Thoss World
Narssuss City

Ssrak darted down the ramp of a freighter named Hezzy Tu and ducked into the shadows of the spaceport’s alien vessel hangar. As his nervous eyes scanned the dimly lit cargo hangar, the Thrynn clutched several pages torn from a book in one hand and a long knife in the other. It was late. A few drunken sailors ambled around the docking facility. Ssrak stole a look at his find, straining to see in the low light. The words were translated from Elowan.

…the claim is ancient, that some “larger truth” somehow transcends a host of betrayals unleashed against small truths and simple veracity. As the small truths fall away, discarded, whatever passes for “larger truth” is little more than a hollow monstrosity…

Ssrak jerked his head at the faint sound of clicking boots. Frequent patrols kept alien traders quarantined and kept unauthorized Thrynn out. Stuffing his papers in a worn leather pouch, he jumped up, grabbed a pipe, and pulled himself to a utility catwalk where the vent panel was still open. He crawled inside, pulled the panel on behind him, and was gone.

Earth Sector

The Dead Zone
Aboard ISS Belfast Windfall

Inertial dampeners are an interesting creation of engineering, and they certainly have limitless uses beyond simply shielding travelers from the crushing effects of superphotonic speed. Mulligans, for example. Biggs Hilsfar played a lot of golf, and maybe he played too much, depending on who told the story. And what better time to practice working the green than some in-transit downtime? “Did you see that, Grix?” Grix, doing a holo puzzle in a hammock off to the side, nodded vaguely. “I’m telling you,” continued Biggs, “the dampeners are pulling my shots to starboard—I’m taking that one over again.” Though most cargo pods had some kind of metallic floor to withstand wear and tear, number five on Belfast Windfall just happened to boast fine Tandelou Astroturf.

Biggs got the next one in the hole. He grinned. “Hmmmm, just so, just so,” said Biggs Hilsfar.

Mack was running his twelfth lap around the catwalk above the converter wells in the starboard engine nacelle. The metal walk was suspended from the topside bulkhead and it connected to a platform toward the nacelle’s bow end. Ux had welded a pull up bar on side of the platform and sit up bar on the other side.

“It’s hotter than Dutch love in this joint,” huffed the lieutenant as he ran by Doc Biss. The doctor, who also took care of the life support systems, found the climate quite agreeable. The Thrynn had unfolded her yellow lawn chair right above one of the cycler vents and every so often a blast of steam shot up and moistened her reptilian skin. “How many laps is this, Doc?” Mack asked on his next pass. Genuine, sneaky or vicious, Thrynn grins are hard to read. This one was sneaky.

“That’sss eleven.”

Arella had bridge duty that afternoon and she was sitting at the steel desk that Biggs had pulled off Harrison’s Base some years back. She had herself a bowl of nacho salad and a bottle of soda she had scared up in the galley before coming on deck. Normally, the screen at the front of the bridge showed the passing cosmos or some situational display, but it was currently being used to show a movie that Arella had been meaning to see. “Wellspring Afaara” was loosely based—allowing for romance and drama—on the expeditions to uncover the underground Noah fortress on Arth. An alert beeped on the auxiliary console and Arella hopped over to log the notification as the opening credits rolled across the screen. ISS Belfast Windfall had just passed meridian 170 on an outward trajectory. Back to civilization.

----------
Next: “ Reflection”

“Home of the Heroes and Villains”
the Jova Lounge
www.geocities.com/lancecoolest/index.html

Hilsfar & Company: May or May Not be Your Destiny
[email protected]