The Homestead: The Great Space Mutiny

By Sam Mangat

In a fit of drunken bravado, Co-Navigator Anthony Troy tries a stunt to impress his date of the evening. While the rest of the ship parties away the Diamond Jubilee of the New Era, the duo soon find themselves in a terrible jam. Both get lost in space. It is then that he also discovers that the lady in question is none other than the only daughter of Marshall Bingenbatten, who happens to be the most powerful man in the Asteroid belt space stations, and tipped to be the Grand Marshall of the Space Fleet of Earth.

Though they are rescued by a near miracle, Anthony soon finds himself in a bigger mess than before, all because of the lady. With the result the entire hierarchy of the Space Fleet comes down on him like the proverbial ton of bricks.

He is left with no option but to flee Earth and head for Mars, where the mutants are being dumped by the pure beings of Earth. There he is surprised to find these unfortunate victims of the nuclear holocaust, have recovered from the humiliations heaped on them, and are building a fleet to contest the Solar System.

They have also renamed the planet. Since it is now their new home, they call it the Homestead. They are aware (even though the Earthlings are not) that due to the large amount of energy released by the nuclear explosions, the Earth has begun to slow down. Which means, the pure beings will also sooner or later have to migrate to the Homestead. This they would have to do either on the terms of the mutants, or it would be war.

He joins them eagerly, as he has always been against the enforced exodus of the mutants, and places his experience at their disposal. Both sides then head for the climatic (and now famous) Battle of the Shepherd Moons, one of the most decisive battles in the history of the Earth

(Note: The Homestead, the authors maiden venture, reached the Quarter Finals in the Writers Digest Annual Writing Contest, Beverley Hills, CA.)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 18, 2000
• ISBN: 9781462800278

Sam Mangat

Sam Mangat is currently an advertising executive based in the Bay Area in the San Francisco hinterland. A Sikh from the north Indian province of the Punjab, he received his education in India. He has varied interests. Besides writing, he is an artist dedicated to the revival of realistic art.

Book preview

CHAPTER I

The Athena Majora leaves for her voyage to Uranus

Anchors aweigh, the sonorous voice of the mate resounded in all the nooks and crannies of the huge space galleon, telling all and sundry to be safely belted (if that is the right word, for an English translation of a Sanskrit text is ever so difficult).

The electro-magnetic motors died down with a reluctant moan, and a quiver went through the ship as the magnetic anchors detached themselves from their moorings. The ship began her slow ascent into the atmosphere.

No contact, the electro-magnetic engineer confirmed. We’re on our way.

Increase anti-gravity drive, the Captain murmured.

Increase anti-gravity drive, the mate echoed.

The anti-gravity engines began humming at a slightly higher pitch, as the ship finally bid the terra firma adieu. From now on, till at least six months hence, there would be no contact with any planetary body. After that, of course, the Athena Major, (for that was her name), would touch down on the Uranus moon, Umbriel, and begin her mining and smelting operations.

Anthony Troy eyed the figures darting across his console with an air of bored detachment. The current formalities did not concern him. His task as the co-navigator would come much later. It was the engineers who were the busy ones now. There was no excitement in his breast, for he had traveled in space long enough to know of it’s insipidity, unlike some younger astronauts and some other first time passengers, who he knew had a fire hammering in their chests at this very moment. He had been a young Hun too, but it seemed ages ago. Seven years ago, in fact. Only he had been thoroughly disappointed with space. The damned thing never changed. It just seemed to go on and on, day after day. Hell, even that could not be said for it for there were simply no days. It was just one long starry night. His gaze shifted from the console and settled on the large porthole in front of him. With an effort he suppressed a parting pang for the mother planet, Earth. The time for feeling sad was before one boards the liner. Once on he was just an astronaut doing a job, and being paid very well for it. Maybe later, after his shift was over he would allow himself a maudlin mood aided with a few shots of scotch. But not now.

The land below was beginning to fall away slowly. Bright sunshine bathed the terrain below. It was the height of summer, but the land below was cool. The land elevation of eleven thousand feet ensured that. The best season on the Tibetan Plateau Region. But the winters, ah, now that was another matter at this place. Mercifully he would be away from it all for the duration.

Altitude reading five hundred feet, the Chief Navigator called out.

All clear, the weatherman said, almost in response.

A mild guffaw went around the bridge command room. Any idiot could look out of the porthole and tell there were clouds gathering in the bright Tibetan sky. But not the weatherman. He had his eyes glued to his computer, which in all its wisdom was telling him it was all clear outside. And since the wisdom of the computers is, in fact, more than that of humans, the computer was, in fact, right. Clouds there might be, but as far as the Athena Majora was concerned it was a clear day for take-off. Invariably it was the weatherman who had to take the brunt of the jokes, which he was doing at the moment his eyes still glued to the screen, and his silhouetted ears reddening with each passing minute.

The Rendezvous station was sinking away fast. Anthony could see the other space galleons moored to their docking platforms, loading or unloading cargoes, for or from their distant voyages, completed or destined. They looked impressive indeed. Like so many tame whales. No, battleships rather. No, not even those. Ocean liners was more apt. Luxury liners. Huge luxury liners. Their tall masts jutting into the sky as if proudly pointing at the domain they had helped man conquer. Their colorful pendants majestically fluttering in the breeze, each symbolizing a voyage.

It was a galleon of an older make that caught Anthony’s eye. His eyes softened. It was an Exodus Liner, loading her own miserable cargo, destined for her own unfortunate voyage. He could clearly see the rows and rows of human beings, waiting patiently to board the galleon, carefully guarded and guided by armed Space Fleet soldiers. This ship held aloft no pendants, her masts were shorter and her outlook was shabby. She seemed almost apologetic at the unenviable task she was assigned for.

The shame of the Space Fleet, Anthony murmured to himself. A blight on our civilization.

He forced himself to tear his eyes away from the sorry spectacle and gaze at the more beautiful panorama now unfolding, as the ship climbed further into the atmosphere. The hills to the immediate left had fallen below, and the view became truly breathtaking and a sight to behold. The magnificent, snow capped, awesome and royal Mount Sumeru was rising behind the puny hills that had dared to hide it. And as the ship rose higher, and the hills fell further, Earthania, the capital city of the New Order, came into view, nestling against the mountain like an inamorata of a haughty lover. She was a beautiful city. In fact, in the eyes of many, there never had been a city so beautiful since the dawn of creation. Her towering buildings, though looking like little blocks in front of the titanic mountain, glittered in the noonday sun like stars in daytime, for they were covered with gold leaf, now so abundantly available from the mines in outer space. The gold was not there entirely for decoration, though it certainly looked grand. It was there for plain and simple utility, as it saved costly cleaning and maintenance. Gold, as a metal, maintains its luster even when exposed to all vagaries of weather. Besides the most expensive item, in front of which gold paled, was human labor. Most of the good men were needed in space, after all there was not one, but many worlds to colonize. Most of the bad men were lazing around at Earth, stoned out of their tits on hellack, and stagnating on welfare. The useful population was limited. From that half were contaminated with radioactivity, and in the New Order, fit only to be dumped onto the planet Mars via the Exodus Liners. So the buildings were coated with gold. Women wore it too, sure, but mankind lacked the yearning for it that once had so afflicted and corrupted humanity. Now the women, with their ever mercurial tastes still the most constant thing about them, sought only precious stones of the most dazzling brilliance, matured only by conditions existing on the various planets and moons. Aeons of tremendous heat and millions of tons of pressure had formed these stones. And rubies. Chunks of rubies, redder and brighter than any seen on Earth. Those that emitted an inner glow, like red-hot embers of a dying fire. Diamonds of each color of the spectrum. And so many more. So gold was relegated to adorning the buildings of Earthania, the most dazzling architectural achievement of man since he began building.

Altitude reading one thousand feet, the Chief Navigator spoke again.

All clear, the weatherman said into his microphone. He was saved the sniggers this time as all the others were busy staring at the mountain and the city at her feet, and now the twin lakes, which in turn seemed to be paying her obeisance.

The Lakes Mansarover, greater and lesser. One blue, the other green. One, or so the tradition went, created by the nectar of the gods, the other by the poison of the demons. Nothing, Anthony thought, could symbolically describe the present age better than this spectacle. Mount Sumeru, also called Mount Kailas, was the center of the cosmic universe according to Buddhist mythology. Now it marked the spot, which ruled the entire solar system. Earthania, the Golden City, symbolized man’s powers to recover from disasters, which he unfailingly heaped on himself with amazing regularity, each time recovering and striving to bring back the golden age his legends told him about. The lakes on either side of the city symbolized what man actually was—a creature midway between gods and demons.

Down, down, all this seemed to be sinking as the ship accelerated her progress towards the beckoning blue sky. The anti-gravity engines were on full throttle; using and reversing the pull of Earth’s gravity, till the Earth was pushing the ship away like an indulgent mother teaching her baby to walk.

Elevation five thousand feet, the Chief Navigator said.

All clear, the weatherman dutifully responded.

The space station was now far below, it’s galleons now looking like little toys. The Exodus liner was perched in one forgotten corner like a punished child. In the central tarmac, the giant six arrow logo of the Space Fleet could still be deciphered, painted in white, reminding all landing and departing astronauts what they were—the rulers of the six directions of space—front, rear, left, right, above and below.

Elevation ten thousand feet, the voice of the Chief Navigator again resounded.

All clear, the weatherman said, this time not daring to peep up from behind his console, for through the corner of his eye he had seen the ship had entered a cloudbank.

The expected sniggers followed. Anthony muffled his laughter, and glanced at the weatherman, for the outside view was now blotted by the cloud they had entered. One helluva job, he thought to himself. The weatherman was only needed during the ascent and descent of the space liners. The mining stations all lay on the planetary moons, which had no atmospheres. The planets, which did, were ignored by the Space Fleet, as their colossal gravitational fields did not make it practical to mine there. The only planet that the Space Fleet touched was Mars, where only the Exodus liners journeyed to transfer the contaminated human beings to their new home. So, on the regular flights the weatherman would do his few hours of duty on the ascent, and then, for the next few months he would relax at his desk job, sharpening his pencils and otherwise try to look busy. While landing back at base he would put in a few hours, disembark, and then go thumping his chest to anyone who would care to listen, that he was a Space Fleet astronaut. So he would impress an admiring few, enter into brawls with a jealous few, and seduce his women—the standard routine of an average astronaut on Earth leave. In the Space Fleet itself he would keep a low profile, for there everyone knew where the chips lay.

Altitude reading twenty thousand feet.

All clear.

This time, mercifully for the weatherman, it was indeed all clear. The cloud had been at early stages of formation, and the ship had by now come out of the top. The land below again sprang into view. Far away, the Himalayas were glistening in the mid-day sun. The assorted mini mountain ranges of the Tibetan plateau crises-crossed the masses of little green fields. Tiny townships far away could be seen, marking the center of that particular county. Earthania, with her lakes and mountain, was directly below, still grand despite her fast diminishing size.

Altitude reading thirty thousand feet, the Chief Navigator called. From now on all distances shall be in miles. Altitude reading six miles. Leaving the troposphere and entering the stratosphere. Request the temperature reading.

Minus 50 degrees Celsius, the weatherman said, almost relieved to be relieved of his repetitive and comical task he no doubt abhorred. Temperature readings were at least going to be more dramatic than that awful weather. Atmospheric density at 1000 millibars, he offered gladly, as a means to show that his job entailed more than just air. It even involved lack of it.

To all practical purposes, Anthony thought, they had already entered space. Inner space though. Outer space was still technically many miles away. However, since the atmosphere outside was only one tenth as dense as that at sea level, it was already of no use to the human body.

Up the ship was rising, higher and higher, faster and faster. Yet the plateau below stretched on as far as an eye could see. It was truly said that to judge the size of the Earth one had to view it from space.

Altitude reading fifteen miles.

Temperature constant at minus 50 degrees Celsius, the weatherman said. Atmospheric density 50 millibars.

Now the galleon was going full clip. It was rising as fast as an object falls. The land was descending lower and lower. To Anthony, the mountain of Sumeru now appeared no more than a hillock, the lakes any more than water tanks. Earthania was almost invisible in the gathering haze. Still the plateau stretched out. Himalayas still marked the southern horizon, their white, snow-clad heights starting from the East and disappearing over the West. A little beyond the Himalayas could be seen the first glimpses of the great Indian plain, once a home of a flourishing nation, now a barren waste. The rivers still ran there, and the monsoon still made its annual foray. But these once life giving sources were now of no use to any one, for no one lived there anymore. It was like so many other once flourishing plains, with their rivers, valleys, towns, and cultures that once enriched the Earth, but due to man’s folly, lost for all time. But all that was history now. It all belonged to the past aeons, the world of the dead best forgotten. And it was this amazing new principle called the anti-gravity theorem, which had made man forget the tragic past. If it were not for this invention man would still be confined to his puny planet, ruing the ruin he had brought about.

The anti-gravity theorem, Anthony was thinking. Not for man would have been the awesome sights of the moon mountains, or the rings of Jupiter, Saturn or Uranus. If Earth was a constant reminder of his past blunders, then it was these sights which goaded him on to the optimism of the future. Anthony’s mind drifted back to an earlier invention, rockets, which had for the first time brought man to the tragic juncture of his own annihilation. Germany, yes, that was the name of the land where these had been invented. A great nation, a great culture which had led man in, and then out of, the barbaric ages, and into modern times. It was from here that the tribes had plunged forth and conquered the decaying Roman Empire. It was from here that they had begun an expansion, which would end only when the farthest continents had been discovered, conquered and colonized. Then as great new nations arose out of the German seed, colossal conflicts ensued for a number of reasons. Terrible new weapons were invented. Rockets were the ones, which were to prove to have the greatest implications for mankind. What was most ironic was that in the end it proved to be a wild goose chase, first as an impractical way to bring an enemy nation to her knees, then as an impractical way to conquer space. The only thing rockets succeeded in doing was wiping out the old order, paving way for the new. The other invention was, of course, the atomic bomb. It was all that was needed. Combined with the rocket it virtually ensured the destruction of the civilization, which spawned it. Both these inventions passed on to two powers of the day. Both proceeded to conquer space on one hand, and build arsenals to pulverize each other on the other. The first partly succeeded, the second failed. Fifty years and trillions of dollars later, all they had to show for their efforts was a few score men in space, and the ability to wipe out life from planet Earth ten times over. Things went along fine with the possession of these inventions, their cold war soon warmed to a friendship, till the other emerging nations also got into the act, equating the possession of these inventions with greatness. Soon every mad mullah, every tin-pot dictator, every megalomaniac was sparing no effort to build a few rockets tipped with nuclear bombs for his country. Some succeeded, others could not. The latter resorted to the next best thing—tipping their rockets with chemical and biological weapons instead. It was then things went out of hand. An incident in the year 2065 AD sparked a war, over which everyone rapidly lost control, till the atomic, biological, and chemical weapons mounted on the noses of rockets, soon found themselves in the air. In hindsight, the restrained atomic bombs did not do much relative damage, though they certainly seemed very destructive at that time. It was the slow and steady reaction of the biological and chemical weapons, which soon hit mankind. Diseases became rampant and defied cure. Clouds of chemical gases began spreading like mists, depopulating entire areas. Whole cities were wiped out with a small change in wind direction. Cures were gradually found for the biological viruses used. But nothing could be done about the deadly gases, which settled down at the lower reaches of the atmosphere. Below the six hundred feet contour, to be precise. The surviving populations had no recourse but to head up-hill, as entire plains were laid waste, which they lay till the present day. Remnants of the old cultures moved into the mountains and plateaus. Tibet being the largest, became the land where most of mankind could be accommodated. Still, chaos naturally followed this sudden and catastrophic change in man’s natural habitat. Man has never been much of a high altitude animal. For thirty odd years mankind suffered and died. Till what was left of the old scientific process developed the anti-gravity theorem, virtually launching mankind into space, en masse. The Earth was too small a place for him now. His hope lay in space. He moved in with a vengeance. Wealth soon began pouring into Earth, and his civilization recovered and then began flourishing once more. Now, instead of continents, he had moons and planets. Still, nothing could match the open air of the home planet, her blue skies, and verdant nature. Earth was still his home. And so progress continued, till now in the year 2142 of the old era, or 60 of the new one, man had surpassed all previous levels of civilization. Gradually as the older generation died, the latter ones lost all feelings for the cultures of their fathers. What they had not seen they did not miss, and they built anew a civilization, which their ancestors would have envied.

Altitude reading thirty miles, and we are leaving the stratosphere and entering the mesosphere, the voice of the Chief Navigator jolted Anthony’s thought train. "D region seven miles above. Meteor zone begins. Radar crew on high alert.

Check, the radar officer confirmed.

Temperature warms to minus 10 degrees Celsius; the weatherman muscled in. Atmosphere pressure .1 millibar.

Well, Anthony thought, here we are in outer space at last. There was, of course, an atmosphere of sorts outside, but it was near vacuum. It would struggle along for another hundred miles, till they finally hit vacuum finer than any that could be created on Earth. While he had been deep in thought they had crossed the ozone layer, regarded by the astronauts as the milestone dividing the atmosphere from space.

The land below appeared to be sinking at a far slower rate than earlier due to the great distance involved. Mount Sumeru seemed like an anthill, the lakes like twin fishponds. Earthania could not be seen anymore. The land was a vast splash of green streaks, interspersed with brown spines, which were actually mountain chains. The horizons still stretched out in all directions. They were thirty miles up, no doubt, but compared to the distances at Earth it was nothing. An average Earthanian commuted that distance to office everyday. And here, the Athena Majora was in outer space already. So thin was the atmosphere of the Earth. One astronaut of the past century had compared it in thickness to the skin of an apple to an apple’s size. Now that was thin, Anthony thought, and yet man could not keep his grubby paws to himself. He just had to make a mess of it.

Entering meteor zone, the Chief Navigator alerted everyone.

It really was no use worrying about it, thought Anthony. If a meteor hit, well, it hit. There was nothing anyone could do about it. The meteors weren’t so big really, just a couple of yards across. The damage to ships, too, was never caused by a direct hit—the force shields around the ship ensured that. It was when the ships careened out of control and crashed back to Earth, that the damage was done. Those damned meteors did travel at phenomenal speeds. The chances of getting hit were negligible, definitely so, and were downplayed even more by the Fleet. But an accident once every seven years or so would cause a sudden scare, and served to remind all space travelers of the dangers of taking such voyages. Human collective memory, however, is notoriously short, and so such accidents were always soon forgotten and life went on as usual.

The journey through the meteor zone passed off without a hitch. All aboard then braced themselves for the final grand drama before they shot into space. They were now entering the E region.

Altitude reading sixty miles, the familiar voice called again. Entering the thermosphere, E region.

Temperature begins warming. Seven hundred degrees Celsius, the weatherman spoke. The ship now was entering the upper, final remains of the atmosphere. It was near vacuum. Near. But still dense enough to absorb the rays of the sun, taking the temperatures above this region swirling to above 700 degrees Celsius. It made the weather man feel important, and he too braced himself to start calling out the rise in temperature as the ship climbed higher, for this region of tremendous heat would continue all the way up to three hundred miles.

The sky was by now as dark as the darkest night on Earth, interspersed with thousands of tiny stars, appearing so different than they did at Earth. On account of their constant countenance, they appeared so far removed from their twinkling visages at Earth, which had inspired so many poems and songs. In sharp contrast, the Earth below was bathed in sunlight. Night above and day below and the curvature of the horizon still nowhere in sight. The mountains below had merged with the plains and resembled nothing more than stains of dried moisture on a wall. Add a few white feathers for the clouds, and the picture would be complete.

We’re lucky, an astronaut said loudly.

The others turned to where he was pointing, and beheld what a first time traveler would be sufficiently awed enough by to remember the rest of his life. It was an aurora borealis, the gargantuan curtain like apparition that adorns space at these heights. It was a bright pink this time, and seemed to go on and on into the space above. At other times it would be blue, and at others, scarlet. The astronauts eyed it in silence, for it always seemed to them like a curtain being lifted on their voyage. If they appeared to pass through one, it was regarded as a sign of luck.

That they did soon enough, as effortlessly as an atom would go through a silken curtain.

It was much later, at least five thousand miles up, that Anthony’s turn on the job finally came.

Altitude reading five thousand miles, the Chief Navigator called. Navigation Wing B, take over.

The Chief Navigator of the B Wing adjusted his microphone and began his own stipulated routine.

Solar winds reading at a million miles an hour, henceforth measured by millomiles.

Check, said Anthony.

Check, confirmed another co-navigator sitting next to him.

Ready for the voyage, Captain, the Chief Navigator said politely.

The Captain, a man of Indian origin, Sreeram Singh by name, leaned forward carefully and gave the command without changing his pensive look.

Sails ahoy, he said softly.

Sails ahoy! the mate echoed.

Relevant commands were given to the relevant computers. The huge sails of the galleon were soon being unfurled from the towering masts, each one clearly visible from the bridge. The biggest sail of them all, the one in the center carried the symbol of the Space Fleet—six arrows pointing in each of the six directions. The sail at the top carried the name of the galleon—Athena. The lower one bore the name of the line—Majora. The pendants, now unfurling from the top of the masts bore the zodiac symbols of the planets and moons the ship had visited.

As soon as the sails became taut, they began to curve, and then pregnant with the solar winds, they propelled the ship towards her destiny and her destination.

Below, of the Tibetan plateau, nothing could be seen. All that was visible was the white expanse of the North Pole, for the ship was at the North Pole funnel through the Van Allen radiation belts.

Minutes later the Athena Majora was accelerating through space at an ever increasing speed which would stabilize once she hit three hundred thousand miles per hour, or three thumphs, in space jargon. She could travel faster, but at the crowded distances of the inner planets, it was considered wise to limit speed. It was only when space became relatively empty after the asteroid belt that greater speeds were allowed.

The mother planet Earth soon began to edge away visibly and finally.

The journey had begun.

CHAPTER II

The Diamond Jubilee celebrations of the New Order—A romance and a space mishap

Since it was a special occasion the hall of the Athena Majora soon began filling up.

Normally there would be only an assortment of astronauts or passengers taking their meals at this Earth Absolute Time. After this there would be a movie, a dance, or a merry game to break the ice for the many people who, just before the voyage, had been strangers, and after the voyage, to such varied entertainment, would become friends more than mere acquaintances. But this night was special. Every one present was out in his or her finest livery. Some regretted they were not at Earth on this day, others were happy to enjoy these celebrations in such an unusual environment. A brass band played a catchy tune or two at one corner, adding to the charm of the evening. Snatches of subdued conversation could be heard over the lilting notes of the musical instruments. The conversation was, of course, in clipped official Sanskrit, the lingua franca of the New Order. (It was, after all, the only Earth language so logical that computers could not only speak it, but understand it as well.) The tables had all been occupied by now, so many couples were standing around, but seeming none the worse for it. Besides, it certainly was not an evening to be seen sitting around.

Anthony and his friend, Jonathan, being among the first to venture into the hall earlier in the evening, had managed a table for themselves. There they sat in their swashbuckling Space Fleet uniforms, feeling stifled and stiff. Sitting at the bridge during their duty hours was bad enough. There was nothing an astronaut wanted more than a quiet drink at the bar in the casual kit. They resented this formal occasion as an intrusion of their leisure hours. However, the orders had to be followed, and if the fleet said all had to be present at the function, well theirs’ was not to reason why.

Seems all the tables are occupied, a voice behind them said, more as a means to attract their attention.

Anthony turned around to see the weatherman standing there wearing a self conscious smile. Anthony did not know him, but recognized him all the same as being with him at his shift earlier during the day. Noticing a chair lying vacant at their table he waved him to it. The weatherman seemed delighted at the offer and slid into it without hesitation. He had been quite used to being merely tolerated by the other officers, and was happy to see someone extending the welcome wagon. Well, almost.

James Baglin, he said, offering his hand. I think we were together at the morning shift.

That’s right, Anthony said. I’m Anthony Troy. He shook the other’s hand, and gesticulated towards his friend. This is a friend of mine, Jonathan.

Jonathan Brown, said Jonathan leaning forward and grasping the other man’s hand.

After the suddenness of the intrusion to their quiet introspection, the duo relapsed into their somber silence. I certainly hope I’m not sort of, occupying a seat you’ve kept for someone else, Baglin said, trying to break the ice.

No, no, not at all, said Jonathan. It’s just that it’s been a hard day at work. You know how it is at the beginning of the voyage, so much to be done.

Something like my job, Baglin grinned. I’m into atmosphere and all.

First voyage? Anthony asked.

Nah, second, was the reply. I see you guys have been around a bit, he said pointing at their medals.

Just a heavier weight to carry around at occasions like this, that’s all, Jonathan replied modestly.

That couldn’t be much of a problem for you, Baglin went on. Afro men are on the aggregate built tougher. Hell, there has not been a heavy weight-boxing champion for over nine generations except for an Afro. That includes a few generations of the old order as well.

Jonathan grinned. No, I’m not into that sport. I prefer hitting opponents who can’t hit back.

You have a medal for excellence in archery, Baglin said, his respect for the two astronauts going up by notches with each passing minute. They seemed the down to earth sort and good company to boot. Sufficiently awed he relapsed into silence again. Just sitting next to these two made him feel important, a far cry from the scant moments ago when he was roaming around like a lost cow.

Anthony was beginning to feel the first pleasant stirrings of scotch in his innards. He began toying with the idea of picking up a bottle and making for his room. The home planet was still not out of his system, and there was nothing better he would have liked than to go to his room, put on some music, get drunk and crash out. Before he could reach his decision, he noticed a stir at the entrance of the hall. It must be the captain entering, he thought. In which case his exit would have to wait.

It turned out to be the captain all right. Only, there was a surprise of sorts. On his arm was the most stunningly beautiful woman Anthony had ever seen. The outrageously colored dress she was wearing added to her overall aura. It was a loose version of a kimono, splattered with bold designs showing butterflies and flowers. A pair of expensive python skin boots covered the lower part of her shapely legs. Her hair, cascading in curls over her bare back, were dyed light blue, and perfectly matched her deep blue eyes. Her pink lips and cheeks added enough color to the beauty