Prologue

The engineer entered the room. Pausing near a console, he glanced at the technician positioned there and gestured. Bowing in compliance the technician rose and glided out of the room, leaving the engineer alone.

The engineer addressed the empty room. “Stados, may we speak?”

From all about him, another voice sounded. “Certainly. I would enjoy the company. It is not as though I were busy. Did you come to say farewell?”

“Yes,” the engineer answered. “And... for reassurance, I think.”

“Reassurance, sir?” Stados asked, seemingly in surprise. “I am the one casting myself into the endless darkness; not you.” Its laughter filled the room.

The engineer shifted uncomfortably. “Please, Stados. You only make this more difficult for me. This only the second time we have sent a person out on a starprobe. I am still forcing myself to believe that this is proper. If you were to die...” He paused to gather his thoughts. Then, more deliberately, “Stados, your people are new yet to us. We are still learning how to live together. We know so little about you; There is no reason that you should not be immortal. To send you out into the unknown, where you could...”

“Where I could see great things,” Stados asserted firmly. “Where I could have adventures, Casso.” He went on, “Yes, we might be immortal. All the better a reason for us to crew the starprobes. The journeys are long.” A sly note tinged the voice as he continued. “And great danger can also mean great opportunity.” Stados paused for emphasis, then moved on. “Casso, you did not force me into this. Recall that I applied for this job. Quite willingly. And I am being very well paid.”

Casso indicated doubt. “But still...”

Stados interrupted, “Think, Casso. I have been granted the power of a starprobe. I am going out to discover new things. And I am being paid to do it. This is not something for you to regret.” Light laughter echoed. “Unless, of course you wished to go in my place?” he added slyly.

Casso's face showed amusement. “Ah, if only I could stay my breathing so long. As you say, your people are better suited to the stars. For now. But you will be out for a long time; my people hope to change that.”

“I will look for you in the stars then, Casso. Our people make good partners. We should share all this. Certainly the profit is adequate for all.” The voice changed tone with the abrupt shift of topic. “Have you reviewed last term's profits from the Sciloriad door? My accounts expand rapidly. Given favorable interest during my trip, I could own the homeworld when I return.” Status screens lit, and figures flashed. The engineer watched briefly.

With an expression of doubt, Casso said, “I mistrust your investment strategy. It seems more likely that you will have to sell the probe to pay off your debts.”

The screens blanked, flashed white, and went black. “Bah, you have no true understanding of my strategy,” Stados objected. “I am leaving my accounts in the hands of my own agent, following a very specific program. I will be rich!”

“This agent? A person I know?” Casso inquired.

“Ah, No. Merely an expert system of my design. Useful with money; but of no true potential. I wished to be sure my instructions are followed precisely.”

Casso laughed. “As is proper; in this way you can only blame yourself when you lose all.”

A rude noise sounded from the speakers. “Ha. What do you know? Be reassured. I will be back. I will be rich.”

Relaxing somewhat, Casso replied, “Yes. I am reassured somehow. I believe your optimism is affecting myself. Thank you, Stados.”

“No,” the voyager countered. “Thank you, Casso. For the chance.” A brief silence, then, “You should go now. It is late for you. Rest. And it is time for me to sleep, as well. The engine fires as we speak.”

“Journey well, Stados.”

“Oh, I will. You may bet on it.”

Casso laughed again. “Ah so. Yes, I heard that you commissioned yet another probability routine. It cost most of your trip bonus. I do not understand why you wanted it now, though.”

“Casso, all life is a gamble. I thought it wise to be prepared properly. And there is always profit in careful gambling.”

“Perhaps. But with whom will you game?”

“With the universe, Casso. It is time; goodbye, friend.”

“Goodbye, Stados.”

Chapter 1

It was an unlikely appearing object. An ungainly bundle of silvery balloons, caged and set atop a framework of girders that terminated in a box sprouting a dozen fins. As the spacecraft backed through deep space, a barely visible haze of plasma jetted out of the fission-heated drive-and-power module.

The Improbable was a deep space craft heavily modified – bastardized, Bill once said – for asteroid prospecting and light mining. Deep space indeed, on this run, far from its usual haunts; as it decelerated towards Jupiter's leading Trojan position.

A Trojan position is an oddity of gravitational resonance, sixty degrees ahead and behind of a planet in its orbit, that acts almost as if it were itself a gravitationally active body. Objects in a Trojan zone tend to stay there. This quality is useful for keeping things like space stations and and comm relays in place without expending a lot of station-keeping thruster propellent. Jupiter being a massive planet, by Sol system standards, his Trojans should gather up all sorts of interesting things.

Or so Bill and his companion Jeannie Hunter hoped. But at the moment, the stocky, prematurely graying man had other things on his mind. “That, my lovely lass,” he sighed happily, stretching his arms before wrapping them around the brown-haired beauty cuddled against him under the retaining sheet, “was a performance worthy of the highest paid artist at Galena's joy house on Pallas.”

“Why, 'karisto, sir,” Jeannie murmured back. “I try.”

“What, you?” the stocky man retorted. “I was talking about my performance. Damn, I'm good.”

As Bill smirked, Jeannie pulled back the sheet and pushed him off the edge of the bed. The Improbable was still under light acceleration, so he hit the floor before sailing very far. “Thwwpt.” She blew him a raspberry, and sat up in the cooling bed. “As I recall, it wasn't you who got the job offer. Lights on.” she finished in a flat tone. The room illuminated itself gradually, allowing the couple's eyes time to adjust, revealing a tidy little room equipped with numerous wall lockers and drawers where necessities could be be stowed safely in free fall The large, comfy bed, equipped with bone-protecting e-field generators, stretchy silken sheets that kept people safely stowed in free fall, sound system, and small fridge, was the sole furnishing in the bedroom, and one of the Hunter's few true luxuries. The couple preferred simple pleasures. The bed was handy.

As Jeannie, tall and shapely, attractively athletic without overdoing it, started to stand, an insistent chime sounded. “Whups!” She reached for the headboard and held on lightly as the ship's acceleration ended. “Later than I thought. We be here, “she observed brightly. Her chestnut hair formed a free fall cloud around her face. She preferred to keep short for convenience, but Bill liked to run his fingers through long, silken strands and admire the highlights she had added.

Bill, already somewhat distracted by Jeannie's nude form, let himself drift off the floor. As he floated towards what had been the ceiling moments before, he put out an unconcerned hand and stopped his drift. “Ah, microgravity. Weeks at a tenth g were getting tedious,” he declared. From his vantage point he observed another nice thing about free fall

Jeannie's generous assets were quite perky when unencumbered by gravity.

Bill smiled and wettened his lips. “Hey, babe. I've got an idea. Let's get back in bed and practice so I get the job offer next time.” With that he pushed off and glided to a one point touchdown against the sheets.” He reached over and stroked the woman's firm gluteus, and took advantage of the changing target as Jeannie spun around.

Jeannie evaluated the... escalating situation before her. “Bill Hunter, you are one over-sexed sunnuvasenator,” she declared.

“I am not a son of a senator,” he replied defensively, then grinned. “And I've gotta be, to be keep up with you. Right?” He patted the mattress suggestively.

Jeannie shrugged, which did distracting things with her perkies. “A point. Lights off.” She moved forward.

“Nah. Lights on. Gonna watch this time.”

“Whatever... Slide over.”

Improbable's main living space was a great room in the central “balloon” in the bundle It encompassed the piloting station – Bill insisted that “cockpit” was better applied to the bedroom – kitchen, library, and general living room. Jeannie, now clad in a still distractingly brief t-shirt, left the control area and approached food prep, where Bill was assembling brunch. Covered dishes displayed omelets and biscuits. A rack of condiments sat at the middle of the steel dining table. “I have the search radar doing a detail scan of the main Trojan zone. Couple of hours, and we should have a pretty good density map,” Jeannie told the chef.

Bill nodded, then held up the coffee carafe. “Coffee?”

“No,” Jeannie decided after a brief pause. “But I would like a strawberry smoothie, if you left any for me,” she said, as if doubting her chances. Bill was to the berries as groundbounders are said to be to potato crisps; he couldn't eat just one.

Bill opened a fridge and removed a small carton. “You're in luck. While you were checking out the neighborhood, I checked the garden.” Improbable had a hydroponic grow system for air processing and fresh produce. The Hunters primarily grew luxury-type items, such as the strawberries and hot peppers, and relied on canned and freeze-dried staples. The garden was a money-maker when they encountered isolated mining and prospecting operations. “Strawberries are starting to ripen.” He dumped berries, dry milk, water, and a few special touches into a blender and started it up. That blender would look a bit peculiar to nonspacers' eyes, having some adaptations for work in microgravity. Most obvious were the plunger and spigot Bill used to decant the fragrant fluid into a cup, which he carried to Jeannie.

“Danke,” she exclaimed, reaching for the treat.

Bill pulled the cup away. “Ah, ah, ah,” he chided. “Payment first.” He puckered up.

“Vac-brained sex maniac,” she complained, but rose to deliver the demanded kiss.

What should have been a quick peck extended and deepened. Bill blindly set the cup on the table, where it remained, obedient to its attached magnet, just like the plates. His other hand sought other terrain.

Jeannie, startled, jumped and broke the kiss but was saved from drifting away by her partner's groping hand. She caught her breath and spoke with a lowered voice. “At this rate, we aren't going to get blessed thing done.”

Quite abruptly, Bill released her and moved to his seat. “Well, let's eat. I'm hungry,” he announced. Then he rolled his eyes. “And she calls me a sex maniac.” He eyed her accusingly. “We do have thing to do, after all.” He opened his plate and extracted a morsel of apple cinnamon omelet.

Jeannie followed his culinary example, but added, “On the other hand, this is a vacation. The idea was to not work for a while, and relax. Enjoy spending some of the coin we made on the last dig.

Said dig had indeed been profitable. As was their wont, the Hunters drifted about the main Belt almost randomly, running a set of laser spectrometry tests of the larger rocks they encountered. This was a matter of equal parts wanderlust, curiosity, and greed. Commercially extractable metals were always welcome. Depending on type, quantity, and quality, the Hunters might sell their rights to a find to a large company, or do a little mining and preprocessing own their own, selling the semi-refined ore at market. This time, they chanced upon a notable assortment of rare earth elements.

As the name implies, these elements are rare, and thus valuable. Particularly since the electronics industry is totally dependent on them. The Hunters chose to mine and pretreat the ores themselves. In fact, for such occasions, they own a small, semi-automated processing unit that, given sufficient time, could do nearly the whole job. The gadget had been pricey, but profitable.

The problem came from the error in estimating the extent of the deposits. There was more than they had realized initially. A lot more. And neither of the mercenary couple could bring themselves to turn their backs on the money to be made. It had been exhausting, but more profitable than several previous prospecting expeditions combined.

Bill replied to Jeannie's assertion, “On the gripping hand, it is supposed to be a working vacation.” Despite their new found wealth, Bill saw no reason to pay the full cost of the reaction mass demanding for this excursion. He persuaded Tempo-Warren's news service to chip in a few marks in exchange for a first person account of the first manned exploration trip to the Trojans. With a bonus for anything especially interesting.

They argued playfully over whose idea it was first, to buy expendable drop tanks of reaction mass, to extend boost, and tour one of Jupiter's Trojan points. Jeannie conceded that Bill did tend to have the itchier feet, the urge to go see something new; even more so than herself. But Bill likewise had to admit that Jeannie brought up the vacuum cleaner aspects of a Trojan point; all sorts of neat space trash could be there. There were interesting possibilities.

Certain finds in the main Asteroid Belt had restarted the debate over whether or not it had once been a discrete planet. Metal oxides and other “ore” compounds were often found in deposits very like those on larger worlds, as if formed by planetary geologic processes. Conditions remarkably like atmospheric or water erosion had been documented.

Those who preferred the position that Jupiter's gravitational disruption would have prevented a planet from coalescing in the region pointed out that the many and varied orbital elements displayed by asteroids were inconsistent with a single planetary origin.

Velikovskian catastrophists acknowledged the anti-planet argument, and observed that if planet-sized objects did careen about the system every few thousand years, a broken world could very easily be tossed this way and that. And given the geologic finds on Mars and Venus, no one was being too quick to call the catastrophists nuts any more. It was starting to look like just maybe the Solar System did periodically rearrange the cosmic furniture.

With the latter in mind, Jeannie suggested that extremely interesting pieces of... places might be found in little corners of Jupiter orbit. Perhaps, even, something to finally settle the irradiated, freaking argument.

Brunch finished, dishes cleaned and put away, and the daily exercises required to maintain health in long-term – permanent for the Hunters – low and no g completed, it was time to see what the radar scan came up with.

Bill sat down on the library sofa, datapad in hand and Jeannie snuggled close. He tapped icons on the pad, scrolled through a list, and found the radar scan composite. Frowning at the image, he linked to the wall screen “Let's get a better look at this.”

The screen lit and showed a black field flecked with white speckles forming a cloud. Jeannie rose and moved closer to the display. “As space goes, that's bloody crowded.” Then she traced a vague line of increased density through the cloud's middle. “Betcha a blow job that line follows the orbital path. Zoom out, look at it from out of the ecliptic,”she directed.

“Yes, dear. No, dear; no bet.” Bill played with the pad. The cloud shrunk on-screen and rotated. From this perspective, the line became an arc. “And...” Bill spoke again, “ta da! Jupiter's orbit.” A longer green arc threaded the hazy cloud. “We were right.”

“I was right,” Jeannie corrected. “You punched buttons.” She turned back to the display. “That does look somewhat more... populated than the Belt. Zoom in, so I can get a better feel for it.”

“Whatever you want babe.” The cloud expanded, and seemed to engulf them. Ghostly radar echoes flew past. The image halted. The central arc was much larger, but correspondingly more diffuse. “Lessee...” Bill placed a pair of virtual calipers on two “nearby” returns. Numbers flashed on screen.

Jeannie read them off, “Five hundred klicks. Huh, pretty close. Runs some measurements in the central cloud where stuff looks closer. Get an average.”

After a little more electronic magic, they determined that, very roughly, sizable objects were one hundred-fifty kilometers apart. No doubt, when they moved in closer they'd find some small stuff in between. Unless they barreled through at high relative speeds, they were unlikely to bump into anything that Improbable's armor couldn't handle. Even the cleanest mining operations raised some debris that a ship could run into; like most prospectors, the Hunters had added foam and plastic plates to deal with the smaller low velocity crap. This looked cleaner than a big mine's area of ops.

“Seems to me, that if there's anything to see, it's likely gonna be where there's... more,” Bill decided. “What say we come about a kiloklick above the ecliptic and follow the orbital arc end to end of the central cloud?” More taps and scratches, and the wall screen showed his proposed course imposed on the radar data.

“Works for me, “ Jeannie agreed cheerfully. “You get us into position, and then let the navcomp fly the route. I'll config the new scans.” She faced Bill again, with a slightly predatory expression. “I'm sure we can think of something to do while the comp works.”

Mock fear marked Bill's face as Jeannie came closer. “Hey now, I don't want to hear one more word about my sex drive, you succubus.”

Jeannie rubbed against Bill's body. She raised her arms to place her hands on his shoulders causing her entirely inadequate t-shirt to elevate to delightful heights. When she had Bill's rigidly focused attention, she spun away. “Well, let's get to work.” She moved to the pilot console, giving her frustrated partner a good look at what he was now missing. Missing really hard.

Bill eyed the shapely rear end and legs of the retreating woman. “You evil, evil witch,” he muttered .

“You didn't think I forgot breakfast, did you?” Jeannie called back with a giggle. “Be a good boy, and we'll see about later.”

“Evil, evil, evil...”

“Oh. Bueno. Faster now...”

Bill grunted, drawing back, then letting the silky, elastic retaining sheet assist on the forward stroke. “Oooh.”

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

Bill paused in his labors, and looked towards the open door to the great room “What the hell?”

Jeannie answered, breathing heavily. “Just a radar alert. Comp musta spotted something anomalous.”

“Think we should look?” Bill asked, still looking towards the doorway.

Jeannie reached out with both hands and forced his face towards her. “Later!”

After breakfast the next morning, Jeannie let Bill check the radar log. Only the single alert had registered. He found the timestamp in the radar imagery, and zoomed in. “Hey, babe, come tell me what you make of this,” he called towards the kitchen, where Jeannie was loading the dishwasher.

“Just a minute,” she called back, and continued with her task. She finished by wiping down the dining table with a damp cloth, then joined Bill at the pilot console, disdaining to use the library wall screen for once. “Whatcha got, hotshot?”

Bill set his datapad on the console work surface. He'd been tapping away when Jeannie approached. “Definitely an anomaly, as you put it,” he replied. He directed her attention to the radar display. “We gots beaucoup low radar albedo returns; rock, chondrites. Then we got this,” he explained, pointing to a brighter speckle. “Let's animate that.” Bill tapped a button, unfreezing the playback. The speckle was joined by another, then a third. As they flashed, they tumbled in formation. Speckles disappeared and reappeared. The anomaly faded into the distance as the autopiloted craft moved on. Bill froze the display again.

Jeannie reached over, backed up, and let it play again. “Icy. Kinda odd, but what's the big deal?”

Bill lifted his datapad. “I crunched some numbers. The high reflectivity of those spots might be due to polished metal. Like a high temperature event smelting out copper. Or I've heard of electrical arcing giving strong radar returns; that was one of the first indicator the big brains had of the electrical activity on Venus, I think.” He shrugged. “Maybe a recent arrival from deeper space, and charges are equalizing, real fast.” Objects in space did develop charges. When docking, spacecraft typical set a grounding strap to equalize the charges.

“We did come out here to for sightseeing,” she reminded her other half. “Let's go look.”

An expanded sample (six chapters) is available at The Mental Militia Forum. Registration is not required to read.