"Ian, I hate to interrupt, but I'm picking up a faint beacon. It's way the hell over toward the course for the galactic core, several light-years out. But damn, is it pow erful to get this far!"
Stasz turned around in his seat and looked at Ian ex pectantly.
Ian looked at Richard, but he was already out of it. There was no sense in even asking Elijah.
He looked at Ellen and smiled.
"Well, Miss Certification, looks like you're going to miss the next semester, as well!"
"Ian, you wouldn't!"
"I can tell you one thing I've read the paperwork on. According to the grant, I'm in command of this ship so I need not be democratic."
He looked past Ellen and gave a command that he had long fantasized about. "Full speed ahead, Stasz."
"Oh, by the way, Ian," Richard said while stirring from his lethargic stupor, "can you explain what the hell this is? Shelley said she picked it up in the corridor while you and Smith were wrestling about in such a deplorable fash ion. She gave it to me thinking it came from my late lamented drinking kit."
Richard held the alien artifact in his hand. Ian shot a quick look over to Elijah, who sat silent, as if the object were a mystery to him as well.
"Oh, it just fell out of my pocket," Ian responded lamely as he rushed over to grab the most valuable artifact known to Man.
"Curious looking." Richard held it up for everyone to see. "What the hell is this blue button for?"
"Don't!"
Too late! With an exclamation of pain Richard dropped the rod after a flicker of flame shot out the opposite end.
Ian picked it up and nervously pressed the blue button. An inch or so of bright blue flame shot out the opposite end.
"Ian, what the hell are you doing with a cigarette lighter?" Shelley asked. "You don't even smoke."
"Oh, just saving the Earth with it," Ian said evenly. He turned and walked out of the room.
A cigarette lighter, he had faked out the most powerful man in the universe with a goddamn alien cigarette lighter-and his laughter echoed through the ship.
Alone in the main cabin, he punched into the ship's computer and in fairly short order the first analysis came in on the beacon. It looked like L-5 319!
He remembered that one. Even as he started to call up the data he heard the scuffle of boots on the deck.
"Come on over, as long as it isn't Ellen."
He didn't look up. He was bent over the screen check ing the data.
There was a faint smell of perfume. He looked around.
"Oh, hi, Shelley. This is going to be a good one. This is a unit I always wanted to meet. It's a bunch of Tolkien buffs. Know what that is? Why, they were people who loved a most interesting form of literature popular in the twentieth century. Say, Shelley… Shelley."
He turned around. Good lord, she was undressing right in front of him.
He tried to stammer a protest, but before he could form any words she had kicked aside the last of her cloth ing to reveal a tight teddy.
"Shelley, w-why don't we talk about 319?" Ian stam mered.
"Let's not, Dr. Lacklin," she said softly. And, reaching past him, she turned the machine off.
Ian thought about the flash they had seen just before jump out, and wondered if it had taken Smith.
But then Shelley managed to drive that thought away, as well. Suddenly he realized that exciting as the voyage had been so far, it was definitely going to get better.