Lost and Found

The hyperspace tunnel collapsed. Streakes of starlight spun and filled the forward viewport in a dizzying display while my stomach turned over in response to the ships uncontrolled tumble back into real space. Warning buzzers and alarms and red blinking indicators sounded all around me, vying for my attention as I struggled to get my bearings and take a positional reading. It took only a few seconds to realize I was utterly and completely lost.

"What do you MEAN, position unknown??" I exclaimed after I managed to halt the multi-axis spin of the VX-2109 utility transport vehicle and established a relatively steady position in space so the navcomputer could do its work. I gave the sealed box housing the unit a frustrated kick and re-triggered the locationfinding algorithm. It sputtered in protest, and re-executed a scan of the visible stars in multiple spectrums in order to triangulate position, but the result was unchanged: Position Unknown.

There were two possibilities, and neither one struck me as a workable problem. First, there could be some equipment issue with the navcomputer. Bad sensors, corrupted data in the memory banks, or other such technical issue could make the navcomputer unusable until it was overhauled. The other possibility was that I was so far removed from anywhere that the computer was able to use as a point of reference that it was unable to perform any meaningful calculation to tell me how far I was from any known celestial object and in which direction. I was not happy about either option.

There were a few other issues working against me as well. It didn't help that I had stolen the ship I was currently sitting in while it drifted through unknown sector of space. I was in a bit of a hurry when I was hauling ass across the flight deck of Starbase 32 and I didn't have time to be choosy. The crew access door was open and the internal lights were on so I made a snap decision. There was no time to give the old girl a proper once-over or check for green lights across the status board before the local constables would catch up to me, drag me out of the pilot seat, and lock me up for a millennia or two after they had worked me over pretty good as repayment for my crimes against the state, notably the chief administrator of the station whom I had taken the liberty of robbing while she was overseeing a ribbon-cutting ceremony a few hours before. So, I fired her up and made an unscheduled and unsanctioned exit from the docking bay, taking more than a few bumps along the way.

It also didn't help that the ship was basically a garbage hauler. VX-2109 utility transports were cheap to operate, and could accommodate a fairly large amount of cargo for its size and engine power, but had very low powered shields and practically no armor, so they were trusted for only very low value, high-capacity runs: in other words, trash. True to form, the back of this ship was relatively full of several tons of useless looking items and construction materials. Plastics of every size and shape, bits of common metals that were not worth melting down, and various discarded consumer goods filled the hold. The ship itself was in terrible condition even before my grand escape, and I suspected strongly that mandatory maintenance activities for the old bird had not been carried out in quite some time. There was a smell that I couldn't quite place... Or maybe my subconscious was protecting me by preventing me from recalling the substance that generated such an unpleasant aroma.

As it was, I had little choice but to orient towards the nearest start which, according to sensors lay over a lightyear away, and start rooting around for a manual for the navcomp to figure out how to trigger a diagnostics subroutine. I could practically hear my first flight instructor's voice in the back of my head as I struggled to formulate a plan to escape from my current predicament.

"Never trigger a hyperspace jump without knowing where you are going," he would say. "If you're lucky and you don't pop out so close to a star, black hole, or other nasty thing that will irradiate, melt, or rip your ship apart through gravitational forces, then you could end up who knows where and you might not ever find your way back, especially not before you run out of sandwiches on board."

Naturally, that is exactly what I did as I was making my escape from Starbase 32. Security forces were not going to be kind enough to allow me a few minutes to casually pick out a nice vacation destination to zip off to while they hunted me down in high performance law enforcement fighter craft, which was quite rude but understandable. Not to mention, my garbage scow was not fitted with a top of the line jump drive. It was crap, really. So I rolled the dice and took my chances.

I located the manual for the navcomputer and looked up the sequence to kick off a diagnostic, which I did. I was pleansantly surprised when it actually worked and began the slow process of checking every bit of circuitry, sensor, and computing component in the system. While I waited for it to finish, I scanned the communication channels for any traffic that might indicate that I wasn't the only living thing in a light year. The comms equipment was only in marginally usable condition, so it was hard to know how strong a signal I was sending out or how well I was receiving. All the same, I tried, broadcasting across all the known bands used for open communication and traffic control.

"Hello, out there. Anyone got their ears on? This is Imperial freighter *Good News* on a mission of peaceful diplomacy. Please respond..."

I set the message to repeat continuously every few minutes and as an afterthought, I triggered the emergency beacon. If there were any friendly or even hostile forces in the viscinity, they would see the beacon if their signal folks were paying the slightest bit of attention.

With nothing left to do in the short term, I decided to rummage for a snack, and climbed out of the pilot seat to go searching for something to eat or drink to help pass the time. Climbing around and over debris and various equipment and clothing left behind by the previous pilot, I managed to locate a refrigeration unit which contained some especially unappetizing-looking food cubes and some syrupy looking liquid that was probably intended to provide minerals and vitamins and slow-burn energy in addition to hydration.

As I was pulling the food packs out to eat, a crash of metal and plastic and junk came from the hold, making me jump and drop my food on the deck plate. Realizing that I didn't have a proper weapon to defend myself with, I grabbed a large plastic container and held it over my head as I slowly approached the hold area.

"Show yourself! I'm heavily armed and I'm not afraid to use this thing!" I bellowed, trying not to soil myself.

The door to the cargo hold slid open and I braced myself for a fight, only to find the small face of a young boy looking up at me, covered in grime and dirt.

"Are you gonna hit me with that first aid kit, mister? I really wish you wouldn't.."

I looked him over in surprise, trying to work out where this kid came from while maintaining control of the situation. Lowering my deadly first aid kit club, I shrugged.

"Don't worry, kid. I'm not gonna brain you. But we have some things to talk about."