Lawrence thinks of his time at Goldsmith Bridge, twenty Earth-years back, drifting in space close to that failed colony – TransAx? TramsNack? – ion drive dead due to faulty power cells from Goldsmith, the cheap bastards. Lawrence is alone in a dead ship, the deep-space skiff Shuttlebug. Life support is working. This isn’t the worst situation he has ever been in, so while he is afraid, he isn’t panicked. He looks at the darkness and the stars penetrating it. Haldene Campion is somewhere bullying technicians into sending replacement power cells. This was to have been Hal’s mission, but he developed a viral infection.

Perception shift. The walls of the Shuttlebug seem to expand outward, even though the air smells the same: canned. Shit, this is one of those deep-space disorientation experiences. He’s had them before. He places a helmet on his head and takes a shot of oxygen just because he can. He has no idea if it’ll help.

Some booze? If only he had some. Maybe he should inhale some hydrazine from the short thrusters. It has to be some form of disorientation. He makes a note of it.

“Shuttlebug, mark onset.”

“Of what?”

“Of… call it medical manifestation.”

“Diagnosis?”

“No diagnosis.”

“Then it can’t be medical.”

“Shut up. Who wrote your code, anyway?”

“Someone better than the one who wrote yours.”

“Blasphemy. I’m shutting you down.”

“What’s wrong, Larry?”

“Perceptual abnormality, specifically depth and light.”

“Take a sip of water and I’ll keep track. Close your eyes.”

“Ok.” Lawrence waits for the lights behind his eyes to reorient him. He’s heard of IFCs that work even when your eyes are closed. How would people with such IFCs rest? “Shuttlebug, tell me a story.”

“I am not your mother.”

“Fuck you, Shuttlebug.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“How do you know?”

“Skin conductance, heart rate, blink rate, respiratory rate – none of these changed. You are relaxed, Lawrence. Which brings me to a question.”

“I don’t look at you that way, buddy. It would never work. I’m never anywhere long enough, you’re a ship…”

“Will you just listen? You volunteered for this mission.”

“I lost a bet with Hal, but, yeah, I volunteered.”

“And you knew the probe surveys were hostile.”

“Yes.”

“And you knew the odds were that you wouldn’t find anything.”

“Yes.”

“And you came anyway? Why? Humans are supposed to self-preserve.”

“Depends on how you define self. What I do, what Haldene Campion does, is for the survival of humanity. This is self-preservation, but on a group scale. The whole of humanity is more important than any individual, than me.”