THE GALAXYMBION ODYSSEY

Overhead a sullen sky remained cloudless as always, everything stained with dull yellow light wrung from the nearby remnant of a cool, dying star. Oddplace, for want of a better name, was how the stranger and sole occupant of this planetoid referred to it. He had been marooned here for several revs, yet it seemed like an eternity on this lifeless, barren rock. No water, no vegetation, no animals, no shelter. He was becoming hungry and tired, almost delirious. And now there were visitors on Oddplace; although he could not see them or their vessel clearly, he was convinced that they were trouble. If only he could see distinctly; his eyesight particularly suffered because of his general condition. He returned back up the mountain the way he had descended, careful to avoid being noticed. Picking his way cautiously along shallow promontories, he proceeded with extreme alertness over a carpet of sharp crystalline growths.

They looked like glass flower outcroppings surrounded by fans of tapering, grass shaped ‘leaves’, yet he knew they were only crystalline formations. The geology here was weird, difficult to understand. These ‘flowers’ looked dangerous to fall upon; only their upper surfaces gave their presence away, striated with blue cuprous beads that stood out against the grey sandy soil below them. He worried if the invaders had noticed him and if they would hunt him down. They were obviously here to plunder these minerals, wherever here was. A tempting idea crossed the stranger’s mind; he could double back and take their vessel, then get away from this place. Where would he go? At least he might have some food. What if they don’t eat or they eat something poisonous to him? He abandoned this delirium and staggered forward, slowly circumventing each ‘flower’.

What have you done? Who are your people? Where do you come from? Why were you left here? Why can you remember almost nothing about yourself, your life, your purpose in the cosmos? These questions kept spinning around his head, interweaving and knitting together, twisting and turning through his consciousness, nearly driving him mad. He picked up his pace, lost in thought. So lost that he failed to notice a pink nebulosity coalesce up ahead, until he was almost upon it. He froze into a statue for a few lapses, then changed direction and broke into a near run. The cloud followed, and he knew nothing for half a perchron, except running. Running on empty, and now not merely on a mountainside of the Plataka Range, but trapped on a ledge with only one way out.

The cloud held position blocking that sole escape route. Heat combined with exertion made the stranger extremely thirsty; any longer without water and he would dehydrate. Then his hallucination spoke to him.

“I will not harm thee, Mirek. Let me help thee.”

“What are you, abomination, what are you? Leave me alone!” he blurted out in desperation to relieve himself of this nightmare.

“I can help. Be calm. I will take thee to water.”

“There is no water here. This place is barren, dead, empty of life. Except for me and you, if you even exist, and invaders.”

“I exist. Come, I will show thee water. Look passed me to your left; beyond the rockface in the valley you will see a small pool – Well of Turquoise Eye. I can take you there and at last you can drink.”

The stranger looked cautiously to his left, keeping one eye’s sight on the apparition. Sure enough in the near distance, at a lower level where the mountain thrust forward in an oasis of flat, cobalt-grey rock, a pool of black liquid glistened in the powdery sand. Why was it black, this water? Probably just refraction of the grey from the sand around it. It would have to be about twenty micrals deep to cause such refraction, he thought. He looked fully at the cloud. “Move away, whatever you are. Let me pass.”

“As you wish. Really I will not harm thee.” The pink nebulosity hovered back from the mountain until it was positioned over the abyss. “There, now you may proceed more easily”.

Mirek picked his steps most carefully, all the while intently maintaining his stare in that strange cloud’s direction. His first revs on Oddplace had not gone well so far, and he was entirely convinced that everything here represented a force of hostility. For him life meant fostering a harmonious passage through nature, avoiding confrontation and preserving the delicate balances of the cosmos. He wondered which great philosopher had taught him that. The cloud remained a respectable distance away, allowing him to proceed down layered boulders as if they were giant steps.

“You see, I do not harm thee.”

“Just keep your distance; don’t get anywhere near me.”

“I cannot harm thee, one who is in urgent need of the water. I will stay back.”

At last he stumbled forward onto his knees at the water’s edge and thrust his hands into the cool soothing liquid. Its beautiful freshness calmed his dry throat and mouth, so he scooped up handful after handful of heaven, drinking and splashing himself, washing his hands and face liberally. The cloud remained behind at a respectful distance, observing him silently. He sensed happiness from it. Presently he stood and turned back to where it still hovered. “Thank you. Do you have a name, apparition?”

No answer. And without warning the apparition lurched forward straight at him. He tripped backwards, landing in the pool with a considerable splash, face up. The cloud hovered over him, remaining stationery. “Sleep,” was all it said before vanishing. He tried to stand, even as the water was solidifying and thrusting columns of jet-black oily thickness into the air around him, blotting out sky and sun. He fainted. Night came, followed by light, one rev smoothly flowing into the next. In the cocoon there was no time and all time, no space and all space. Decorbs came and went, seasons on this barren planetoid fading in and fading out. His fever subsided, if fever it had been, and his cocoon sensed his recovery, crumbling around him. He opened his eyes.

2796/2047

Peaceful, so peaceful. The stranger sat up, gentle black water smoothly rolling off him like water off oil and returning to the pool now transformed into a gentle turquoise shade. He decided to call this place where he had talked to that cloud, then fallen in the water and been encased in a cocoon of inky slime, Rinx Bay and the Pool of Turquoise Eye. This planetoid, which he had named Oddplace, had once been inhabited by gentle beings – glowing blue lights floating through a balmy atmosphere almost a million orbits ago. When the star had lost its internal nuclear battle and expanded, The Rinx had been forced to evolve and leave, journeying originally to Falda, where they adapted to a new atmospheric chemistry and became green. They were cosmic travellers, roaming the vastness of time and space until finding suitable worlds. In their highest evolutionary incarnation they discovered Kytonia and become Weethis and the Brethren. Mirek had learned all this whilst sleeping in the sustaining cocoon for nearly two planetary orbits. The black water cocoon and that pink cloud seemed to him conscious remnants of those ancient blue energy creatures - The Rinx – though fused with something else. Something obsidian and arcane, immensely powerful and mysterious.

He stood up and surveyed his surroundings, smiling, no longer possessed of hunger, thirst, fatigue, illness, injury or discomfort. His amnesia was gone and he felt complete, as he was meant to be, fused with his Niva. A gift had been given which had made him strong, powerful, without emptiness or fear, without pain or doubt, without limits of past or future, almost fused with reality itself. For no apparent reason he uttered a few words calmly, almost silently. “I am Mirek of Kolda-ra, Last Paladin of Iloa.”

Power was down to only 5%. Carrier 4 had repaired itself as much as it could nonetheless take-off was out of the question, even in this low gravity well. It had been here approximately two of the planetoid’s orbits and wondered if its messages home had been received or even intercepted by anyone traversing interstellar space. Anything could have happened; the probe had no way of knowing, stuck on a dead world in an impaired condition. On the seven hundred and twelfth rev of its internment Carrier 4 was as usual conserving energy in standby mode. It had managed to repair some more R.E.D panels; energy absorption was limited, so it turned itself off as much as possible to retain reserve power. Its sentient computer knew that it was only a matter of time before a rescue vessel arrived, if the beacon was operating correctly, and decided not to dwell on the matter.

“Hello! What are you doing out here then?” Carrier 4 woke up and was immediately shocked by the presence of a cloaked figure whose head was now stuck through its service hatch and who appeared to be attempting to interface with its systems.

“Identify yourself, intruder. Back away and discontinue your actions until your identity is established and your benevolence proven.”

“Okay,” the being said pleasantly, pulling itself out of the service hatch and jumping down to the sandy grey ground. “I am Mirek Taro, Last Paladin of Iloa. You look like an Aldebaran 1 probe. How did you end up here?”

“Be quiet, intruder” Carrier 4 announced, resealing its service hatch. “I will scan you to ascertain your true identity, since Iloa is on Kolda-ra and we are on a lifeless planetoid near the galactic perimeter.” A faint green light swept up and down Mirek. “Curious, you are Kolda-rian, yet somehow different. Explain, Mirek Taro, Last Paladin of Iloa. How did you access my service hatch without my knowledge or consent? Let me scan your identity disc.”

“I lost my disc when I was sent here. Your service hatch locking mechanism was broken, I just fixed it for you. Now, my mechanical friend, if you will just let me take another look at your damage, I should be able to get you partially operational. How far ahead have you got with your self-repairs?”

“Remain where you are, Mirek Taro. Your identity has not yet been confirmed.”

“You know that I am Kolda-rian. Therefore, I am from a FOUNDER world. You are programmed to respond positively to citizens of FOUNDER worlds. Comply, otherwise both of us could be stranded here forever.”

“Negative; identity not yet confirmed. Remain where you are or my defence system will be engaged.”

“Not with your current level of damage, Carrier 4.”

“How can you know my designation? You have not yet gained access to my memory. Explain.”

“That is easy, my friend. It’s written on your side.”

“Oh. I had forgotten that. Perhaps you can tell me the Universal Command Code?”

“Tavra 47-K-39”

“Planetary Defence Corps Universal Command Code confirmed. Please stand in front of my scanning plate for retina and genetic analysis.” The figure did as asked. “Thank you; processing. Retina and genetic analysis completed. Searching on-board Kolda-rian registry. Located; genetic and citizenry database entries accessed. Mirek Taro, First registration; archaeologist and Last Paladin of Iloa, born -19507 and died -19135 Iloa province, Parents Jen Taro and Mirek Olara. No genetic information. Second registration; Pilot in Planetary Defence Corps, born 2743 Tirian Citadel recorded as missing on Kytonia 2770, Parents Jen Taro and Mirek Olara, genetic identity confirmed. Third Registration; historic records incomplete and unconfirmed – Iloa Citadel 2741 to 2750, bonded to Aramek Skane – son listed as Rilmuta Skane, no genetic or origin information available.”

“That’s me. All three of them.”

“Impossible,” the computer retorted. “Nevertheless, we are both stranded here. Even if you are insane, you claimed you can help repair me? Insane help is better than none.”

“That’s right.”

“Very well. I will ignore all discrepancies in your citizenry registrations, together with your apparent mental aberrations, and release my systems to your control. You may return to the service hatch and interface with my diagnostic ports.”

“Thank you,” the stranger said, jumping back up onto the Aldebaran’s nose cone and pushing his head through the once more opened hatch. “You know, the first thing you need is more power, my friend. You have been here for a long time, about the same as me. I was sent here to recover you. You have important information for the Galaxymbion.”

“Where is your transport?” Carrier 4 enquired. “You seem to be alone. I have scanned no other Galaxymbion vessel in the vicinity of this planetoid; only Shazandern gem prospectors have visited Elvakay since I have been here.”

“Elvakay? So that’s where I am. My journey is a long story.”

“We appear to have plenty of time,” the computer commented. It must have been around the planetoid’s midnight when Mirek finally stopped working on the Aldebaran. He was not tired though and had managed to discharge energy from himself into the Aldebaran’s power cells, a feat which had led to two perchrons of discussion and debate with the probe’s logically reasoning computer. The Aldebaran’s energy levels were now at 33.8% and most of its systems fully repaired. Mirek found that he could manipulate time and matter at sub-atomic level, which was convenient when faced with resources not immediately available. Having remembered everything about his life, he fully understood his purpose and destiny and was determined to get Carrier 4 back to full strength so that he could leave Elvakay.

Serendipity had been here before, its crew familiar with the area. It was an unremarkable ghost of a solar system, only interesting to them due to its rich mineral content. Fourteen decorbs out of Shazander and here they were again; it was too much for some people.

“Hurry up you two buffoons, or we will never get this expedition over with.”

“Close your mouth, oh mistress of iniquity,” Panvostin shot back at her, “I am your senior commander”. The other ‘buffoon’ remained silent.

“And my name is Eleena, daughter of Darvo, oh king of a thousand twits. Senior, huh! Senior what? Senior buffoon!”

The third member of the triad chose to remain silent throughout the exchange, whilst a rotund, short man with tousled oily black hair and a white quasi-military suit swivelled his captain’s chair round to face the action. “Knock it off, you pair of mindless morons.”

Panvostin laughed gently but Eleena looked positively insulted.

“I have had enough of your senseless bickering. The two of you have been completely insufferable ever since leaving our solar system. Bicker, bicker, bicker. We are about to enter Elvakay’s atmosphere and you are still at each other’s throats. The whole damn trip, squabble, squabble, squabble. No wonder you never rise in the corporation.”

“Mindless moron, huh? Well next time, Mr big boss Olrinky II, you can find another bloody navigator to guide you to this prehistoric dump to collect boring, stupid minerals or gems, because I won’t be here on this crummy old rust-bucket anymore.”

“If you are not on this crummy old rust-bucket anymore, you demented little courtesan, you will be back in the slums where I found you. And as for you Panvostin, might I remind you that your performance review is scheduled for our return? It is hardly going to be a decent one if you keep giving me headaches.”

“Curses,” Panvostin muttered, quite unperturbed by his rotund captain’s threats. Olrinky II rolled his eyes up. “There’s another vessel on the surface, night-side, sir. I could swear it was not here when we last visited.”

“WHAT?” squawked Olrinky at the top of his lungs. He bolted out of his seat and sidled over to Panvostin’s databoard, looking over the reconnaissance officer’s shoulders. “Any idea whose?”

“Too far away at the moment, captain. It seems to be a small probe which has greater power spikes than anything that small should have. We will be in range for more detailed scans soon.”

“Keep on it; I don’t want any nasty surprises like that time in the Benkarla Nebula; we can’t risk another confrontation with the Makris Corporation’s brain-dead goons.” He returned to his seat, swivelling it to face his communications officer. “Get me engineering, Bekron. Ah, chief engineer Sarimky; we’ve detected another vessel on the surface. Can we rely on you to provide all the power we might need for possible hostilities?”

Sarimky’s strained voice returned reproachfully. “If you would bother to maintain this vessel properly it might actually hold together as well as the Makris freighters we meet. Last time we were here our sensors malfunctioned, remember? We also had to land on manual pilot, because our computer is a prehistoric wreck. Just pay the money and have Serendipity upgraded.”

“What is it with everyone today?” Olrinky complained, mostly to himself, since nobody was actually listening. His self-pitying moment was rudely interrupted by Panvostin.

“Approaching planetoid’s outer atmosphere; orbital descent calculated. Initiating detailed surface scans now.”

“Make sure whoever it is doesn’t see us. Get their registry; I want to know what culprit is poaching on our patch.”

“The vessel appears to be too small for a crew, although there is one life reading nearby. Registry is indecipherable. I don’t think they have seen us yet.”

“Good. Lay in a parabolic course and set us down the other side of the Plataka Mountain Range. Standard issue weapons and night-side field kits to everyone, AND positively no firing unless we absolutely have to. Eleena, perhaps you could take the initiative when we land? Our buffoons will probably botch it.”

“Of course. Do you want prisoners?”

“Such an archaic concept, girl. I told you a thousand times. We don’t take prisoners, we just detain people temporarily so that they can help us complete our operations.”

Eleena stuck her tongue out at Olrinky II and he wondered, for the fifth time that day, what he had done to deserve working with such people.

“Touchdown in 5-4-3-2-1 – successful landing, sir. Serendipity is safely planetside,” Panvostin called out momentarily.

“Alright, the three of you get moving; you know what to do. I will be on the third hover-platform. And try not to ruin any merchandise. That includes any living things you encounter.”

“What if they try to ruin us?” Eleena countered.

“Cantankerous harlot!” Olrinky II snapped.

Mirek reacted quicker than Carrier 4 to the orbital intrusion. He could tell it was not a meteor or a Galaxymbion rescue vessel. “Track it, in case they double back, and lock all your systems unless I authorise release. I am going to the mountains to observe and determine our response.”

“How did you detect them before me?”

“Never mind that, Carrier 4. I am going now.”

Eleena jumped on the best hover-platform available and whooshed off in a real hurry through the cargo bay doors, almost knocking two junior crewmen over. “Curses,” Panvostin muttered to himself. “Almost getting casualties before the fight.”

“Shall we pursue her?” asked Nilsa, a duty engineer standing casually at the hangar bay door controls.

“No, let’s hope she finds hell and stays there. In loving memory of Eleena, whose body looks kind yet who’s cruel of mind,” he muttered. “Okay, the rest of you; mount up and move out. We’ll come at them from two sides and overhead. Captain?”

Olrinky II tried to climb up onto the nearest platform, since Eleena had pinched his custom-made model with lower side mountings. He couldn’t manage it, so two crew assisted him.

From his mountainous vantage point Mirek rested against a large boulder and surveyed the intruders. He understood their emanations of hostility, based on the misapprehension that he and Carrier 4 were rivals seeking mineral resources. He understood there would be no open hostility, unless they were provoked; the leading hover-platform, however, was occupied by a rather aggressive female. He decided that an open approach would be best, and caused a nearby rock, full of sparkling diamonds, to overheat in order to draw her attention.

Eleena noticed the resulting flare of light, halfway up the mountainside, and pushed the throttle down to gain height. She steered recklessly toward that light, a careless giveaway by whoever was here. Amateurs! The possibility of there being a benign ambush, or a peaceful alien with blue skin wearing a religious style cloak, never dawned on her. She barked a report into her intercom. “Follow me up to the widest ledge, you losers; our friends have clumsily given their location away.”

Olrinky managed to say “be careful, it could be a tr…” before she cut him off. This intruder was to be her prize. Skilfully she cut the engine a mere 20 micrals above ground and leaped off the platform before it dropped with a loud thump, scattering dust and pebbles, gems and minerals. She hit the sand running and loading her energy rifle simultaneously, then skittered to a stop behind a large rock. Holding out to her left a periscope on its powered telescopic mount, she could see a figure in a cloak walking carefully toward her hiding place. It appeared unarmed and certainly did not attempt to attack the periscope. She retracted the device, holstered it and whirled out of hiding, hoping to frighten her prey as she snarled and pointed her energy rifle at its forehead. The man was tall, young, with light blue skin and white hair. His eyes did not shine with light reflected by her rifle’s searchlight. That was odd; all eyes reflect light, she thought.

“Halt, creature,” was all she said, rather unnecessarily since he already had. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“Mirek Taro. Looking for a way to escape from this planetoid and return home.”

“Huh, if you did not want to come here then why did you? And what is the matter with your vessel? Don’t lie, we detected it from orbit. Why not use that to go home, wherever home is?”

“Kolda-ra.”

“Kolda-what?”

“Kolda-ra. My home world is Kolda-ra. The vessel you detected is damaged; it had a rather unfortunate argument with a cosmic lightning storm some time ago and has been stuck here ever since. That phenomenon has since visited an inhabited planet its people call Shazander. It will destroy that planet’s atmosphere, if it has not already done so.”

“What did you say? I am from… Ahem, I know of Shazander. How do you know so much about this sector unless you are some form of spy, and how can you speak Shazandern if you are not a spy?”

“You speak Shazandern; the language is calibrated in your memory. I don’t really know a lot about this sector, except what I can pick up from your dim thoughts and recollections.”

The other hover-platforms were setting down now, and Mirek found five energy rifles trained on him. A rather round individual in a neat white suit had to be helped off the third platform, and then proceeded to walk to the front of its comrades. It had no rifle. It spoke. “So, look what we have here; a blue alien monk. And who might our religious friend be exactly, Eleena, since mercifully you have resisted shooting it? Have the two of you had a romantic chat yet? Soft music, a restaurant meal, a little dancing, some shufty-wufty, perhaps?”

Eleena ignored the jibes. “It calls itself Mirek Taro. Says it comes from Kolda-ra, wherever the hell that is. Anyway, it knows a lot about this sector and be careful; it claims it can read minds. Speaks Shazandern also, so probably a spy. Says it crashed here because of some cosmic storm which is headed to Shazander. Says the storm will play hell with our… the atmosphere there.”

“Okay, I’ll take over,” Olrinky II announced, pumping himself up a little. “Now, Mr Taro, I don’t know where you are really from or what you are really doing here on this little planetoid, so I’ll give you ten seconds to talk convincingly enough that I won’t have to ask my comrades to pump you full of holes. I would much rather put you in our brig and chat with you than have you perforated; so many forms to fill out for the authorities. Who are you really?”

“I am Mirek Taro, really.”

“Humph. Where are you really from, Mirek Taro really?”

“Kolda-ra. Really.”

“There is no planet called Kolda-ra really, in this whole quadrant. I ask you again, where are you really from?”

“Kolda-ra. It is a Galaxymbion FOUNDER planet in the KORA Quadrant.”

“Aha! Now we are getting somewhere. Galaxymbion, eh? Well the nearest Galaxymbion world round here is Belvandara. That is too far away for such a jaunt in a little bitty module like the one over the other side of these mountains; the vessel which you claim to have crashed in. As for KORA Quadrant, that’s so far away you wouldn’t get here in less than ten lifetimes. Although you don’t look Belvandaran. You’re too short and too blue.”

That bought a ripple of laughter from Olrinky’s crew. Mirek smiled and blinked briefly, the light of several torches making his retinas feel uncomfortable. “I did not claim to have crashed, captain Olrinky II. The vessel you detected is an Aldebaran 1 from Belvandara. I am not of that world. I was sent here on an important mission by Weethis and The Brethren.”

The rotund captain looked around his crew, mumbling “what did he say, what did he say?” to which he received various answers. Only that from Eleena referred specifically to what had caught the captain’s attention.

“He called you captain Olrinky II. Sir.”

“How do you know my name, stranger?” the captain barked with a little annoyance, though mostly with fear.

“Your consciousness told me. And this fine lady is Eleena. Over there is Panvostin, and to your right Jenver, Tokrin and Inegry. You are from a vessel called Serendipity; a small cruiser with a skeleton crew, working for your own Olrinky Corporation. You mine various worlds, usually uninhabited, collecting precious gems to make personal ornamentation, or minerals for scientific use. You are concerned that I might be from your arch rival, the Makris Corporation. I am not.”

“So you say, creature,” Eleena interjected. “Can I shoot it, captain?”

“No! No shooting. As you can see, Mr Mirek Taro, if that is your real name, my young lady colleague here has a, shall we say, passion for shooting things. Sometimes, if you catch her in the right mood, and she likes you, she will simply take you to her bed and have fun. I am not sure which is worse. Either way, I am afraid we cannot accept your preposterous story. You, sir, are a spy. A telepathic spy. A telepathic spy with blue skin who thinks he is some religious hermit and talks of Brethren sending him here across the galaxy. In short, you are our guest and very likely a lunatic, however we still invite you to help us with our important work here. Panvostin, put safety restraints on him and let’s go have a look at his titchy little spaceship.”

Mirek had huge heavy manacles placed around his wrists and ankles and was then unceremoniously yanked up onto the first hover-platform, piloted by Eleena, and fixed to a sturdy railing with heavy chains. In the background Olrinky II, being helped back up onto an ungainly platform, was cursing under his breath about Eleena appropriating ‘his’ modified one. Mirek was not worried about the Shazanderns; they were a primitive species, and rather comical, but in over their heads as far as cosmic affairs were concerned. He needed to make them understand somehow that their home planet probably no longer existed. Eleena powered up and they floated over the lowest mountain peak, followed by the others.

“You are quite handsome. For an alien spy, that is. Are you married, Mr Taro?”

“I have two wives.”

“What a waste,” she humphed. “Divorce them both.” She winked.

When they arrived near Carrier 4 Olrinky II remained where he was, buckled in on a passenger bench. Eleena seemed confident to take leadership of this section of their meeting, even though Panvostin was obviously senior to her. Mirek noted that Olrinky II looked on in mild amusement fused with slight annoyance, whilst Panvostin maintained a reserved countenance. Mirek could sense that Panvostin was bothered by Eleena’s defiant attitude toward him, although secretly he admired her physique and wanted her. He kept quiet and tolerated her strange, irreverent behaviour, because of his feelings. She was looking carrier 4 up and down and grumbling.

“Where’s the access hatch on this convoluted contraption? Piece of twisted Galaxymbion junk.”

“Insolent baggage,” Carrier 4’s computer retorted on external speakers, apparently suffering from some form of mechanical neurosis. The ‘baggage’ in question took a step back in mild surprise. “Open up or I’ll blast you,” she threatened it.

“You will do nothing of the kind,” Olrinky shouted from his position of comfort. “If that is a Galaxymbion vessel it will be of considerable value to us, providing you don’t go all trigger-happy on us and mess its circuits up.”

“Okay, talking Galaxymbion machine. Let’s put it another way; over there we have your crewman. If you do not open your access hatch and cooperate we will blast him into a million pieces, understand?” Olrinky II was cradling his head in his hands, possibly even crying.

“Threats will not work, insolent baggage,” the computer said. Panvostin and the others were in fits of mirth whilst Olrinky II appeared to be having a nervous breakdown.

“Perhaps I can help,” Mirek called from the luxury hover-platform. “Carrier 4 will only respond to orders from Galaxymbion FOUNDER species.”

Eleena returned to the platform, unclipped the chains connecting his leg manacles to a side rail and beckoned him forward with the muzzle of her rifle. He jumped down quite easily, despite his chains and heavy manacles. Hmmm, fit, Eleena thought to herself. “Tell that gibbering contraption to reveal its registration and open its access hatch,” was what she actually stated aloud, “or I’ll start de-atomising you.”

Mirek took three steps forward, turned to her and said quite matter-of-factly, “I don’t need these restraints any more,” whereupon all braces and clamps fractured and fell to sandy ground with loud ‘whumps’. Eleena gaped at this scene, open-mouthed. “How did you…?”

Ignoring her, he continued walking until he was within touching distance of Carrier 4. “Declare your registration in Shazandern to our guests and unlock your access hatch.”

“These are not Galaxymbion citizens. They are thick idiots.”

“I know that, Carrier 4. I am a Galaxymbion citizen. Retain safety code Neptunium 9. You may allow this vitriolic woman behind me to enter your cabin and see the Event Recorder visuals from your encounter with the temporal lightning.”

“That information is for FOUNDER citizens only. I should not divulge anything to these pathetic troglodytes”

“These pathetic troglodytes come from Shazander, a planet right in that storm’s last known trajectory. I am authorising you to open your access hatch and replay recent Event Recorder information. Code Neptunium 9. Over-ride authorisation Mirek Taro, citizen of Kolda-ra.” A slight whoosh of air signalled that Carrier 4 had relaxed its vacuum seals. “You can confirm Carrier 4’s registration now, and enter its compartment safely when ready,” he told Eleena.

She stepped forward and pointed a slim decoder in Carrier 4’s direction. “Vessel Identity Confirmation. Designation; ‘Carrier 4’, type; Aldebaran 1 automated probe. Registry; Belvandara Space Corps. Mission; Extra-galactic mapping; intergalactic expedition. Target; Galaxy Andromeda.” She looked pleased with herself, then saw the outline of Carrier 4’s access hatch. No handles, levers or buttons. “How am I supposed to get through a door with no pissing handle on it?” Olrinky was blubbering.

“Don’t blast it open, for God’s sake,” he whimpered.

Mirek placed his left hand over an interface panel that looked exactly like all the other panels. The hatch evaporated, amazing the assembled mineral prospectors. He indicated that Eleena could climb into the small space and showed her the nearest viewing panel. “Okay, Carrier 4, begin playback of temporal lightning storm,” he told the computer.

Eleena watched the screen images intently, trying to find some signs of trickery or fakery. There were none, and her face became increasingly serious as lapses passed. Presently she left Carrier 4 and looked at her colleagues. “If that probe’s data is correct the storm will have already impacted on our solar system. We should try contacting the Supreme Chancellor to ascertain how bad things are.”

“Yes,” muttered Olrinky II. Then, to a small flat communicator pad, “Call Supreme Chancellor Tvor’s office and ask what is happening back home. Send the message on pulse-wave stream.” Serendipity’s communications officer could be heard giving a formal ‘yes, sir’. Six people waited quietly for a few lapses, until Olrinky’s communicator beeped. “Yes, I am in charge here. What do you mean, you’re the salvage vessel Trion, sixteen months out of Shazander? Stop crying, man, I can’t hear what you are saying properly. I am Olrinky II, captain of the star vessel Serendipity. We are gem prospectors, currently on Elvakay. What is your status? I can’t hear your words clearly if you keep babbling and blubbering. What do you mean destroyed twelve months ago? What? The whole solar system?” Olrinky II turned very pale indeed. “Oh no, everything’s gone. I don’t know what we will do, either, Trion. I will call you back.”

Mirek admired the restraint this motley crew showed as their leader told them that only they and a few deep space frigates had survived a collision between their solar system and a cosmic electron storm the size of three solar systems. Shazander’s atmosphere and all life on it had been obliterated in a few lapses; nothing was left. Eleena found a bush to be sick behind.

“What do we do now, sir?” Panvostin asked. “We have no home to return to. All our friends and relatives are gone. We have nothing left of our past or our culture.”

“I have no idea what to do”, the crestfallen Olrinky II whimpered. “Let me think.”

Mirek turned around, his back to Carrier 4. “I grieve with all of you, nevertheless we cannot stay here grieving. Carrier 4 is as repaired as I can make it without proper equipment and materials. It cannot yet achieve enough power to return to interstellar space. Our probe is carrying visual and statistical information vital to the survival of our entire galaxy, possibly even beyond that. You have a vessel that is still operational. It is possible we could boost Serendipity with Carrier’s remaining power, however, Carrier itself needs to ride in Serendipity to break gravity. Each of you could seek asylum on a NEXUS world; build new lives for yourselves.”

Only Eleena was not in tears, although Mirek could see that she almost was. Instead of crying buckets she was busy beating the life out of an innocent rock with her rifle butt. Mirek sat down and waited patiently, giving them all time to collect their thoughts and emotions.