I was alive! My head hurt like hell, and there were spots of blood—my blood—all over the controls, but I was still playing the game and that's what counted. Now, I just needed to know the score.

"Computer A, I want an abridged damage report and the last known position of the Cruiser." 'A' was the software to the main flight control programs.

There was no answer. "Computer A?"

Still no answer, so I concluded that poor old A must be in even worse shape than I.

That was bad news. I hit a red button marked 'Manual' on the extreme right of the console. Most of the lights blinked out.

"Christ! I've got no primary drive!"

Still, there had to be some way of controlling the corkscrewing motion of my craft. I checked the gyros; fortunately, the manoeuvring systems still seemed to be on line. I bypassed the main drive protocol, and after a few minutes, corrected the spin. I felt just a little better, then. Sure, I had no primary drive. Sure, maybe something like 80% of the ship's functions were defunct. But at least I wasn't suffering from vertigo anymore. It was progress.

I engaged the distress beacon in the hope that the cruiser or some other ship in the fleet might pick it up, but deep down, I knew the chances were slight. I reckoned the Kennedy had written me off.

I recalled the battle: a few, adrenaline-charged seconds as I fired at a Quath fighter, watched it disappear from my screen in an almost innocuous flash. Then retribution, as the retaliatory strike tossed my fighter about. And in that brief millisecond, I knew I was about to die.

So, I supposed I was lucky to be still alive, at least for as long as the life support systems held out. That would be about seven days Terran, as I recalled. But where was I? Would I ever be found? My vehicle wasn't designed for sustained life support, and I had almost no food. Frankly, there was just no room. There wasn't even anywhere to take a crap.

There was, however, a medical unit. I accessed it, sprayed a foam bandage on the cut on my head, and consulted the computer medic. It advised the green anti-shock tablets. I took them, and after a short while all of my faculties came back with a vengeance. Unfortunately, a sense of reality came back as well and I realised that I was doomed.

Strangely, I wasn't particularly frightened. Maybe it was because death wasn't immediately staring me straight in the eye; rather, it was tugging gently but persistently at my elbow. Or maybe it was the medication, which was making me a bit drowsy. At any rate, having done what I could to preserve both my life and what was left of my ship, I made myself as comfortable as I could in the console seat and dozed off.

I have no idea how long I slept. I awoke with a start some time later, feeling strangely guilty, the console jangling in an annoying tune that seemed designed especially to awaken me. It had succeeded, and I instinctively cursed the instrument. Then I realised what it was saying and immediately forgave it, as the proximity alarm's warning conveyed hope.

"Vehicle in view! Vehicle in view! Vehicle in—:"

I cut off its incessant chiming. More in hope than expectation, I hastily engaged the proximity and docking screens.

"Wow!"

I could scarcely believe my eyes as a massive cylindrical craft filled the screen. It was no more than twenty kilometres away. "I'm saved!"

I punched the air in a euphoria that was quickly doused by doubts. What kind of ship was this? Whose was it? I was pretty sure it wasn't a Quoth vehicle—not a triangle in sight. Somehow, cigar-shaped architecture just didn't seem like their thing. So, not Quoth. That left two other possibilities: unknown aliens, or human. Something told me it was the latter.

Though tantalisingly near, the cylinder was still too far out to engage automated docking procedures. And with no main drive unit, docking manually, let alone getting close enough to dock, was going to be mighty tricky. I wracked my brains. Then it came to me: the stabiliser jets!

They operated on a stand-alone system, I remembered, but were they still functional? I tried the front starboard unit. A red light flashed "Inoperative." Cursing, I tried the rear starboard group. Green light.

"Yes!" I guessed a five second burst would do it and fired the jets. It sent the ship cartwheeling again, but the tubular vessel had got even bigger, reinforcing my initial impression of size. I still had no idea of how I was going to dock, but all my survival instincts told me this cigar represented sanctuary, that I had to get there. When I got near enough, I'd figure something out.

My ship's pitching motions evened out and I was able to read the markings on the craft. "Ark 3 - Temperate," it said. Well, at least it was human in origin.

I noticed I was drifting nose-first towards a darkened area marked "Docking Bay 2." It seemed my concerns about docking were being answered, as I was obviously I was being pulled. The vessel must have had some sort of automated, magnetic docking procedure. But I had no retros to slow me down. It was going to be one hell of a landing.

I secured my harness, as the docking bay loomed larger and larger and my speed increased. I braced my self for the inevitable collision. There was a loud crunch of metal and then, darkness.

I was still alive—again!—which meant I must be inside the tubular vessel. I pulled my oxygen umbilical from the console and clipped it to a super-pressurised tank, and then activated the 'Open Hatch' sequence. I stepped from my Z craft expecting to float in zero G.

I was wrong.

I was glued to the surface of the docking bay with what felt like about 1 Terran G. Glancing around, the bay seemed mostly in order, if a bit archaic. Then I spotted the other craft. Similar in size to mine, but of a totally alien construct, it had been crumpled against the dock's bulkhead by the high impact of my very poor landing. In fact it, had acted as a buffer, absorbing most of my considerable momentum. It did not appear to have been here for all that long, which would have concerned me if my attention hadn't been diverted by other, more pressing needs—like breathing.

Initially, it hadn't registered just how dire situation my situation was. After all, I'd survived both being shot down and crash landing into the docking bay, and I was beginning to kid myself that I was indestructible. But as the only visible control panel stared back at me with dead, dysfunctional eyes, it dawned on me: somehow, I had to exit this air lock and get to the main concourse, or whatever it was in the cylinder. But if the panel was dead, how was I to get inside?

I searched forlornly around what appeared to be the air lock transfer door, but there was nothing, no hint of a way through. Why wasn't there a manual backup? A bloody, great big wheel? A lever? Something…anything? I looked everywhere, and then looked everywhere again. Still nothing.

I checked my oxygen levels and found them distressingly low. The search had taken longer than I'd thought. It came to me that after all I'd gone through, this was it. I was going to suffocate.

"Shit!"

Venomously, I hurled a piece of debris at the blank, dirty, grey wall and checked my life support systems again. Great. Three minutes to live. Then I caught a flash of movement from the corner of my visored eye. Turning as abruptly as can be managed in a full pressure suit, I half expected to see an eight-foot tall alien coming for me.

Instead, I saw a section of panelling swinging outwards to reveal…

A bloody, great big wheel.

Bleep…bleep…bleep.

My suit's alarm was going off. "Life support systems expire in sixty seconds," it informed me calmly. I ran to the wheel and tried it. It was stuck.

"Life support systems expire in thirty seconds."

I wrenched with all my strength and the wheel budged a fraction. I kept turning.

"Life support systems expire in twenty seconds."

A small, waist-high port slowly revealed itself. The opening was only about a metre square.

"Life support systems expire in ten seconds."

I dove through the tiny aperture into total darkness and found myself inside a claustrophobically small chamber. The port grated closed behind me. Would the air lock work?

"Life support systems have expired."

I held my breath and hoped. When I could hold it no longer, I flicked open my visor and inhaled. The musty, ancient mixture just about passed for air. Lights flicked miraculously on and I made out a smaller air lock wheel. It looked crude but, hopefully, functional. This wheel was also very stiff but I was able to turn it, revealing a door identical to the one I'd come in through. I crawled through the aperture and caught my breath at the world of the tube.

And a 'world' is was. I'd never thought about what might lie ahead, while I was struggling to survive in the air lock. But now, the familiarity—and yet, total strangeness—of what surrounded me overloaded my senses. The air was refreshingly breathable; belatedly, my suit's climate unit told me it was Terran compatible, something I already knew by then. The gravity level was comfortable, approximating Terran levels, as in the air lock. Having seen the vessel's spinning motion on my approach, I assumed the gravity was maintained through centrifugal force, although I could not feel the movement here inside. I was impressed me; centrifuge systems were antiquated and notoriously crude, but this one appeared to work very well, indeed.

I had emerged into an area of rolling hills covered in deciduous woodlands, occasionally interrupted by conifers at the higher altitudes. A strangely quiet lake lay in the foreground, and the grassy fields scattered between the trees abounded with small, floppy-eared, big-footed animals I did not immediately recognize. Casting back in my mind to early lessons in Terran life forms, I finally came up with 'rabbits'. The animals were rabbits, small grazing animals famous for their ability to breed. Although I'd never seen one in the flesh before, I seemed to recall that they were edible. Not that I fancied trying to capture and prepare one! I was accustomed to getting my food from a dispenser, pre-processed, ready-to-eat, and containing all the necessary vitamins and nutrients.

I edged forward cautiously, through trees six times my height. Some of the species I recognised from visits to the Botanical Gardens in Mothership A. Indeed, the whole world reminded me of the gardens—except, of course, that there appeared to be no one here to maintain it. Clearly, the life aboard this tube, and I could see that there was plenty of it, must be able to survive without maintenance. I was no expert on ecology, though I'd been through several survival-related lectures on the subject, but I was amazed that life could be maintained on so relatively small a scale.

The tube was only maybe eight kilometres long, by about one wide. Maintaining a balance of species involved evolution shaped over millennia, on a planet-wide scale. True, separate ecosystems evolved according to local climatic conditions, but as far as I could see, this place was totally artificial. All of the life forms must have been specially chosen, so they would blend together in a synthesised ecosystem that worked. I guessed that the animals and plants were exactly like their original counterparts from earth of maybe a thousand years ago. Certainly, the creatures I saw all around me looked to be genetic originals, and they were truly wild, particularly the rabbits. Whenever I walked in their general direction, the ground vibrated to their stamping before they ran quickly away, their cottony white tails bobbing up and down in a comical fashion.

Watching them nibble the grass made me realise how hungry I was. I unfastened my suit and searched the emergency ration pocket. I found the usual supply of carbo-protein tablets, which would keep me going for a week, maybe more if I rationed them. I was in no immediate danger of starving, but unless I was rescued fairly soon, I would eventually be forced to go native and forage, like the animals around me, for food.

Thinking about that prospect, I noticed some blackish berries on a bush a few metres ahead of me. They were small, probably the thickness of my thumb in diameter and roughly globular, and I fancied they looked edible. Going over to the bush, I stretched out my hand for one, pushing my way through a mass of foliage.

"Ouch!"

I withdrew my prickled hand and now noticed that the shrub was coated with a mass of wicked spines. Taking more care, I reached in again and plucked out a good example. Hoping the chemical analysis unit in my suit still worked, I pressed a green button on the left thigh of my suit. A tiny cup popped out, and I dropped the berry in and re-inserted it. Half expecting the fruit to be poisonous, I waited anxiously until the indicator winked an edible green.

Now, the fact that the unit diagnosed the fruit as non-poisonous didn't necessarily mean it would taste good. But since I at least I knew I wasn't about to be poisoned, I forced myself to eat the berry…and was pleasantly surprised. The black berry was succulent, its piquant flavour unlike anything I'd ever tasted before. Then again, I'd never eaten raw, unprocessed berries before, either. I quickly gathered a couple of handfuls and gobbled them down.

My hunger pangs thus somewhat eased, I began to explore the area around the air lock. Climbing to the summit of a low hill, I stared around in wonder at the miniature world I'd stumbled into. The obviously Terran landscape imitated a thousand idealised pictures I'd seen of the old planet, though in truth, no picture could truly do the scene in front of me justice. It was beautiful, in a friendly, primeval way, and I immediately felt at home. I recognised several of the tree species from my training stint, and I'd seen some of the animals in zoos, or in paintings in Centrac's Art Gallery, but I soon realised just how little I really knew about the home planet that had spawned us centuries before. I climbed down, and started wandering.

The bizarre curvature of the tube baffled me. It was the strangest thing. I walked toward a cluster of hillocks surmounting a trickle of pale blue water that culminated in a pond, and looking across it, I could only trace the terrain rising upwards for so far, until it merged in to a blue sky flecked with cloud along the tube's side. How that effect, if indeed it was an effect, was achieved I wasn't sure, but it meant that I could never see diametrically across or above me. I eventually deduced that a smaller, slimmer cylinder, painted to look natural, formed the blue sky. The clouds were probably generated mechanically, occasionally gaining sufficient size to yield simulated rain. Other than the distorted perspective caused by the tube's walls, the overall effect was very much like being on a small planet. It certainly didn't seem like the inside of an oversized spacecraft.

When I reached the lake, I found that it was, in fact, two lakes. They were separated by a metre-high sand dune, and most of the water was contained in the lake to my left. Looking into the smaller pool in front of me, I marvelled at the legions of creatures populating it. I dipped a finger in the cool water and a grey fish the size of my forearm darted away into the deeps. Cupping a few drops of water in my hand, I dropped them in to my tester. A few seconds later, the green light confirmed what I'd already suspected.

I climbed the dune to look at the larger pool then, noting that its water was strangely, even unnaturally calm. There were no fish, no birds—in fact, no creatures of any sort whatsoever seemed to be in the vicinity of this lake. I found it uncanny, especially as the two pools were mere paces apart, and for the life of me I couldn't figure out why they were so different.

I cautiously approached the water's edge and dipped my fingertip in. It seemed okay. I ran a test, and got a green light. A ripple broke the surface of the pool.

It had only been a small ripple, but it had felt…wrong. I tensed. There could have been a hundred reasons for that ripple, all of them harmless, but deep down I knew something was wrong.

Something plopped, and another ripple radiated towards me. I realised that the lake was inhabited by something, something sinister. That was why there were no other creatures around it. I had the nagging sensation of being watched and froze.

There was a small splash immediately in front of me, and then I saw it.

You never really become immune to fear, but as a fighter pilot, especially one with my sort of experience, you did learn to control it. I'd been trained to cope with almost every eventuality, but still the thing lurching towards me on a weird network of tendrils shocked me to the core. The protuberance above the tendrils was large, maybe twice the size of a man's head. But it was certainly not the head of any mammal, nor was it a plant's bud. It appeared instead to be something bizarrely in between. I glimpsed finger-length stalks, and a gaping maw. It wasn't so much a mouth as a cavity, running the full width of the protuberance and encrusted with rows of vicious, inward curling thorns.

I'd seen enough. I ran, but it was too late.

A tendril found my left ankle and sent me sprawling onto a bush. Its grip tightened like a tourniquet as the thing began reeling me back towards itself. Desperately, I clung to the shrub, wrapping my body around its trunk but the thing was too strong. Slowly, the pressure on my ankle increased.

I screamed as the thing continued to haul me in, bush and all. Frantic, I flicked open the emergency pouch on my right thigh. The only I could find even remotely resembling a weapon was an electronic charging device, a small pointed gismo that emitted a fairly mild electric shock. I viciously jabbed the tendril clinging to my ankle with the pointy end, but it had no effect. I wished I'd had a knife, but the boffins at HQ in charge of equipment were never that practical.

Then an idea came to me. I activated the charging device and stabbed again.

Miraculously, the thing screeched in pain and the tendril released me. I scrabbled away on all fours, not even daring to look back until I was a good thirty metres away.

Once the circulation had returned in my foot, I stumbled awkwardly into the safety of the woods. I was still shaking like a fool, so I hurriedly accessed my medical kit, ate some sweet tablets, and took a few deep breaths until I regained control of myself. As I began to think rationally again, I noticed that the sky had darkened. A simulated night was about to fall. I ate a protein biscuit from my pack and swallowed a few more of the black berries hanging on nearby bushes. It was getting chilly, so I reset the climatic thermostat in my suit and settled in for the night.

I heard twittering of some insects, and a hooting noise from a night bird, but not much else.

I awoke suddenly, lathered in sweat. Switching off the suit's thermostat, I sat up with a start and found to my horror that I was laying in the undergrowth not more than ten paces from the dead lake's edge. As I looked at it, the pool rippled very slightly, and I jumped up and ran like a maniac. I was only just in time—a whiplash of a tendril snaked after me, but I successfully dodged it.

"Shit!"

My heart was pounding, partly in anger, partly in surprise. What the hell was I doing so close to that lake? I had no recollection whatsoever of bedding down anywhere near it; in fact, I definitely remembered going to sleep at a safe distance from that…thing. Yet, somehow, in the night I'd moved. Had it been subconsciously? But why?

Then it came to me: what if that thing had called me?

If my supposition was correct, the beast in the lake was even more dangerous than I'd first thought. I couldn't survive by simply avoiding it—somehow, I had to kill it, before it killed me. Skirting the edge of the lake at a respectable distance from the shore, I studied the water closely, never taking my eyes off it for a second. Nothing moved.

"Oh—"

I tripped over an object in the undergrowth and fell headlong. I wasn't hurt, but my face bumped up against something hard, something that was not a rock. I recoiled in horror from a dreadful stench. It was a dead body.

I averted my eyes, fighting the instinct to vomit. When I'd regained control, I forced myself to study the remains. The poor creature seemed to twitch now and again due to the myriad insect larvae writhing within the corpse as they consumed it. I swallowed hard, and examined it more closely.

The figure had definitely been male, and I classified him as an alien despite his more or less human appearance. He had been much taller than an average human, though, and very thin. Although his facial features had partially rotted away, I could still distinguish that the skull was flattened, almost ape-like, and the nose was turned up in a manner that reminded me of the old Terran animal, the 'pig.'

I didn't need to be a doctor to see that the alien's injuries had been massive. The right arm was completely missing, and a large, brownish stain on that side told me he'd bled extensively, probably to death. The body was in a sitting position, as if he'd been at bay when he'd died. In his left hand, he clenched a vicious-looking serrated knife.

I surmised he'd been the owner of the craft I'd demolished in the docking bay. His technology must therefore have been at least equal to our own, yet still he'd fallen victim to that thing in the lake. As I studied him, the thought came to me that he'd cut off his own arm to avoid being taken. And now, here he remained, still holding his last stand in foetid defiance. What bravery! I saluted him as a fellow warrior.

Having paid my respects, I sought to salvage anything useful. I prised the blade from his knotted fingers with great difficulty, resorting at last to smashing two of his digits with a rock. But the knife would be very useful, as I had nothing of the sort with me. Next, I checked his suit. Although it was radically different than mine, I had no doubt it served the same purpose. The visor was open, which I took to indicate he had breathed oxygen, like me. It occurred to me that he must have survived in the tube for some time before 'It' had gotten him.

I found a clasp and depressed it. The suit instantly clicked apart. After what seemed an age of wrestling with it, I parted it from its owner, tipped the mass of scavenging things out of the interior, and carried it away to examine more closely. I didn't want to breathe in the stench of the cadaver any longer than absolutely necessary.

The suit was surprisingly light. Even the bulky integral containers, which I assumed contained oxygen, were of some incredibly light, but very strong, alloy. I found a path winding through thick scrub, and since it led away from the lake and its sinister inhabitant, I followed it. Several kilometres on, near what I estimated to be the end of the tube, it split. One branch disappeared upwards into thick undergrowth, and although I thought it would likely be a dead end, I took it anyway. After all, I had plenty of time to explore.

I carefully parted the undergrowth as I went, using a hefty stick I'd picked up. The encounter with that thing in the lake had made me wary, though in truth I'd not seen any other large animals. Still, having the stick gave me a little more confidence. I thrashed through undergrowth for some considerable time, always going upwards, and I noticed the gravity lessening significantly as I climbed. This confirmed my theory that it was created by the centrifugal force of the tube spinning. I pushed through a dense patch and glimpsed something artificially white through the shrubbery. I hesitated, not quite sure what further surprises were in store.

Eventually, though, my curiosity gained the upper hand. I burst into a small clearing, waving my stick aggressively. And unnecessarily, as it happened, for the place was clearly uninhabited, encroaching vegetation indicating that nothing had come this way for some time. The white thing I had glimpsed through the underbrush was actually a tent-like structure, hemispherical in shape and perhaps two and a half metres long, by two metres high. Approaching, I saw that it was constructed of a shiny, white, plastic-like substance of a type I'd never seen before. It was extremely fine and almost weightless, but apparently tough enough to provide shelter. I found a flap and ripped it open sharply, still brandishing my stick, just in case.

As I expected, the tent was empty, save for a wealth of equipment. It seemed I had found the alien's survival shack. Looking around, I realised that the Longman, as I'd begun to think of him, had clearly been better prepared with emergency provisions than this poor human. A host of small capsules stacked in a corner were undoubtedly rations; if our physiologies were sufficiently compatible to allow me to ingest them, they would be very useful. I decided to test them later, though, as my attention was captured by a shiny, light turquoise globe sitting on a tripod in the centre of the tent. A small handle extended from its side. Thinking the handle might somehow activate the device I picked up the globe, and wound the handle around vigorously.

Nothing happened.

Then I noticed two rectilinear touch pads and pressed one at random. The turquoise globe lit up, providing light equivalent to a bright, sunny day. Impressed, I touched the other pad. Now, the globe radiated heat as well as light. I smiled. It really was a clever device; turning the handle must have generated electricity, which was stored and used to power lighting and heating elements. The Longman's people were certainly no fools.

A square of opaque film was lying on the ground, and I guessed it to be a sleeping pad of some sort. It looked like it would provide good insulation, so I lay down and tried it for size. It was more than long enough, but a little tight for me in width. I recalled the thinness of the Longman's body, and, thinking about his gangly form, surmised he'd come from a planet with a lesser gravity. It would explain why he'd established his base way up here, where the tube's gravity was significantly reduced.

I shifted position, and rolled onto a sharp lump. I pulled the sleep film back, fully expecting to find a root. Instead, I found a spear. Improvised from a shaft of hard wood, it was slimmer than my little finger and about a metre and a half in length. A barbed, wickedly pointed head of some very hard metal tipped one end. Just behind the spearhead was a silvered sleeve, maybe fifteen centimetres long, with a hexagonal nipple protruding from its side. The nipple was clearly designed to rotate, and reminded me of something else I'd just discovered.

I turned back to the light/heat device and considered its handle. It came off easily, revealing a hexagonal bolt head. As I suspected, the handle's bolt fit the nipple exactly, and I nodded to myself. The Longman had been devising a weapon that could deliver a substantial electric charge. It had to have been intended for the thing in the lake. Clever, but I wasn't sure I fancied the chances.

I hefted the spear; it was quite light. Perhaps, gravitationally challenged as he'd been here, the Longman hadn't had sufficient strength to hurl anything heavier than that. No doubt in his native environment, he'd have managed better.

I noticed the light outside had begun to fade, so I hurried outside and picked some berries to supplement my ration pack. After eating, I felt very tired, so I took off my suit and slid into the sleep film.

I woke abruptly at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. At first, I thought I'd been dreaming. Then, I realised where I was.

"Oh, hell!"

The dead lake lay immediately in front of me, motionless, threatening. The creature had summoned me again, but fortunately, I had awakened just in time. I backed away rapidly, just before the tell-tale ripples erupted all around where I'd been.

"Aid required."

A strangely mechanical voice echoed on my right, further down the bank.

"Aid required."

I heard it again. I knew I was not imagining it, so I edged carefully around the perimeter of the lake, staying sufficiently inland to avoid the creature's grasp but hopefully near enough to locate the source of the distress call. I found footprints that were very similar to a human's, but longer and narrower. I felt sure they'd been made by the Longman.

I was following the footprints when I saw the droid. Only the tip of its hemispherical head was visible from beneath the metre deep water of the shallows. A rush of adrenaline sent me racing into the waters after it.

I grabbed its cranium and tried to drag it from the mud, but it was well and truly stuck. I kept pulling. No doubt the Longman had been attempting something similar when he met his end, but in this gravity, at least, I proved the stronger. The droid moved; not much, but it gave me heart. I rocked the machine and this time, it came clear of the mud.

Very slowly, it began to move itself toward the water's edge. I followed, jubilant, incautious.

Something touched me.

With horror, I remembered the beast. I waded furiously towards dry land and safety, but not quickly enough. A tendril lassoed my right leg, throwing me off balance. I fell toward the bank, face-first. My hand felt some tree roots, and I grabbed on.

Although I knew there was no one to hear, I screamed for help as the tendril tensed, cutting deeply into the flesh of my calf. My grip slipped and the creature pulled me back toward the water. I lashed out with the Longman's knife only to have another tendril whip around my wrist. The knife flew from my hand and I was sure my time had come. A searing, burning sensation wracked my body and I screamed again.

Then I realised the tendrils had let go. Sobbing like a stung child, I ran crazily from the water's edge. Only after I had passed the Longman's body did I stop. I gasped for breath, cursing.

"Jesus Christ!"

"That is not my name. I am Aspira Industries Ecological Maintenance Droid Mark 14, Unit 3. You may address me as Unit 3."

I managed a smile. Always formal, were utility droids. Still, it was company of a sort, and I certainly welcomed that. "Unit 3, I take it you produced an electric charge to drive off the beast?"

"That is correct, humanoid whose name I do not know. The beast is of a specification not contained in my data banks. It is, however, susceptible to electrical charges."

Recognising my chance to find out more about the tube, I pumped Unit 3, who duly obliged. He informed me that the tube, as I'd been calling it, had been one of nine such vessels orbiting the planet Xarin. Each vessel, or Ark, as he called them, had contained a particular Terran ecosystem. The plan had been to transfer these to the surface of Xarin after the planet had been terraformed.

To say I was surprised would have been a massive understatement. This quadrant was supposedly uncharted, which was why we were embattled with the Quath. The fact that this system had been colonised by Terran settlers in the past made the human claim on it undeniable, although I guessed something catastrophic must have happened to the settlers. At least one of the Arks had survived, though.

Next, I asked Unit 3 about the Longman.

"The neo-humanoid has been resident for some 4 months Terran. He is no longer functional."

"Where was he from?"

"I have insufficient data. The Universe outside Ark 3 is not my domain. The neo-humanoid is called Tarl. He is responsible for the unknown life form."

"What? You mean he made it deliberately?" I raged.

"Negative. The unknown life form, which he called the Brade, was introduced accidentally in the form of a seed. It has grown to massive proportions, and feeds on any life form available. It has already ingested 98.7% of the species in Lake One, and my sensors suggest it is about to spread to Lake Two. Eventually, it will destroy all life systems in the Ark. It must be terminated. Priority high."

Lights blinked then faded. "My energy reserves are near critical," Unit 3 said. "I must recharge in the solar bank for 12 Terran hours. We will exchange data on disposal of the Brade after my recharge. I suggest you wait at Tarl's maintenance facility and advise you not to close down your biological systems. The Brade has hypnotic abilities. Recharge is now imperative."

The little machine stalked off with an ungainly gait that was nevertheless to fast for me to keep up with. So, I wandered slowly back to the camp, ate berries and rations, and struggled to stay awake. It was a long night.

When daylight arrived, I was dog-tired and edgy, thinking about the droid's words: "It must be terminated. Priority high." The Brade was to be terminated? I grimaced. Nasty word, that: terminated. Nasty task. How were we, a small maintenance droid and a single unarmed man, to destroy this thing? Tarl the Longman had failed, even with all his technology—

His technology.

I remembered the spear. Tarl must have had some confidence in it. Perhaps he'd had time to learn more about the Brade, learn its capabilities—and its weaknesses.

I picked up the weapon and examined it closely. I felt certain it could kill that thing, although my confidence might have been totally unjustified. Still, it was quite possibly my only hope. I grasped it firmly.

Everything would depend upon delivering the spear's point to the right place. Unit 3 had described the Brade as having a huge nucleus from which a myriad of tendrils radiated, each tipped with a sensor bud. But the distance from the edge of the creature's reach to its nucleus was substantial, and I knew I could not hurl a spear that distance, not in ordinary gravity. I would need something to help in delivering the spear. Something like…a bow! Even now, with lasers and self-guided projectile systems, the bow was still one of the most efficient means of killing ever devised. But I very much doubted my ability to produce a bow powerful enough to shoot anything like the requisite distance. Unless, of course, I got above it…

I heard movement outside. Unit 3 had returned.

"Humanoid Johnson, you must terminate the Brade."

"I know." I smiled. Unit 3 made it all sound very simple. "Tell me, Unit 3. Do you have access to the solar mirrors and panels above us?"

"Affirmative. I perform diagnostic checks on all energy producing units once per Terran year."

"Show me."

He took off upwards through the undergrowth to where the hillside stretched to its highest point against the end wall of the Ark. There, concealed behind the trunk of a mighty conifer, was a ladder. It reached upwards into the simulated clouds and out of view.

"What do you know about this weapon?" I asked, showing him the spear.

"Neo-humanoid Tarl had great faith it could electrocute the Brade into total dysfunction. Three revolutions of the key are needed to arm the mechanism. The receptor can hold the charge for the equivalent of 12.4 Terran seconds."

I explained my plan. When I'd finished, Unit 3 stalked off to take up position by the dead lake, where he was to feign an attack on the Brade. I located a suitable branch and started on my bow. My survival training served me well yet again and in short order, I had serviceable weapon. I made some test arrows and fired one. It flew a respectable eighty metres. I reduced the shaft of Tarl's spear to a more manageable arrow length, and was as ready as I was going to be.

I climbed the service ladder with the bow over my shoulder, the truncated spear and two test arrows clutched in one hand. The climb was arduous at first, but became easier as I approached the centre of the vessel and the gravity continued to lessen. I estimated I was very near the ship's core when I spotted the inspection gantry running along the underside of a gigantic sky blue tube. I half-walked, half-floated along it, until I could see the lake several hundred metres below me. Simulated clouds drifted by now and then, partially blocking my view, but I could see the massive shape lurking in the depths near the centre.

I could see the beast. Now I had to make it come out to play.

I manoeuvred around the gantry to a position directly above the Brade. I took out an arrow, steadied myself, and aimed into the lake's shallows, not knowing how much to allow for the varying gravity. Several seconds later, I saw the concentric rings on the lake's surface marking the arrow's entry. The trial arrow had landed pretty much where I had intended. I readied myself for another shot and looked for Unit 3, but a cloud drifted by and restricted my vision.

"Damn!"

The cloud passed, revealing a tiny figure approaching the shallows. Unit 3 was beginning his decoy mission. He was to emit short pulses of electricity to draw the Brade from cover. I fired the second test arrow to let him know I was ready and he entered the lake.

I watched the Brade's lurking shape. At first, it did not respond. Then, slowly, the monster moved, its body core and main sensory organs crawling ominously towards poor Unit 3. I tracked the thing along the gantry, keeping myself directly above it, sweating in anxiety as it enveloped the droid in its tendrils. I knew we had very little time, as the constant electrical discharges would soon sap Unit 3's charge. I needed it to emerge from the water enough for me to shoot.

"Come to Daddy!"

Sure enough, it did.

Nothing could have prepared me for the shock of the creature's loathsome alien form. The oval mound of its central nucleus spawned a mass of writhing tendrils, with brilliant purple sensors arranged around another, smaller mound in the centre of its body. Seeing those receptors, I wondered if that were its brain.

I poised to fire at the smaller mound, my fingers edging towards the winding mechanism. Then the beast dimmed and disappeared from view. Cloud! Thick cloud was obscuring my target.

I waited. Twenty seconds passed, maybe more. It felt an eternity. Then, through a chink in the cloud, I saw Unit 3, totally engulfed by tendrils. His power banks could have gone critical at any time. I waited as the gap in the cloud slowly rode up the beast's mass, tapping my fingers in frustration. I waited, and waited… At last, I could see my targeted spot. I wound the mechanism, once…twice…three times. I took a deep breath, aimed, and fired. For agonising seconds, nothing happened.

Then, all hell broke loose. The lake broke into a frenzied maelstrom as the Brade's tendrils whipped the air. The electrified pool crawled and steamed. In its agony, the thing squealed, a dreadful, unnaturally high pitched keening that jarred every nerve in my body. I clapped my hands to my ears to keep out sound, but to no avail. I could not even hear my own, answering screams, just the beast's keening.

Silence fell like a blackened curtain and I awoke from the nightmare. I was still precariously perched on the gantry, and through the fleecy clouds, I made out the Brade's massive, inert shape. My whole frame convulsed with sobs of relief.

Eventually, I regained a kind of dithering self-control and edged cautiously back along the gantry to the inspection ladder. Everything after that became a blur, but apparently I made my way back to the camp, for that was where I awoke to find a pale, impassive face leaning over me. I recoiled in terror, my hands instinctively seeking the stick.

It wasn't needed. The Longman took an ungainly, defensive step backwards, but made no threatening moves.

Unit 3 spoke. "The Brade is inoperative. The Ark will soon return to full sustainability."

I found my voice and said, "Tell the Longman I commiserate with him over the death of Tarl. Without his ingenuity and courage, I would never have been able to destroy the Brade."

"We have already exchanged data on the matter," the droid assured me. "The Longmen are appreciative of your efforts. They are currently introducing short-term, biodegradable nano units to the lake that will devour the Brade's mass. Lake One will be able to sustain bio-organisms reintroduced from Lake Two in 50 Terran days."

"Wow! That's pretty impressive." We had nano technology, of course, but bulk biodegraders were something we hadn't yet managed.