have 'accidentally' happen on Moonbase Alpha. The only possible cause would have been a willful and premeditated act."

"P'shaw." Nitrile lauded with sanctity and irritating mock horror. "I'm sure no Alphan could ever perpetrate deeds like that."

Angelina snapped back, clearly vexed with the woman. "Downshifting to a topic without complete relevance to the discussion in an attempt to cover up shoddy workmanship?"

"I'm terribly sorry." Emmanuel Ward arbitrated, rubbing his painful temples briefly. "One step forward, two steps back and I continue to forget my manners. Commander Koenig, Professor Bergman, this is Priscilla Nitrile."

"Dr. Nitrile presided over the core of engineers who constructed the Feng Yun." Martha told Ang' meaningfully--one specialist to another, even one sister to another.

There was something about, actually a lot about, Martha Ward which Angelina did not like. Her shifts from nasty, unwelcoming ogre to pleasant, friendly hostess where unnerving and unpredictable. The woman seemed like she was in a constant and intense state of PMS. Emmanuel Ward, on the other hand, seemed gregarious and friendly, going out of his way to be polite. Despite his pleasant demeanor, she felt uneasy about it. She could have sworn she met the man somewhere before but obviously, this was her first meeting.

"Shall we go in?" The other Ward suggested as the doors parted.

**********

"So?" Pilot Farendahl said with heavy handed satire.

He and his CMP, Brad Bixby entered the command module of Eagle One, and found only the animated lights of the panels and the bobbing of secured hand controllers. Both couches were empty, and as far as Farendahl was concerned, so was this mission.

"There's nothing back here either." Harness Bull Judge entered the compartment via the aft equipment bay. Harness Bulls Allwyn and Mugabe guarded them from the ghost in the rear (or the 'pain' in the rear, depending upon each individual's selective perception).

"Well, some bounder thought it was a good idea for us to rendezvous." Bixby tensed. He hated having no frame of reference.

"There was a lot of radio interference on the I-O Bandwidth." Farendahl supposed, reaching for his commlock. "They may have instructed us to turn back, and the signal was lost in the ether.

"What can you say?

"Pierre, where art thou, oh back seat Willy?" The flight commander called.

Harness Bull Mugabe uttered something nasal and unintelligible.

"We copy you Eagle Five." The Deputy RS replied from several nautical miles back in Eagle 2-5. "Is Carter there? I'd like to speak with him."

"No." Farendahl replied in a thick, germanic libratto. "The ship is at stable one, but no one is here." He looked around, confirming that no one lay dead in the LEB; that there were no guts and entrails drying to red slime on the bulkhead. "Do you recall the commander ordering an abort to orbit?"

"I'll check with Astrin, but as far as I know, that's a negative." Danielle replied. "Then too, there's some sort of energy halo surrounding that fancy stack you're moored to. It could be making a hash of our CDA."

"That's what I think too." Farendahl agreed mild manneredly. "In either case, we're going to have a look around, maybe meet up with the commander and Professor Bergman."

"Roger, Eagle Five." Danielle came back. "But you and Judge stay with the ship. Let Bixby and the others handle the SETI. We're ranging on the south pole now. If you need us, that's where we'll be."

"Good." Farendahl guessed.

**********

Brad Bixby, accompanied by Harness Bulls Allwyn and Mugabe, returned his commlock to his belt clip with a sigh.

"Well, no luck in raising the Commander or anyone for that manner," he stopped in the dim light and studied the cobwebs in the corners of the I-Beams of the corridor.

Either this corridor wasn't used often or the housekeeping skills of these people sucked.

"I told you we should have gone right rather than left," Harness Bull Allwyn griped, already half turned and ready to head back toward the Eagles.

**********

"Try this," the elder Ward poured the hot beverage into the cup. To Angelina Carter, the smell was the nectar of the Gods.

"It can't be," Ang muttered, then smiled broadly as Emmanuel Ward mixed in the imitation sweetener and creamer.

"It is, my dear," Ward beamed broadly. "Real, 100% Columbia bean coffee, grown in our hydroponics section, of course. I know on Alpha they were experimenting with soy derivatives but they were never quite the same as the real thing. That's why we had plenty of coffee beans with us when we left and have cultivated it ever since."

"MMMMmmmmm," Ang moaned contently, almost orgasmically. "I never thought I would taste real coffee again."

She was in heaven. Then, Ward touched her shoulder in a fatherly gesture. Instantly, chills went down her spine and she broke out in a sweat. She stiffened and she gave the elder Dr. Ward a disturbed glance as he instantly released her.

"I never thought I would taste the real thing again either," Helena Russell said ebulliently as she sampled her java. Commander Koenig had been enjoying the cup Russell offered him when he noticed Ang's reaction to Ward and stopped in mid sip, staring at her over the rim of his cup.

"Excuse me," Ward suddenly became business-like. "I do have to attend to a matter. Enjoy your coffee and I'll be back in about 20 minutes. We have many things to discuss. Victor, try some freshly squeezed orange juice," he invited Bergman with a smile then quickly left the room.

"It's alright." Carter continued his jive assault on Martha Ward. "It's nice to know that your joe is better than your safety committee. Of course, it lacks the old amber sting."

"Not for much longer, it doesn't." Dr. Amadore said, approaching the table with his cure for sobriety. "Pure, one hundred proof Blue Agave." He explained as he topped off the pilot's cup with enough hard liquor to plaster a Tyrannosaurus.

"No fooling?" Carter ruminated as he took a gulp.

"Whiskey, commander?" The GP offered, extending the smoked glass bottle. "It's not orange juice, but I certainly feel fresh and squeezed after ingesting it."

"You seem like a man of character." Koenig offered his coffee cup for conversion. "I trust your judgement."

"No thanks," Russell declined. "I'm driving." She joked. Amadore gave her a momentarily puzzled look then smiled in almost faux comprehension then emitted a forced chuckle. The Chief Medical Officer wanted to keep her head perfectly clear.

"I'm not," Angelina Carter presented her empty coffee cup. Amadore cheerfully abided by filling up her mug with authentic Whiskey. She took a sip, nodded her approval and downed the rest.

"Feel the burn," Ang commented as indeed she felt her esophagus flame down to her stomach. Momentarily, she felt as if her head was detached from her body. She realized that she probably had too much to drink.

But she didn't care.

"Uisce Beatha." Chief Quentin savored his buzz. "The water of life."

"Even more potent since we started distilling it ourselves." Amadore noted proudly.

"Got any Kilbeggan?" Harness Bull Duncan probed.

"No we don't." Priscilla Nitrile answered judgmentally. "Sorry."

"They can't spend all of their time running a distillery, Mark," Angelina retorted, keeping her slur in control. "Otherwise there'd be 'accidents' every other day and mutilated digits all over the place. Isn't that right, Dr. Nitrile." She smiled sweetly at Nitrile.

Nitrile returned the smile through thin, stretched lips. She didn't vocalize but her expression said it all: bitch.

"Exactly what are those contraptions that you're carrying on your belts." Truman Starns asked convivially.

"You mean these?" Dr. Amadore put away his hooch, and produced the short, bladed utility that was clipped next to his commlock. "Just a blower. Small, and personal sized."

"Is there something wrong with the temperature controls?" Bergman inquired studiously.

"Not exactly." Martha Ward stated. "Like the detector badges, the fans are a preventative measure. We have a decaying reactor on board and for that reason, the danger of exposure to toxic fumes is ever-present, but not to worry--this area of the ship is completely safe.

"I want to be frank with you." She then clawed at Ang.' "I find you outside of your expertise; believing that you can repair something as complex as the GHC drive. Your competence is such that you may be able to keep your Eagles schlepping along, but there is a vast difference between those old service propulsion systems and the quantum intricacies of time dilation.

"Do you even know anything about superluminal theorem or Kransikov Physics?"

Angelina set her empty cup on the end table, which she noticed was a genuine maple, or at least a good laminate imitation of maple wood.

"Is that what you've been doing for the last 5 years? Chasing theories?" She turned to address the presumptuous woman. "Where do you find the time to embrace nonlocality and Bell's theorem? Superluminal loopholes, oh yes, the Qigong of Quantum Physics, assume a degree of Nonlinearity in Quantum Mechanics. It has never been proven with conventional experiments...and why is that?" Ang was almost in her face then backed off. "Conventional experiments used a few electonvolts of energy. If quantum mechanics does have non-linear properties, it would likely to appear only at a very high energy scale, the highest energy densities. That would require the highest energy particle accelerators."

She sat down in a generously overstuffed cushioned papazion chair. She needed to sit since her legs were beginning to feel like rubber.

"High energy particle accelerators," she snorted. "Besides actually lacking a high energy particle accelerator, unless you have it tucked in a closet somewhere, " Koenig, in a semi buzz, smirked in spite of Ang's near drunken tirade since he knew such a high energy particle accelerator would be at least the size of the Feng Yun, if not larger.

"You lacked the other component required in a high energy particle accelerator," Ang went on. "Energy, which you have very little left. GHC drive?" She smiled then leaned forward on her elbows. "It didn't come from Earth...and you couldn't have pioneered it in 5 years."

"I'm sorry if I appeared to insult you," Martha Ward answered, appearing genuinely apologetic. "I had to know for sure that you could help us. It appears you can." She smiled approvingly.

"I don't need to pass any of your tests for approval," Angelina responded with venom. She had enough of the woman's mercurial moods.

"I understand your anger," Martha continued to smile. "But you've made an erroneous assumption about us." She sat on the couch next to her. "I really hope that we can become friends, despite this rocky beginning. I thought Dad already told you." She looked down, appearing embarrassed.

It took a few seconds to sink in. Angelina exchanged a glance with Alan who was still trying to comprehend what the woman just said.

"Dad?" Helena Russell, sober and clear of head was the first speak. "You mean..."

"Yes, "the younger Ward cut her off. "I am Dr. Emmanuel Ward's daughter. I was born on this ship. Most of us were. This ship has been in space for nearly 50 years."

**********

"It stinks." Harness Bull Allwyn complained. They should have been back at the ship by now. "Hey, Magellan," he sniped at Brad Bixby, "I think you got us lost. Worse, we must be right next to the sewage recycling plant."

"Stop carping." Bixby grumped. "I've a good fix." He showed them the flashing, white waypoint displayed on his commlock. "The worst that will happen is that we shall have to backtrack and you two will have to sit on your bums and play Euchre."

He knew they were slack.

"Very disturbing...." Harness Bull Mugabe maintained. "How we are unable to raise the others on audio."

It made his trigger finger itch.

"I think we ought to chip." Allwyn opined. "This is highly irregular--the way we're forging ahead with no thought of ops or tactical.

"We may end up in a very tight corner." He nodded. "Big time screwed."

"Might we go back?" Mugabe suggested. "And confer with Danielle and Astrin? Being proactive is a good thing--unless our ambition culminates in a particularly gruesome demise. I'm not afraid to die, unless it ends in my not breathing, then I take great exception to it as a rule."

Allwyn knew the feeling.

"You two choppers...." Brad Bixby shook his head wryly and blushed from the sheer Smurfdom,' the anti-Charles Bronsonism of it all; the unadulterated lack of macho. He felt embarrassment not only for himself, but for the totality of the male gender. "You sound like sissies'--and I think you are. Unfortunately for you, I'm the CMP on this flight, and I'm ordering you to join me on this journey of discovery.

"Look." He pointed his commlock at the Cha-Cha dance pattern on the dusty base. "Footprints. We're halfway there."

The motion sensitive airlock closed in Harness Bull Allwyn's face, separating him physically from his fellow explorers, one intrepid and ludicrous; the other just ludicrous.

**********

"Fifty years?" Koenig searched the table for signs of yak, but found only veracious ignorance and honor. "Those satellites were launched in the 1980's." He moved slowly behind the chairs. For some reason, Priscilla Nitrile seemed to be the least exposed, but the most culpable. Amadore looked pedestrian. Martha Ward, callous.

Victor Bergman dropped his napkin and steepled his fingers sapiently.

"Time is not the same out here, John." He said memorially. "It's unbodied, amorphous, shapeless. We're trained to think in terms of minutes, seconds--wishing our lives away on tactile frame of reference. In space, there is no 'sequence.'" Bergman postulated. "It is as elastic as it needs to be and ever the ephemeral. There is no significance to ourselves...no thread of revelation."

Professor Bergman, her respected mentor, was becoming poetic again and in her present state of borderline intoxication, it was making Angelina Carter's head pound.

"They must have gone through a time variant rapture corridor rather than coordinate variant," Ang spoke quietly, still from the papasian chair. She was quite comfortable and had no intention of leaving it. She glanced at the others then gazed at Carter as she explained in layman terms. "Coordinate variant rapture corridors, like what we experience, literally move us from one place to another. The time variant, though statistically rare, can result in a change of time. It can stretch it, shrink it, skew it, anything is possible and any result is possible. Theoretically, you can spend years in it and come out at a time before you entered or even many generation in the future."

"That sounds pretty fucked up," Harness Bull Pound commented from behind her.

"'Yeah, I suppose it can be," Angelina nodded. "Then this really is a generation ship. But," she looked around, hoping to get a visual clue from pictures or even the presence of toys, "where are your children?"

"Not long ago, they were all over the ship." Priscilla Nitrile said blandly, towing left and right--as if her seat was too hot to handle. "Then the trouble started with the engines. The nursery was relocated to the center of the metroplex, where the shielding is the heaviest."

"Amadore, you're a sot." Martha Ward spat ignominiously.

************

"Hey!!" Harness Bull Allwyn yelled while pounding on the door, "Guys, open up!!"

He stood back when nothing happened and stared at the door for several minutes. A check on his commlock confirmed he still had a short range signal and could communicate with Bixby and Mugabe but they were not acknowledging him. Allwyn jumped from being startled when the silence was broken by a loud bass thump coming from the other side of the door.

He made an executive decision and unclipped his laser from the holster. A precisely aimed shot sent a cutting beam into the locking mechanism on the door frame, which immediately erupted into a shower of sparks. Using brute force, he sweated and grunted as he pulled the door open enough to peer and wedge himself inside.

Let us drink a toast--here's to journeys of discovery. The jejune in his mind raised a glass that was filled with blood clots. If the nightmares ever stopped--if he could ever look on Gonzales' Tofu quiche without fear of vomiting--he would look back on this with warped superbia. After all, how often did the opportunity come to witness a double execution. It was like Hell's answer to Mario Brothers. Snapped clean of the spinal cord, Harness Bull Mugabe's head was advancing towards the ceiling--his skull piked by black and pink livers that snaked minaciously from tumors on the ceiling. At the same time, heading down the carnage conveyor belt, a quarter leg of Brad Bixby--thigh and genitalia in poisonous sapropel--was being relegated to the septic drains of the floor grates.

All about him, there was marrow crushed to a salt. Cowardice was no longer an issue. Road pizza was his problem, and he could not cope. Allwyn realized that the burst bag of gelatin that lay atop Mugabe's commlock was not quick dessert, it was someone's aorta. He retched convulsively, and backed away from the sour, red milk that oozed towards him with gravity and adoration.

"NOT FUNNY." He screamed at the rancid, desexualized remains. He excreted as Bixby and Mugabe's combined proctology report floated towards him with an odor more powerful than anything Ed Malcom could produce. "NOT FUNNY, NOT FUNNY."

In the center of the slay en masse, there presided an outgrowth of ivory harrows that seemed to masticate over the human sewage--unwilling as it was to release any good wine before its time.

"AHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-EEEEE-AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Harness Bull Allwyn emitted a yodeling, terrified Tarzan squall and fired his laser into the undulating madness.

**********

"Well, I trust everyone is refreshed, " Emmanuel Ward stepped through the doors of the recreation area again. He was completely relaxed and content, looking rather Hugh Hefnerish in his red smoking jacket. "Dinner will be server shortly and I am sure you will enjoy it."

"Dad," Martha Ward interrupted, standing next to the rubber tree, "They know. They know we have been in space for 50 years."

There were traces of betrayal in Emmanuel Ward's sullen countenance.

But overall, he seemed relieved. Setting aside his cudgels, he walked distantly around the table, vying nothing other than his own, internal beacon which burned brightly on the shores of science and reason.

"I would have told you in time." He said. "However, such depositions seemed inappropriate to me for a first meeting."

"The unexplained doesn't bother us." John Koenig replied indistinctly. "But concealment does."

"Doctor Ward," Angelina finally got a grip on the explosion of questions which swam in her head amongst the buzz of mild drunkenness, "what I don't understand is, since you and Professor Bergman are about the same age, how is it that you and the professor still look approximately the same age? I mean, you should be around 100 now. You don't look a day over 59 1/2."

She nodded complimentary to Victor Bergman.

"COMMANDER." Pierce Quentin broke in, ruining the liquor and the confessions. "MY COMMLOCK IS PICKING UP A SECURITY ALARM FROM A LOCATION NEAR HERE."

"And mine as well." Truman Starns acceded.

"It's your ship, Dr. Ward." Koenig addressed the researcher confrontationally. "I expect you to lead us to the source of the signal."

He was done with decorum.

**********

"For God sakes," Tom Nutrile sighed to Martin Armador as they surveyed the carnage on the other end of the ship. For stepping in the middle of blood and gore canyon, neither man reacted horrifically. "The intervals are getting shorter, Marty. What the hell. He's misstepped. He's already started on the fresh meat before they even get settled."

He grumbled as he opened the utility closet and pulled out a bucket and mop. "What a fucking mess. What's the story going to be this time?"

"The usual whitewash." The physician replied. "But if we don't hurry, we won't live to be ashamed of ourselves, so get cracking."

Both men had their pocket fans full on.

"What about him?" Tom pointed to Harness Bull Allwyn in the corner. The formerly rugged security guard was in the farthest corner on the floor, curled in a fetal position. His wide, frightened eyes darted back and forth as he furiously sucked his thumb.

"Not funny...not funny...not funny," he would mumble nearly incoherently every few minutes then return to his activity of thumb as pacifier.

"We leave the poor bastard alone, that's what." Amadore said, applying more elbow grease in the hopes that the frontage and the gaudy window dressing could be expedited.

On the floor of the chamber, the lamp in Harness Bull Mugabe's commlock continued to fluoresce through the flush corona of human sinew

Chapter 4

Should we shout, should we scream

"What happened to the post war dream?"

Oh Maggie, Maggie what have we done?

--Pink Floyd (from The Final Cut)

"Vision without execution is hallucination."

--Thomas A. Edison

"What is it? A sound...like 'thrump?"

--General Calendar, AAC Retired

Eagle Five docked on Eagle One's bilge--both vehicles were in chilldown; both were engulfed by the cold, azure blue of the Feng Yun's solar cells. Pilot Farendahl had no knowledge of the fantasque, incongruous events that were occurring aboard the spacer from Earth. For all he knew, an alternate universe had opened and consumed the entire reconnaissance team. He hoped for the best, but if this were the case, he would probably feel the same as Harness Bull Allwyn--that it was not funny.

For now, he was the only sentient human being in existence, revolving serendipitously around a moon that was shadow locked.

**********

Boots.

Pointing left, and right--tan and gaited to the aseptic floor of the Eutychia Corridor (which, according to the General, was nothing more than a bridge to the ship's waste treatment hub). Some treaded slowly--a few frenetically. Others meandered randomly, but all were careful to avoid stepping on Harness Bull Allwyn who sat sucking his 'binki.

"This is your alarm." The General said curtly, and passed the commlock to Starns.

"Don't look at me like that." Chief Quentin warned the stranger with the bad attitude.

"What happened here?" Koenig approached the most blameless people in the room.

"I'm not sure, commander." Harness Bull Mugabe, sheepish.

"He was mad." Pilot Bixby reflected. "The motion sensor closed the door, separating us." He told Angelina Carter. "While we were searching for the controls, we could hear him coming apart at the seams. When the hatch opened, we found him like this."

"Good grief." Emmanuel Ward spouted termagantly. "Dr. Koenig, I must insist that you allow us to escort you--at least until your people become more familiar with the layout of the ship. Several compartments had to be isolated. Someone could have been killed, sir."

Angelina only half heard Brad Bixby, instead, she was transfixed on the sight of Allwyn and the clinically evaluating with cool professionalism of Helena Russell. It was hard to believe Harness Bull Derek Allwyn had 'cracked.' This was a guy who contributed to the WWT effort in the US Army Special Forces. There were WWT horror stories and there were WWT horror stories. Ang remembered how he recalled the time his unit went in to rescue captive religious women but they were too late. They arrived and the Sisters of the Covenant were in pieces. Literally. After finding the terrorists who portrayed such a heinous crime hiding under the floor (and subsequently sending them to Allah courtesy of their semi automatics) all they could do was gather the remains into one body bag.

"Bag O' Nuns," he remembered with a chuckle. With experiences like that and living to tell them in graphic detail over Gonzalez's soybean casseroles, Ang couldn't imagine what would send the man over the edge.

"'Bix, what the Hell were you doing here anyway?" Carter pilloried--loud enough to startle Harness Bull Duncan. "You were supposed to be with Farendahl aboard Eagle Five."

"We didn't intend to get lost," Bixby began, in the hot seat. "We came looking for you because we weren't getting anything on our commlocks. Nothing but interference, so we set out to find you."

Carter's commlock chirped and he unclipped it from his belt, hitting the receive button.

"Farendahl, here, Captain," his face appeared crystal clear on the blue and white micro monitor. "Checking in and awaiting instructions."

"You got a capture, then?" Carter blurted back at the unknowing object of his wrath.

"Copy...." Farendahl treaded carefully. "We've been docked for about forty minutes now."

"I MUST HAVE GOT SOME SORT OF DYSLEXIC HEARING, THEN." The reconnaissance chief hectored even more loudly. "SEEMS TO ME, THE COMMANDER DIRECTED YOU TO HOLD."

Curious as to what the excuse would be, Koenig looked up from the shattered remnants of Harness Bull Allywn.

"Negative on the abort maneuver." Farendahl replied carefully, but concretely. "Alan, we haven't received diddley'--not since second stage restart. Pierre Danielle and Zed Astrin o'kay'ed us for a guidance controlled dock.

"If you don't believe me, then ask them."

"THAT'S A FAIR DINKUM.'" Carter assured him, smiling. "BELIEVE ME, I HAVE EVERY INTENTION OF CONSULTING WITH THOSE TWO BOUF HEADS. IN THE MEAN TIME,  I'D APPRECIATE IT IF YOU'D STAY WITH YOUR GODDAMN SHIP--UNLESS THAT'S TOO MUCH TROUBLE."

He hung up on him.

"But I tell you, we weren't getting any sort of communication from you," Bixby interjected again, attempting to defend his position. "Even the homing signals were not coming in." He straightened. "We lost contact and decided to find you. I take full responsibility." He finished with macho manliness.

"Right. You're accountable." Carter said, immediately pacified by honesty and stepping forward to slap the other astronaut on the shoulder. "I like that, mate. You're a pilot to be reckoned with. The rest of us think that penguins need snow, but not you. You think out of the box. No one will ever know how much it pains me to have to pull you and Farendahl from the rotation. My heart bleeds--just thinking about you making tedious, totally senseless laps around Dry Fork and Hicks Crater."

Brad Bixby's sudden conversion to the religion of admitting a bad decision was strange, in Angelina Carter's opinion. His ego and arrogance were large, like many of his astronaut peers in Reconn. Most of them would defend their positions to the end, to death itself. Many of them had done so.

Dr. Russell rose to her feet after draping a blanket around the still prenatal positioned Allwyn. "Deep psychosis brought on by extreme mental trauma."

"Mental trauma?" Ang questioned. "To what? The door shutting in his face?"

"I don't know," Russell sighed. "It could be a result of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. His experiences during the war; he may have repressed them and something triggered them to come to the surface."

"Repressed?" Ang wrinkled her brow. "Are you kidding? That guy reveals some of the most nightmarish stories...and he jokes about it."

"PTSS can manifest itself in many forms even years after an event," Russell defended her psychiatric training. "Of course, this is not my area of expertise." She turned toward Koenig. "We need to bring him back to Alpha."

Koenig nodded.

"Alan, you and Ang' remain here with the DC Team." He decided, step by perilous step. "Apparently, we're having communications problems. Put the wide-band satellite boost on every transmission you make. Report back hourly." He turned to the two Wards who seemed admirably flattened. "Security will stay behind and assist. Follow any and all physical directions given to you by Feng Yun personnel."

"Our road map to the stars." Carter told Martha Ward with sardonic hyperbola.

"Of course, Commander," Ang nodded as she glanced at Carter. It was going to be delightful, she thought sarcastically. Alan Carter would peck away at Martha Ward's cold as ice exterior until she had enough then would lash out at Ang. Ang would beat her back then Alan would start the persistent digs again.

"Dr. Ward." Koenig initiated. "I'd appreciate it if you would return with us to Alpha. There's several things that need to be discussed, and so far, it's not happening here."

"Pitiful, but accurate." Emmanuel Ward consented.

"I wish to come." The General superimposed.

On the floor, Harness Bull Allwyn 'blub-'blub-'blubbed his lower lip with a nutty forefinger.

**********

The spacecraft dropped from the universe, landing softly, between depot lights, in the one-eight gravity, and on a gray thunderhead of unreal propellant.

**********

"EAGLE FIVE ARRIVING." Marilys Singh's voice called over the white room intercom. "PAD FOUR RECOVERY CREWS STAND BY."

**********

Koenig released the cabin pressure and unsealed the airlock.

Harness Bulls Judge and Mugabe bumped the gurney into the boarding tube. Harness Bull Allwyn lay tranquil beneath the overhead lights--at one with the carrot...the artichoke...the market fresh whole heads of lettuce. He was content...he was Zukini. Helena Russell followed briskly behind with her EMT kit slung securely over her shoulder.

"This way, Emmanuel." Victor Bergman told his colleague graciously, but redoubtably.

Persistent hound that he was, the General tagged along.

On the ingress, Yul Ostrog, SCM and Bram Cedrix met them in passing.

"Bixby, finish the high bay preparations and then report immediately to the debriefing." Koenig regulated as he recovered his own field kit from one of the couches.

"Very good, sir." The astronaut replied in the uneven, electronic insubstantialness.

The travel tube came to an abrupt halt and Helena Russell gave Koenig a tentative look as the doors parted, revealing the main corridor to Medical Center.

"Call me when you are done with your evaluation on Allwyn," Koenig nodded toward the mentally traumatized Allwyn as Jerry Parker and Anne Delline took over stretcher duty from the Harness Bulls and pulled the gurney out of the travel tube.

"It will take some time," Russell acknowledged, turning down the corridor. The double doors closed and Koenig sat down again as it began to move.

Dr. Ward sat comfortably in the uncomfortable plastic chair with a stack of documents and overhead transparencies perched on his knee.

"I'm sorry about the unfortunate incident with your security guard, Commander. If there is any way we can help, please don't hesitate to ask." Ward began, smiling warmly.

"We can handle it. Dr. Mathias has some expertise in the field of psychiatry. I assure you, he'll get to the bottom of the problem." Koenig observed Ward. He seemed momentarily uncomfortable then he was his friendly, charismatic self again.

"I also apologize for my daughter, Martha, and Pricilla's unfriendliness." Ward went on. "Unfortunately, social graces, particularly with strangers, have not been emphasized. I think you can understand that they have never encountered beings outside our own ship. Instead, we pushed our children to excel and absorb as much academically as they could. Encountering you, though, has shown me that we do need to place more emphasis on interpersonal interaction. Afterall, what good is exceptional academic knowledge if people can't stand to be around you."

"No apologies necessary, Emmanuel," Bergman spoke up, patting his friend on the shoulder. "I think we do understand. We have a community of children of our own and I too am concerned about how they will deal with those outside of the community."

Koenig wrinkled his brow and glanced at Bergman. This was news to the Commander. The professor has never expressed such concerns to him.

"Ah," Ward nodded, knowingly, "which brings us to a launching point to begin our discussions. Children. Your children. Your future. How many children do you have on this base?"

"Twelve," Bergman announced with grandfatherly pride, "with two more currently on the way."

Koenig cast a dark look at the Professor. He wasn't sure he wanted Ward to know that information. In fact, he felt certain he didn't want Ward to know it.

"Fourteen. What a brood." Ward echoed the pride. He turned toward the Commander and gazed intently. "And...where will you and the children be in, say, 25 years?"

**********

"I'm not sure I understand." Paul Morrow asserted, staring inattentively into his plastic coffee cup.

"Dr. Ward, you have stated that the Feng Yun departed from Earth using only a solid rocket, or chemical drive." Big-P Danielle took a shot--to the eternal abash of Victor Bergman who was seated beside him at the conference table. "At what point did you complete work on your GHC engine? From where did you acquire the tools and the specifications for such an overhaul?"

"You need delineation on this point?" Ward realized. "Quite so, I can do that for you. Even though I've already stated it five times before. My computations for a supralight ignition were completed three months into our voyage. I sound like a broken record." He indulged the stupidity of the group, speaking only to Helena Russell and Victor Bergman. "But I do believe that we've also discussed how the vessel was constructed with an eye towards faster-than-light travel. When Breakaway occurred, it was decided that we would complete the conversion in transit."

"And part of this construction involved perfecting a Tesla Coil?" Pete Garforth balked. He came to the command conference with no intention of grilling, but here he was, lava rocks and all. "You just put the finishing touches on some elementary physics, and BOOM--no more infinite mass?"

"The theory is sound." Victor Bergman wrangled in Ward's defense. "Just because we lacked the mathematical language then, I find it unfair to say that it didn't exist a'toll. Kransikov was convinced that the Broeck Metric was applicable, John. The tubes can be fashioned from exotic matter and classical, scalar fields.

"Not Quantum." He dismissed Pete Garforth with a gander.

"Ouma?" Koenig swiveled in his chair.

"There's nothing wrong with it in principal." The mainframe chief granted. "Tubes are created for destination, and for return. According to computer, it's not so much a problem of Delta-V, as it is bending space to suit your fancy. That's not easy to do."

"In theory, it can be done but as a practical implementation, it would not be impossible." Koenig acknowledged as he slowly glanced around the table. Bergman and Ward were relaxed as good friends. Ward nodded with approval at the taste of the Vitaseed and motioned Bergman to top off his orange mug. Helena Russell had already crossed the line from caution to optimism. Ward's persona, his friendly nature, had absorbed her into his influence. Paul Morrow sat cautiously sullen, trying to navigate the technical information in the hope it could all be true. Sandra Benes had also fallen under Ward's charm, ebullient at the thought of escaping the moon and able to go somewhere...anywhere.

Pete Garforth sat with crossed arms, not believing a word of it.

"That's why I asked Ang to say on the Feng Yun," Koenig continued. "To evaluate and verify the practical implementation of this means of travel."

**********

Harness Bull Mugabe's mouth with dry with hot, amniotic phlegm as he walked the corridors of the Services Triad, eyeing little girls with bad intent.

So creeped out was Melitta Geist, she refused to say hello.

**********

"That solution also states that it is also possible to reverse direction in a warped region." Paul Morrow divined. "Meaning, of course that it would be possible to return to Earth?"

This was not born of virulence, or sport, but of sincerity. It was the unspoken question that resided in all of them.

"It is." Emmanuel Ward answered. "But considering what conditions were like when we left, I seriously doubt whether the attempt is desirable. We left for a reason."

"I have made calculations in my spare time," Bergman stepped up to the plate to bolster Ward's position, "regarding how earth would have been affected at Breakaway."

This information was not new to Koenig or Russell. However, in the interest of morale, the three had chosen not to disclose the information...until now.

"What happened to Earth, professor?" Sandra Benes asked somewhat timidly. She wanted to know but then again, she didn't want to know. It was something she had suspected with intuition but she was never ready to acknowledge the truth with the facts.

"Perhaps you could give a more accurate description, Emmanuel." Bergman nodded.

Ward turned to the petite analysis and took her hand in his, ready to give fatherly comfort while divulging the news.

CHAPTER 5

Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.

-- Albert Einstein

So far, Angelina Carter saw nothing mechanical that would allow the Feng Yun to travel rapture corridors like back alleys. Instead, she saw a ship in dire need of repair and a power generation room in dire need of some down time for preventive maintenance. Harness Bull Pound was bored out of his mind.

Priscilla Nitrile, now friendly hostess, escorted them to the main drive room of the Feng Yun where Gordon Cooper and Alan Carter were assessing the possibilities of greater than lightspeed travel.

Kevin and Kyle Calender, who they assumed were the General's sons, held engineering responsibility for maintenance on the drive. Ang was immediately struck by how young they were. The two men could not have been more than 25 years old and were in charge of this key piece of equipment?

Another completely unrelated observation: It seemed to Angelina there was an inordinate number of twins, identical twins and even triplets, on this ship. In fact, almost everyone she met, she would later discover, have an identical twin. The exception was Pricilla Nitrile, whose 'twin' brother was a fraternal twin...and Martha Ward, who had no twin at all.

"How's it going, guys?" Angelina put a smile on her face as she and Harness Bull Pound stepped into the main drive room with Nitrile and the double doors closing behind them.

Evans was there, looking up from his microscope and prepared to work an angle.

"Aphrodite, let your light shine on this lonesome psyche." He smoozed' Ang,' taking her hand and kissing it. "Welcome to the auger...Dr. Carter."

"Nice place you have here." Alan Carter publicized his gritting teeth, and shoved his hand between Ang' and the horny machinations of a smartass cartographer. "Carter's the name, pilot and part-time orthodontist."

"Oh...." Evans shrank, regally but identifiably.

"Is this your trade?" Carter moved in on the charts. "You sit right here--on this cushion--and stare at black space, day after day. That would make me feel like a real battler. You know." He intoned with threat. "Hum-drum. Kind of worthless. How frustrated you must be--knowing that most maps are derived from reconnaissance data, and not from bucktooth geeks with their eyeballs pressed against the glass."

Martha Ward stiffened with derision, and extended a much bitten tongue.

"Without Dr. Evans' stellar solar pictures, we never would have found you." Nitrile moderated. "Our journey here required a one hundred and eighty degree course correction, and a 300 fps burn that we could ill-afford."

The propulsion expert felt unappreciated.

"And we certainly appreciate your efforts," Angelina stated diplomatically with convincing politeness while giving Carter slightly disapproving glance. There would be no fist fights today. She hoped.

"Dr. Rothchild, I think you'll find this interesting." Martha Ward pulled the specialist towards the avionics panel. "This was the great breakthrough. This is the heart of our navigation system. With this computer we can calculate the whereabouts of local, cycloid curves."

"Interesting, indeed," Rothchild acknowledge from the mathematical equation side. "It is no small thing to be able to pinpoint the location of rapture corridors and such. Our own computer can give approximations that are more like picking up breadcrumbs on a trail. It tells us where the anomaly has been and makes a statistical projection where it could be next but even then, with its unpredictable nature, it is merely a guess."

"And one guess is as good as another, yes?" Rothchild smiled shyly at Pricilla Nitrille, who seemed to return the friendliness with a genuine smile of her own.

Carter blinked. Evans' was hiding behind his telescope once more, hence his butt was readily available for the kicking, but some incipient thing drew him away from thoughts of jealousy to a higher plane of argument.

"Who needs it?" He asked Ward. "If this ship can move like a comet, why keep track of the rabbit holes?"

The pilot also didn't like the closeup exposure of Tall-T, Moonbase Alpha's central antigravity tower which lay atop the pile of shit at Evans' workstation.

"It's just another means of travel," Martha Ward shrugged. "As you can guess, the drive would require an enormous amounts of energy, energy which we really can't afford to use."

Ang wrinkled her brow to such an extent that it made her look 5 years older. Her concentration was broken by the sudden presence of two more individuals.

"Hello, Mom," the women, another set of identical twins about 20 years old, addressed Martha Ward in unison. "We have the data you requested."

"Hello girls," Martha greeted with detachment, grabbing the file from one of them. She did not look up but instead, began perusing the file. "You can leave now."

The two women appeared momentarily hurt then left. Martha continued to read the data.

"They are your daughters?" Angelina asked. It was weird. She decided Martha Ward was the coldest woman she'd ever encountered.

"Yes," Martha looked up then returned to the report. "Dana...Grace."

Evans saw the perplexed look on Ang's face. "Those young ladies have been a handful lately for Dr. Ward. They're on their Mom's shit list. Right, Martha?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," Ward mumbled, completely not caring.

"Oh, I see," Angelina replied. But really, she didn't 'see.'

***********

"ROLL TRACK." SPC Henri Clare called over the intercom from the VAB plotting room. "STAND BY FOR OFFLOADING. MAINTENANCE CREWS, PREPARE TO DETANK THE SPACECRAFT."

Astronaut Brad Bixby loved life.

He stepped off of the giant transient that carried Eagle Five into the underground processing facility. He gripped his headset with astonishment--with ocogotation and a thirst for knowledge that will never be known by the likes of Ed Malcom. The bay doors rolled upwards on a hangar that was ninety feet high--a lunar wonderland that made his pulse pound; that caused him to reel with adrenal ecstasy.

It was like seeing it for the first time.

And actually, it was.

"You are a scholar amongst men." Specialist Arafat worshipped the astronaut as they sped forward on the conveyor belt, past the fuel islands and the ever vigilant fire teams. High above, the landing pads of Eagle 2-9 waited on the crawler for transposition to the launch pad. "How did you know there was a problem with the Ku-band antennae." He stopped, chilled by an even more ominous realization. "More importantly." He showed Bixby his finger. "How were you able to repair it so deftly."

"Duct tape." The astronaut boasted proudly.

He felt free.

Willing to brave the damaging sonics, he removed his headset and tossed it to the floor. Next he removed his belt, and dropped it in the yellowbrick traces.

Free love.

Then he unzipped his tunic.

Then he dropped his flares.

He disposed of his briefs in mid stride.

"HEYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.'" Technician Southey objected loudly.

**********

On the hot seat, Harness Bull Mugabe wasn't sure why he should feel dishonor and loathsome attaint, but apparently AD Welch did.

"WHY ARE YOU STARTING THIS NOW?" His superior demanded. "BLOODY HELL, I THOUGHT YOU HAD A NUGGET UP THERE SOMEWHERE."

From every office and every corner of the security cube, they glared at him. Mugabe was humiliated.

"FROM NOW ON, YOU LOOK THE LADIES IN THE EYE." Welch protested. "DON'T GO LOOKING NOWHERE ELSE."

"Why?" Mugabe uttered with poise.

"BECAUSE THEY DON'T LIKE IT."

He clouted the bull upside his head.

**********

"No." Ward persisted as the participants of the command conference studied him with gelidity and pall. "Earth is not the answer--particularly if pole shifting did occur, and I find it likely that it did."

"That sounds...probable...." Bergman concurred with sapient belief.

"There is a substitution." The Feng Yun researcher segued, uncapping the plastic cylinder that he carried with him."

"Really?" Morrow asked hesitantly.

Ward chose this moment to unveil his final program--in this case, it came in the form of a large, 24" X 36" exposure, segmented in ghostly latitudes and longitudes. The impervious green and red disc was positioned in the center.

"The planet Thalarion." Ward presented with great await. "Rich and fertile--an undiscovered country for us, and for you." He presumed, but measured his next statement carefully. "This is no personal quest, you see; there is no grail to be had, Dr. Koenig...by me or anyone else in my crew. The lives of everyone on Moonbase Alpha depends on us finding it."

Chapter 6

"Hope waits for the waters

to still and the currents

to empty themselves of the

blood...."

--Marjory Heath Wentworth

"In a crater of dust lay my dreams,

Spoiled by the sun and battered by the rain.

In a cradle of corrosion lay my womb

Splattered and splintered by the knife that cut it,

By the hands that tore it."

--Marnel

"Not even an apple? That's terribly cruel. What the Hell are you trying to do, starve me?"

--General Calendar, AAC retired

"The Garden of Eden," Angelina Carter commented from her position at the sill of the viewport in Koenig's office. "Sounds fantastic."

It had been a whirlwind of a day. Twelve hours ago, after Dr. Ward revealed their ultimate destination, the planet Thalarion, the Red Alert klaxon blared as Nuclear Plant #2 suffered a cooling crisis. Ang, along with most of the rest of the reconnaissance party plus Martha Ward and General Calender, was summoned to return to the base. Hours later, after the replacement of two recently refabbed cooling pumps, the crisis was over but Joe Erhlich remained in the Power Generation, nose to the grindstone, looking for root cause.

At least she could sip real, 100% coffee. The thought of abandoning Moonbase Alpha and not having to be prisoner on this shitty base was also energizing her.

"So when do we leave and how soon do we get there?" Sandra Benes beamed with renewed hope. She had long exhausted her patience with living on Moonbase Dungeon as well.

"Alright Dr. Ward, you have our attention." John Koenig capped his ink pen. "Even more so, since there's nothing but black space along our current trajectory. Victor, what about-"

"Oh that? Nothing but brown dwarfs, I suspect." Bergman advanced. "A complete wasteland, John; even T.S. Eliot could not have imagined such a void." He savored the final dreggs of his Vitaseed before pushing the mug aside. "I don't believe that our encounter with the Feng Yun is providential, but...I do appreciate the timing...."

The commander leaned back in his chair and cocked his right leg over his left knee in an air of examination and dissection.

"You appear to know the whereabouts of a habitable planet." Koenig subscribed to the large photograph at the center of the table. "No one here intends to look a gift horse in the mouth. We're prepared to act on that information, but we need to know the facts before making any kind of long-term investment--good or bad; right, wrong or indifferent--the effects of a total evacuation are irreversible."

"Dr. Ward, where does this data come from?" Benjamin Ouma kicked off the debate with his inimitable frost.

"What is it like?" A rapt Paul Morrow quietly abridged. "Thalarion?"

"Thalarion is the glory of all dappled things." The researcher said resoundingly. "Weaves rainbows o'er yon mountain river." He quoted his favorite Hymn in simile. "It is Earth anew, but it is also a world that has not fallen--that has never known the corrosive effects of man, and cursed civilization. Imagine, for once, a planet that does not require redemption.

"Thalarion is Xanadu in perfect symmetry."

"Where is it?" Truman Starns solicited, grateful that he had been sent back while Pierce Quentin and the TAC Squad remained aboard the Feng Yun."

"Out there." Ward replied charismatically. "Beyond Mensa and Dorado--in a constellation so remote, so obscure, no astronomer could hope to plot more than the most general latitudes and longitudes."

"How long will it take to get there?" Ang queried from her place by the window. She preferred to stand, as did Alan Carter.

"Twenty five years," Ward replied, pulling out another ream of computer paper. Angelina's face dropped, as did others in the room. "Oh, I realize that it would seem like a long time but," he chuckled, eyes twinkling at Victor, "think of where you were 25 years ago."

Bergman smirked at the nostalgic thoughts.

"And you realize it has gone quite fast," Ward continued. He stood up and began walking around the room, an air of excitement lightening his step. "Think about it. You...we...will be very busy, preparing our children for the future. In a way, 25 years might not seem enough time for preparation." He crouched down, putting his arms around Sandra Benes and Helena Russell. "When we land, our efforts will be rewarded by giving our children the gift of a new world. Then, we can sit back and spend our senior years enjoying the natural beauty that Thalarion has to offer us. Our grandchildren will be born there, never to know the sterility of a recycled atmosphere but take real air into their lungs and all of its wonderful scents."

"It sounds wonderful, Emmanuel," Dr. Russell smiled approvingly.

"You still haven't answered my question, sir," Ouma dourly interjected. "Where did you get this data?"

Many of those present thought Ben Ouma was being rather brusque with the scientist. John Koenig was not one of the many.

**********

Over Schrödinger Crater, Eagle 2-9 was courting the Feng Yun now, making tandem revolutions on an apostrophe of gravity. The smaller ship appeared as a dingy, a launch that was adrift, even as the generation vessel was loosed, and the Moon itself was a castaway of flagitious fate.

********

"I'm genuinely sorry for what happened to your colleagues." Nitrile cantillated as she opened the containment hatch. "Much of the GHC is inaccessible. This is the part you can view without a pressure suit." She informed Hans Rothchild.

"Are we dealing with MF, or RF field density?" The astrophysicist cogitated.

"Both." Nitrile responded as she stepped over the open bulkhead with a flourish. "The combined excitation is what is limiting us from using the drive--it's also the reason why precautions had to be taken. Breach one of the carefully selected failsafes, and you'll come away as less than a babbling idiot."

"We're unprotected now, yes?" Rothchild checked his film badge.

"Colleagues?" Gordon Cooper thought of the plural. "Only one got bummed. We need to see your service block. Harms and Farendahl can do an EVA if they have to."

"Just how bad are those contaminants?" Pierce Quentin continued an interview that never really stopped.

"They're awful." Nitrile told him. "The effects on our people wrought dementia, hallucinations. A few subsumed to asphyxia but they were the happy few."

"Such a gift." Harness Bull Theylan epitomized.

It did not bring a tear to his eye.

"What a fabulous network." Rothchild forgot the risk to life and sanity, and twirled to the sound of music as Nitrile turned on the breakers and pointed her commlock at the most complex reticulation of supercomputers ever devised. The server room was easily four stories high, and over two thousand feet wide. As the floods came up, a series of diagonal catwalks, and meshed access ways were revealed, disappearing in the mechanized shadows above.

"That's keen." Coop' approved. "But about those engines?"

**********

"Laser-optic telemetry from a thousand astronomical units away." Ben Ouma carried the vendetta. "Nothing reliable can come from studying targets that are that removed." He maintained, making enemies of almost everyone seated at the round table. "We can do that here on Alpha, but to what end?"

"It's not-" Victor Bergman parried, his face scrunched' with angst.

"Yes it is." Ouma contended. "And revelations of that sort simply aren't worth the wait. Get Carroll Severance in here, and he'll tell you. Given the choice, I'd rather have a concrete possibility in the near future as opposed to some glamorous, smoking mirror in the distant future.

"We could spend the next two decades travelling to this coordinate line, and find an asteroid belt instead of a planet.

"Ludicrous."

Truman Starns scratched his lay-person's chin.

"Don't be such a biter, Ouma." Paul Morrow waged his war passionately. "Survival on Alpha is contingent on keeping an open mind. We can't just be cavaliers--picking and choosing our worlds like disappointed aristocrats. You're just angry because the information was derived through analogue and not digital sources."

"I AM NOT..." Ouma protested, jumping up but was interrupted by Angelina's commlock.

"What'd you find out, Joe?" Angelina instantly recognized the incoming number and bypassed the greeting.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing," Erhlich wearily sagged over the other end.

Ang was irked. "Reactor coolant systems don't crash because of nothing, Joe," Ang replied, keeping her lips in a thin line and attempting, but failing to hide her irritation.

"I KNOW that," Erhlich snapped back with a smartass edge. He wanted to say "Duh" but that would have been pushing it. His head pounded from the problem which did not want to be solved. "We'll run through the simulations again. Starting from the beginning." He resolved after a long pause and with mild contrition.

"You do that," Ang responded brusquely, not ready to forgive him and cut the link. "Nothing to report....yet, Commander." She glanced over at Koenig. He considered the conversation for a moment then refocused his attention to potential brighter days ahead.

"Dr. Ward, in the final analysis, this is just a frequency map." Koenig bespoke. "Hypothetically, Thalarion may exist."

"John." Bergman could no longer contain himself. He was aghast at the black comedy of these proceedings. "Look at the mass displacement, the chemical composition."

"Victor, you know as well as I do that mass displacement and chemical composition alone does not necessarily mean an earth type planet." The Commander turned neutrally toward the professor.

"But statistically, given those variables, it IS likely to be an Earth type planet," Bergman countered. Out of the corner of John Koenig's eye, he saw Alan Carter look questioningly at Angelina and she nodded slightly in agreement with her former mentor.

"Consider this," Helena Russell jumped back in. "Right now, we are on a moon whose course we cannot control. Now we have the opportunity to be on a ship. I know it is not much better than Moonbase Alpha, but at least we can control our course."

She looked around, realizing she was not the physics braintrust of the group. "Am I making sense?"

"Of course you are, my dear!" Dr. Ward beamed as if she was his prize pupil and patted her shoulder. "That makes perfect sense. You're a lucky man, John Koenig." He gave Koenig the 'attaboy' glance. "You have one remarkably intelligent woman."

Helena Russell couldn't stop herself from blushing.

"If only I could ever have such good fortune again." He smiled fondly. "I did once, you know. Martha's mother. Wonderful lady. I was the luckiest man in the universe." He nodded to Koenig. "It is good that you have found similar treasure."

It was so guppy--so diabetic ally, hypoglycemic ally sweet that it caused thoughtless, hard case Truman Starns to sour.

Koenig glowered disapprovingly at Russell and swallowed his revolt like rancid castor oil.

"Back to the subject at hand." He leaned forward on extreme elbows and he was not smiling. "I think I speak for everyone when I say that we want to leave Alpha so bad, we can taste it." He grew stern.

"Amen." Paul Morrow radiated, more from the gastric inferno in his stomach and nerves than from carrots, dangling from rods of emancipation.

"But trading one hazardous situation for another makes absolutely no sense to me." Koenig propounded. "We can pack up and leave any time, but what's the point if there's no home to go to? The Feng Yun has the resources to sustain us in the short term, but there's no way of knowing what the situation will be like ten years from now, or twenty years from now. You're resources are only slightly better than ours, and you're travelling in a vessel with a multi-engine block that's in need of repairs. We've waited a long time for this, and frankly I think our people deserve better than false hope." The commander relaxed, reclining again, but not comfortably.

Bergman stood, sucking in his gut severely.

"I don't know, John...." He said elliptically. "I think I'd listen carefully to what Dr. Ward has to say."

The commander regarded them with a cross brow.

"I should have emphasized this at the beginning." The other researcher apologized, staring meekly at the floor. "It may have helped to illustrate the urgency that we face. Dr. Koenig, understand, if you remain on Alpha there is even less hope."

"The Z-Burst phenomenon?" Bergman recalled.

Ward nodded.

"We took the liberty of deep field imaging the Moon's present course. A month from now, you will begin to encounter space debris and toxic levels of radiation so high that your electronic blisters can't protect you." He forwarded the good news, and then the bad. "A month after that, Moonbase Alpha will be consumed in a cosmic fireball, emanating from an unstable variable star.

"The breakdown is such that nothing can survive in this compass of space.

"By all means." He invited Ouma. "Consult your master computer. I've been over the data a dozen times myself."

"Rubbish," Ouma spat. "I looked over the astral projections two days ago and there is no such garbage minefield and eminent firebomb in our future. In fact, in two months, we'll be on the edge of another solar system with some promising possibilities."

"It's true," Ang backed up Ben Ouma, as she set her empty cup on the sill, "I saw the data myself and I can't see how such a bleak future could have escaped our cartographers or even central computer."

"Besides," the Technical Operations Director went on, "the Z-Burst phenomenon is purely theoretical in nature." She straightened her tunic. The more she thought about it the more pieces where missing from the puzzle. "Same with greater than lightspeed travel. With all due respect, I saw nothing on that ship which could allow you to travel such velocities. Nothing at all."

"Dr. Ward, I'm not trying to recreate an inquisition and I am not trying to be rude. But so far, we have not been able to corroborate what you are telling us."

**********

Betcha by golly wowwwwwwwww...

...you're the one that I've been waiting for....

...forEVVVErrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr....

They brought Harness Bull Allwyn in--just in time to be trepanned with bad, Rhythm and Blues on the center's canned music server. Bob Mathias' skull pounded from an evening of CAT Scans and numerous, unsuccessful advances from Yasko Nugami--the butt ugliest woman on the Moon. He stepped through the double doors like a slug, and was immediately accosted by the dentist.

Anne Delline was there too, having a bad hair day, and pushing back her badly strung pony tail while trying to take a blood pressure reading from streaker extraordinaire, Brad Bixby. Call it a sign of the times--no longer was this a valorous, gamy medical unit. Now, it was the Funny Farm, with Bozos and bland, crazy folks who wore their misery well.

"I don't respect you for that." The physician told Giovanni D'Antoni, who was attempting to hide the noose burn with a suave, paisley Carey Grant scarf.

"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT." The services technician contended. "I WAS TRYING TO HANG A RUBBERTREE PLANT."

He showed him his catheter tube, expectant of pity.

"Really?" Mathias dry swallowed Tylenol. "Well, I hope you don't have a sex life because I'm putting you on Prozac...forever."

"GIVE ME MY H21." The dentist soon got in his face. "I NEED IT. MY NOVOCAINE."

"You need nerve blockers, do you?" Mathias baited.

"YES."

"Then you will have them." The physician replied and dumped the cup of cold coffee on his antagonist's head.

"Don't fuck with Bob." Mathias murmured as he sought refuge behind the vycor of his office window. He halted, noticing that Allwyn was parked there in his wheelchair. "What seems to be your malfunction?" He quizzed.

The Harness Bull drooled over his beard stubble.

"That bad is it?" Mathias noted, and closed the door with his commlock.

**********

"Commander, think of the risk." Paul Morrow railed in Ward's defense. "Computer has been wrong before."

"That's an understatement." Carter said to the aside. "Besides...this here deal...." For a moment, he seemed lost in contemplation, in tired words. "Let's face it--for years now, we've given it a go. And the result? What we're doing here doesn't seem to be working. It might not hurt to try a different angle."

"At the very least, I can guarantee you that no one will expire as a result of gross, vitamin deficiencies, and badly formulated pain medications." Ward snubbed. "From what I've heard, both situations have happened on Alpha, at least once.

"As to your other statement, you're quite mistaken. Our recycling system aboard the Feng Yun is state of the art, Dr. Koenig, for all its faults. None of you will ever hunger, nor will you thirst. We have provisions for a thousand people, to be consumed over a period of years--an ample amount to sustain us on this brief, brief voyage.

"By contrast, you have attempted to be self-supporting on a base that was too dependent on cargo transfers from Earth--not to impune your successes because I am sure they have been many."

She was truly straddling the fence. Angelina Carter wanted the prospect of a brighter tomorrow, the promise of a new world, at the end of this unwilling journey. However....there were too many questions, too many holes in the data.

Despite the holes, Alan, Paul and even Dr. Ward made very valid points.

"That is true," Ang acknowledged tentatively. "Dr. Russell also made a valid point. Even if our astral projections are correct and there is nothing at the end of the trip...."

"Which, I assure you, there is," Dr. Ward interrupted, though not rudely: more in the guise of a gentle, comforting parent.

"Wouldn't we be better off," Ang continued, rubbing exhausted eyes "in an artificial environment where we can control our travel rather than one where we could not control our travel?"

Koenig stared at Ang. Ouma's stance was mainly in defense of computer. Angelina, probably unwittingly, had presented some valid concerns regarding abandoning Moonbase Alpha. Now she seemed to give up.

"There have been many occasions in the past where we faced the possibility of leaving Alpha in the Eagles because the moon was headed toward potential destruction," Sandra Benes concurred, reminding them of this fact.

Koenig studied every person in the room. "There has been much discussion but before a decision is made, we should still review the report of the survey team." The Commander pronounced finally. "Any decision we make, should not be a rash one and we should consider the facts, pro and con. We do have time on our side at this point."

He stared evenly at Dr. Ward.

"Of course, Commander," Ward smiled warmly, though Koenig sensed he was merely making a PR gesture. "You are wise to take time to make an informed decision. We are eager to welcome you aboard, to become part of our community, so that we may begin our voyage together. Every day we wait is just another day longer until we reach Thalarion."

"And we aren't getting any younger," Sandra Benes added for emphasis. "Commander, I suggest after the facts are presented and if it still looks promising, we vote. Majority vote would rule and we would abide by the majority."

Koenig put on his black, bone-rimmed reading glasses and busily opened the huge red binder that sat before him, turning the pages in lumps to the section that had eluded them so many times before.

"I concur." He told the services manager. "Polling will begin as soon as we receive word from the DC party.

"Until then, this meeting is adjourned." He called, placing a final, yellow sticky note on one of the folder's beige partitions.

The room emptied then, with Victor Bergman favoring him with a sympathetic, unenvious eye as followed Ward into the access corridor. Koenig remained seated, regarding Helena Russell in a tableau of silent deliberation.

"Shall we begin Phase Three planning?" Morrow asked after everyone else was gone. "Just in case?"

The commander nodded.

Chapter 7

"He killed the noble Mudjokovis. Of the skin he made him mittens,

Made them with the fur side inside, Made them with the skin side outside. He, to get

the warm side inside, Put the inside skin side outside; He, to get the cold

side outside, Put the warm side fur side inside. That's why he put the fur

side inside, Why he put the skin side outside, Why he turned them inside

outside."

--Anonymous (From "Parody Anthology")

"Forgive me my nonsense as I also forgive the nonsense of those who think they talk sense."

--Robert Frost

"Illogic is a way of life...you must understand that."

--General Calendar, AAC retired

Angelina Carter gasped and sat upright in bed, breathing heavily and drenched in