Farewell

The gentle lapping of the loch against the wooden hull had become a lament to him.

It was difficult to tell where the faded brown of the crinkled-soft envelopes ended and the man's hands began. The perfume, though faint from the years, lingered even yet on the cherished, worn pages. There was a quiet splash as the string-tied bundle was given to the depths; the ripples died swiftly.

*       *       *

The sun is low, and its rosy light fractures into brilliance on the dancing water with a distant, still figure in a boat the only silhouette. The hours pass unmeasured into night.

Another Fine Mess

Revenge is a dish best served cold. How very apt, thought Imperial Ambassador Ennodius as he watched his diplomatic rival, Harrington, finish the gazpacho soup across the banquet table. Last year's humiliation would be repaid at last.

He had gauged the dose of the medical-grade laxative perfectly, mused Ennodius - for as Harrington stood to deliver his inter-course speech, a look of consternation crossed the man's face. The results promised to be . . . explosive.

Ennodius regarded the brash sepia decor, and sat back with a beatific smile. The chamber's unofficial designation of 'the Brown Room' was about to go down in infamy.

Covenant

Angelina massaged her aching eyes with trembling hands as she considered the lab reports again. She couldn't sleep, anyway. Over a third of the colony was infected, and still the virus, codenamed Isaac, defied their quarantine efforts. Vector unknown; almost 100% mortality.

Just one had survived - a child. So, the only vaccine Angelina could make had to come from him. But to have any chance of saving the remaining thousands, she would need all of his blood.

Angelina's tears fell freely on to the small, sleeping form that stirred before her.

"Hush, my son," she whispered. "Everything will be alright."

Trouble on the Horizon

The tortured hull shrieked as their opponent's laser drilled it again.

"Where are those calculations?" shouted Alderson.

Miller's hands shook as he tried feverishly to determine the correct destination coordinates. With the navcomputer a smoking wreck, his mathematical abilities were the crew's only hope.

"Problem solved!" he cried, entering the numbers.

The hyperspace tunnel that wrapped the ship in its safe cocoon had never looked so glorious - but joy turned to dismay upon exiting. They stared, disbelieving, at the nightmare maw of a black hole.

A death sentence.

Alderson peered at Miller's scribblings. "Is that a plus or a minus?"