Hiro was thinking furiously as he was transferred over to the other ship. Just what was going on, here? He'd only asked Understel to help him save Zarfleen's life. Why was he being taken to the ISS Victory? For that matter, why was the Victory here, in the Alpha Quadrant, when instead it should be in cold storage prepped for a slow, fuel-efficient flight out to the future site of the Delta Quadrant Starport?

  Of all the people to greet him, Hiro had not expected the Phexitutex-lookalike he recalled from that lobby on Arth. Nor was he expecting said Velox from Understel to give him a formal Interstel salute.

  "Greetings, Captain Tanaka," the Velox said. "Welcome aboard."

  Unconsciously adjusting himself to the artificial gravity on board -- Arth-standard, which was unusual on a ship managed by a Velox -- Hiro returned the salute before shaking his head. "Thanks. Now... what am I doing here, and how in the hell is this ship here? I though the Victory was supposed--"

  "Let me take you to your cabin," the Velox said, handing him a data drive. "You'll find a station there to play that on. Then meet me on the bridge, and I'll answer any additional questions you have."

  Hiro was still unable to ask any questions, but at least it sounded like some of them might be in a minute. He followed the faux-Phexitutex to a luxurious cabin he thought would normally belong to the ship's captain, and went inside as directed. Once the door closed behind him, he was left alone.

  While the long flight out to the Victory had him yearning to use the massive bed that the cabin offered, or to indulge in a meal from the cabin's kitchenette, he dutifully made his way over to the computer workstation to figure out what all of this was about.

  With the data drive plugged in, the screen flickered to life. The same robe-concealed figure he'd met in Understel's headquarters sat there opposite him, but he wasn't alone -- Professor Kerwin Dahglesh was sitting right there with him.

  "Hello, Hiro," Dahglesh said. "By now, I bet you're going crazy. After all, your plan to save Mr. Zarfleen was simply to make sure he got a copy of that Cluebook you found, and to hope he could use it to figure out how to keep himself alive. Not a bad plan, but I think we can do better. We'll move that one off to plan B. Instead, my friends here in Understel have come up with a Plan A."

  The heavily cloaked man nodded. "Indeed we have, but do not worry -- your original plan will also be followed. We have set up a method for any aspiring Interstel captain to purchase a copy of your 'Cluebook' through Binary Systems, Inc., your Mr. Zarfleen included, but that -- as Agent Turret explained -- is plan B. As it is your friend you wish to save, however, and you've taken it this far, I believe you are the best one to send out for plan A.

  "You are to take command of the ISS Victory. Yes, this is the same Victory that Captain Phloon de Lux believes he will be given. When he emerges from his cryo-sleep in the Delta Quadrant, I'm afraid he'll find that his ship has been 'reassigned,' and he'll have to make do with the ISS Butterfish. Given the concerns raised by the Cluebook, I believe it is more important that you get the fully upgraded ship. We're also giving you fifty thousand Monetary Units to further upgrade her, rather than the twelve thousand most explorer-class ship captains are being granted.

  "We've also made a few other modifications to the Victory for you, though you'll have to use that extra cash we've given you to outfit her. You'll be able to install military-grade weapons like buzz bombs, twin beams, fusion blasters, and the like, instead of just the basic missiles and lasers other explorers are restricted to. We've also modified your ship and terrain vehicle for atmospheric flight, allowing you to move about planets easier without having to first return to orbit. Your terrain vehicle can also be upgraded as well -- mineral scanners, radars, pontoons, ice runners, expanded cargo space, etc., while most explorers just have basic terrain vehicles.

  "All that, and you also have your own copy of the Cluebook, of course."

  Dahglesh took over the conversation again. "So, congratulations, Captain Tanaka. You're now in command of the most advanced ship in the fleet. You must be asking yourself just what it is we're asking you to accomplish with her. Well, it's simple -- we want you to follow the events listed in that little Cluebook you found and see if you can't beat Max to the punch, completing his assignment before he kills himself doing the same."

  "Of course, if a new Intrepid class ship started doing all this stuff, Interstel will ask questions," the cloaked Understel leader added. "Which is why we had to wait until just before the ISS Intrepid and her sister ships, all undertaking the same mission, were launched to bring you back in. As all captains in Interstel's exploration division are allowed to re-name, re-crew, and refit their ships as they choose -- as long as they use their own cash for it -- no-one will question your ship docking in Starport once they start launching. I do recommend you change the name to something other than the ISS Victory once you dock, just to throw off suspicion, but I doubt Interstel would even notice if you don't.

  "They will pay attention if you use the Albatross's codewheel, however. So, we hacked Interstel's security mainframe and replaced Victory's codewheel identifier with our own 'security' device. You no longer need a codewheel, so we'll be sending your old one back to the Albatross, where your androids will be holding it in trust for you."

  "Now, you might be wondering just why an underground 'criminal' organization is helping you so much," Dahglesh said. "Well... according to that Cluebook of yours, there's a group of robots out there called the 'Mechan' who still remember an organization called the 'Institute.' Let's just say this Institute recognized the need for a... call it a safeguard, of sorts, and that we're a part of that. And while we rarely recruit outside of ‘family,’ as it is, I think we're looking to induct another member soon... if you manage to complete this mission successfully, save Max Zarfleen, and just maybe save the universe in the process..."

  There had been more details after that. Such as how the Albatross would be sitting on the planet they'd been orbiting, waiting for his return. His androids would set up a campsite that could be used to explain how he could survive an extended deployment without re-supply. There was just enough fuel left on board for the Albatross to flee if anyone came looking for her -- she would be his alibi, when all this was over, so it was important she remained undiscovered.

  As captain of the Victory (or whatever he chose to re-name her), he would work under an assumed name with a crew drawn from Understel (the same Human, Velox, Elowan, and Thrynn he remembered talking with each other from Understel's lobby had been gathered for him, but he could replace them if he wanted). But once his adventure was over, he would be returning to the planet orbiting the star at co-ordinates thirty-three by six, boarding the Albatross, and issuing a distress call letting Interstel know she had 'run out of fuel' and he needed a tow, explaining just where he had been all those months away from Arth.

  But that would be some time, still. He had a friend -- and a universe -- to save.

  Rover Rescue

  by Michael J. Allen

  A low power alarm flashed in the corner of my heads-up display, an irritating buzz accompanying every blink.

  “Come on, baby. You can do it.”

  A clipped mechanical voice repeated himself a third time. “I informed you of the risk.”

  We crested a ridge, the rover lurching forward as plateau turned into descent. “We’re going to make it, U-44.” I pointed ahead. “We’re almost there, see?”

  “Shiva remains too distant for our current reserves,” U442330 said.

  I checked the angry red text superimposed over the empty battery meter.

  Shiva came into sight. The ache in my stomach eased. She rested on the valley’s far side, just uphill from the valley floor ahead. We were going to make it.

  Good thing, too. I’m starving.

  I eased off the power, letting inertia and planetary gravity do the work. The rover picked up speed. Dips and divots jounced us back and forth. Halfway down the hill, we bounced.

  The rover came down hard, hitting a rock outcropping. An impact that felt like a punch in the gut threw us backward. I re-engaged the power to get us out of the hole.

  The engine screamed like a frightened doe.

  The wheels spun free.

  My stomach clenched.

  An anguished howl filled me at Luck’s betrayal

  Shiva waited only a hundred meters away.

  We weren’t going to make it.

  Pain shot through my head, crackling filled my ears, and the smell of burning electronics and human hair flooded my nostrils. The rover’s computerized voice filled the cabin. “Power failure. Emergency crew recovery activated.”

  My limbs locked. Crew compartment access doors opened. Unable to judge the distance back to our ship or our physical condition, the emergency protocol usurped our bodies. My suit jerked me around like a meat puppet. The system disembarked me without taking personal flexibility into account, wrenching one hip. Searing heat pummeled us as the suits mechanically marched all three of us toward Shiva.

  How did it all go wrong?

  We caught air cresting a hill too fast in the .04 gravity. “Hedrin, yeah!”

  Even in the light gravity, the mostly full terrain vehicle came down hard enough that I bit my tongue. Half the rover’s wheels caught early, jerking all of us and spinning our ride to one side.

  I lunged for the controls before my brain caught up.

  After several mining runs, remote rover control grew more natural. Cameras tracked with my eyes. The expanded view projected against my spacesuit’s visor trumped the narrow cockpit window and added seamless scanner control via the uplink. A section of butte face illuminated in the distance. The system highlighted a mineral deposit otherwise invisible to the naked eye.

  My pulse increased, an excitement akin to hunger making me salivate.

  Scanning data scrolled down a side display window in my HUD. The promethium deposit read as thirty-one cubic meters—almost a whole ship’s cargo pod. I checked our rover’s cargo readout. We could take it all on if we dumped the zinc in the TV’s inventory. Above the cargo manifest, our remaining juice dipped below twenty percent.

  My stomach grumbled.

  I checked the distance, pulling up a map to compare the Shiva’s position.

  “We do not have sufficient power for a detour.”

  A video image of our Velox science officer, Vhirl, popped up in my HUD, mandibles undulating beneath brick-colored carapace. “U-44 is right, CT. We can come back for it.”

  “Maybe another rover couldn’t, but I’ve got this F1-D0 tuned to absolute perfection.”

  “A statistical analysis of power efficiency during our last several trips fails to support your claims. Any attempt to retrieve the targeted mineral deposit risks complete exhaustion of the terrain vehicle's batteries.”

  Beneath me, the rover finished bouncing from its short flight, almost like a pit fighter dancing on the balls of his feet, raring to start the fight. The TV wasn’t the only eager one.

  “You heard Captain Eyal,” Vhirl added. “You’re to stop pushing the TV’s batteries too much.”

  I weighed their warnings against the sweet prize waiting a hundred meters out of our way.

  The hunger won.

  To be honest, I was glad our low power meant breaking out the portable drills. I wasn’t one for sitting around, and a grueling day of letting the rover do all work had chafed more than just my backside. I hadn’t been idle on the long flight through Arth’s solar system. I’d spent the time building and testing the remote control array connecting me to the rover.

  Not that practicing stuck in the vehicle bay had been as helpful as doing ore runs.

  Mining and loading the ore by hand felt cleansing, even if the work resulted in filtered pungence within my suit’s air supply. Two hours later, we’d loaded up a small fortune and were headed home.

  A full load of promethium sold for almost fifteen thousand MU. Even though the day’s trips had brought back mostly chromium with a fair bit of zinc, our labors had to have filled Shiva’s cargo pods with nearly one hundred and thirty thousand MU worth of ore and minerals.

  That means my first ever share exceeds ten thousand MU!

  Ten thousand MU.

  The staggering amount almost exceeded imagination. With such resources, I could get formal training a far-sight more thorough than tinkering or taking community training courses. I could be a real engineer. I’d be able to pursue proper jobs on top-of-the-line ships or even anywhere on Arth. After years stuck in community living and working three jobs to buy a shuttle trip to the spaceport, my days of scraping by were over.

  I knew this gamble would be worthwhile.

  One drawback of the remote-control system—I couldn’t daydream on the drive back. That still didn’t stop me from considering which recipe I wanted from the food printer.

  Stroganoff. Definitely stroganoff.

  I could practically taste the rich beef-flavored cream sauce, feel the give of the noodles between my teeth. Offset with fried green beans and a Merlot, the meal would be the perfect reward for our extra-rich hall.

  Even if it is all a flavor-infused lie.

  I’d been happy to sign onto the Shiva for a half share, berthing and board. Hedrin, I’d have agreed for a quarter share just for the chance at food in flavors other than grey or brown. The spaceport had amazing food too, but at stroke-inducing prices.

  And that was still the printed stuff, not the actual food.

  It struck me then. With ten thousand MU, I could buy real stroganoff with actual Arthian beef. I wouldn’t, not from my first windfall, but real stroganoff was really, actually, truly in my future.

  My stomach grumbled again, and a sigh escaped me.

  A change in my display drew my attention to the power meter. The reserve power indicator cramped my already aching gut. I checked the distance back to Shiva.

  It’s fine.

  I patted the cockpit bulkhead.

  You can do it, baby. We’re going to be fine.

  “What were you thinking!?” Captain Eyal glowered at me from beneath shaggy, thundercloud eyebrows. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

  We stood in a line just inside Shiva’s airlock. Our Elowan sawbones bent over Vhirl, repairing the cracked carapace along one leg. “Boosting your bottom line, Cap, not to mention our cuts.”

  “Stars save me from cut rate, bargain basement wannabes.” He threw up his hands. “Ignoring the fact that we could’ve gone back for that deposit, you cost us way more than just a full rover of cargo.”

  I blinked at him. “What are you talking about? The rover’s right there. I’ll just grab some power cells and—”

  “You can’t go back for it. Once they run completely out of power, they’re ruined!”

  “What? No, that doesn’t make any sense. Abandoning a vehicle just because it runs out of power? That’s nuts.”

  “Nuts or not, on top of a ten thousand MU fine, the IPF will make me defend myself against an Ethical Accommodations Practice charge for abandoning that rover.”

  Why would the Interstel Police Force do that? A cruel accommodation charge? Over a rover?

  Eyal shook his head. “Just get out of my sight. Go prep the engines for launch. We’re leaving.”

  “What? I still say I can fix the rover, but even if I can’t we can’t just leave fifty cubic meters of promethium.”

  “It’s gone. Just get us ready.”

  A thought reconnected my device to Shiva’s engineering console. I didn’t know the reasons for Eyal’s unwarranted accusations, but I tried to suppress my resentment. “Engines prepared for launch as instructed, Captain.”

  Confusion bent the storm clouds. “You aren’t anywhere near the bridge.”

  U442330’s clipped response got there first. “It seems reasonable to assume that CT employed the same remote-control device on the engineering console as he employed to drive the rover.”

  “What remote device?” Eyal looked between me and the android. “What were you doing changing the ship’s equipment?”

  “I’m Shiva’s engineer. I’m supposed to make the ship run better, right? Besides, what the hedrin do you expect me to do all those hours U-44 is flying us around the solar system?”

  “You overwrote Shiva’s command matrix without even asking permission?”

  “Get over yourself. I didn’t do anything to your ship. My device uses a prosthetics control chip tied into a wireless transceiver. The only thing I did to the engineering station is plug a receiver into the control ports.”

  Eyal narrowed his eyes. I could almost see him counting my limbs. “Where did a mudrat like you get a prosthetics control chip?”

  “Planetside.”

  He wanted more, but how I gained the chip wasn’t his business.

  “Whatever. I want your device out of Shiva’s systems. Now!”

  “Fine.” I charged up the central corridor onto the bridge. Two strides later, I unplugged the receiver and turned back around. “Happy?”

  Eyal glared from the doorway. “Get off my bridge. You’re confined to quarters.”

  I returned to the cabin I shared with U-44’s charging station. Eyal’s tirade still had my back up and being sent to my room didn’t help ease my temper. Between his cited fine and a rover load of promethium, we’d lost twenty-five thousand MU—enough to cover the entire ship in Class-5 armor.

  Eyal’s anger wasn’t unreasonable, but he wasn’t the only one with a bone to pick. He’d just abandoned that rover and its cargo. After the ship’s cut, we’d each lost almost two-thousand MU that I, at least, needed for some training that hadn’t originated at a community learning annex.

  A snarl ripped from my lips, changing to a yelp as my fist hit the bulkhead.

  Damn it, why in the void did he make us leave all that behind?

  Neither my throbbing fist nor empty credit account were my only pain, though they definitely kept my attention. I tried for the umpteenth time to remove the control halo plugged into the prosthetic control chip. Out of necessity, the old implant had ports for control wire connections between the brain and their slaved prosthetic limb. The electronic horseshoe hooked over my ears to keep it in place, and a hinge lock kept the folding apparatus rigid when in use. The hooks and the hinge lock worked, but the contacts jacked into the implant refused to release. I stood in front of a mirror for hours with every proper or impromptu tool in my cabin. None of them did anything beyond cause more pain. Desperate, I begged U442330 for help.