Alien Earth Read Free Page A

you might have the unit recolonized while we’re docked at Delta. Still, according to all my references, the image is within safe and acceptable parameters.”
    “Safe and acceptable parameters? Tug, don’t try to tell me that this image is as good as the one we got on the old equipment that they made us turn in for this.”
    Tug considered a moment. “While the image may not be as sharp nor as adjustable, the equipment is much more harmonious with the environment. All components are completely recyclable with a waste factor of less than point two percent.”
    “Wonderful. We can’t see a damn thing on the screen, but we can be content knowing that the whole thing can be remanufactured into something even less useful with a minimum of waste.”
    Tug either couldn’t think of a reply or chose not to. John crossed his arms on his chest and settled back into his couch. Despite his resolutions, the true source of his frustration pushed itself to the front of his mind again. It had been the first message up on his screen when he’d come out of Waitsleep. Norwich Shipping thanked John, Tug, crew, and the Evangeline herself for their years of service, but were regretful to inform him that such services were no longer required. References would be furnished, of course. Brief and to the point. And totally maddening in that John could think of no reason why they would want to terminate their contract with the Evangeline. She was the only Beastship around that was still unmodified from the old Lifeboat days. No one else had their cargo capacity. They’d never missed a deadline or screwed up a delivery. It made no sense at all, and it promised to turn what should have been a relaxing shore time into a maze of negotiations as John hunted down new clients for the Evangeline. Dammit, it made no sense.
    He wanted to stew on Norwich Shipping’s sudden refusal to renew their contract, but was distracted by one monitor’s image. It was a station relay of Evangeline approaching the dock. Not even the fuzziness of the degrading biologics could totally obscure the beauty of the Beast that powered his ship. He ignored the functional cell-meld structure of the gondola fastened to Evangeline; that was but the container that housed the Human crew and provided cargo space. It had no intrinsic beauty, only functional practicality. No, it was Evangeline herself—the organic Beast portion of his Beastship—that captivated him. He realized abruptly that he had been staring silently at the screen for several minutes. After all these years, she could still entrance him like that. He snorted at his own sentiment, and shifted his gaze to another monitor.
    It showed him Delta Station. He’d grown up on BetaStation, which was identical to Delta and the other two dirty-tech stations that orbited Castor. It made for maximum efficiency in manufacturing components and maintaining the stations. Maximum boredom, too. He knew every seam and span in the construction of the stations from his days as a maintenance shuttle pilot. It had been thirty-seven years for the station dwellers since he had last been here, but it looked to him as if only his subjective three months had passed; if the Conservancy had made any changes in Delta, they weren’t readily apparent. Just looking at the unimaginative functionality of the station crumpled the moment of peace he’d felt in watching Evangeline’s organic opulence and renewed his earlier discontentment. The exterior of the station mirrored too accurately the blandly efficient interior of the station, of all the stations, even of his own ship.
    Well, in a short time he’d be plunged into that grindingly efficient and correct place. It had been bad enough when all that meant was off-loading a cargo and picking up a new consignment. At least then he’d been free to follow his own interests, which usually meant spending the bulk of his pay on information and entertainments for his library. But this time it meant