There is no sound in space. Sound is carried by atoms and molecules. With no molecules in the vacuum of space, there is no medium for the sound waves to travel through. At least the kind of sound waves the human ear can pick up. But the spacecraft is full of sound, and that sound is not just the voices of the crew members. Quietly, almost inaudibly, the instruments ‘sing’, the cabin doors rustle as they open and close, and the airlocks between the compartments make a hissing sound. Sometimes, these sounds can keep you awake, but sometimes, they help you wake up at the right time.

Since Flying School, James got used to sleep when he could find time, regardless of what was happening around him, and to wake up practically on time, a little early or a little late, but never more than five minutes. This skill has suddenly become very useful now. There was always something for everyone to do in this small craft with a small crew. Exactly like it was in the spacecraft of the early years of the space age. Constant shift changes left little spare time. James and Steve rotated every six hours on duty at the weapons control station, along with Major Jamison and Lieutenant Fournier, who shared the shuttle pilot duties. Steve’s attempts to get to know Ashley more closely had been unsuccessful. The girl made clear by her facial expressions and behaviour that she wanted nothing to do with him personally or the two Space Force pilots together.

On the second day of the flight, she even reprimanded Steve for addressing her by name. She demanded that he address her only by her rank. Quentin advised them to ignore the antics of Mademoiselle Mimosa, as he called her. James thought the young Lieutenant seemed to have suffered the same fate as Steve at one time. Major Jamison, however, was quite friendly with the Space Force representatives, unlike the Chief Flight Engineer, who persistently ignored them both. Once, on the sixth day of the flight, when James had to go to the engineering section, he had been reprimanded. Dr Bowman had said, in his usual grumpy way, that he should have announced the visit in advance and got permission from the Commanding Officer. James guessed it was payback for his and Steve’s behaviour on the first day.

The days went by one after the other, monotonous and boring. Six hours in front of the weapons station monitor, a short break for lunch or dinner, depending on the time on board, and a short nap. This time, he slept even less than usual, awakened neither by his peculiar internal alarm clock nor by the light streaming through the open door from the corridor into the cabin. His sleep was interrupted by a sharp scraping sound that came suddenly, seemingly overhead. He rose abruptly and banged his head on the top bunk. The scraping stopped as suddenly as it had started, and James could only hear the sound of an unzipping zip. His sleeping bag unzipped itself as he moved.

‘What the hell?’ he muttered.

‘I dunno,’ Lieutenant Fournier’s voice came to him from the opposite bunk. Obviously, the strange grinding noise awakened him too. Rubbing his bruised head, James unzipped his sleeping bag fully. He had forgotten that he had swapped places with Steve. In the pilot’s sleeping quarters on board the Endurance, he had taken the top bunk and Steve the bottom, so they had decided to swap places here.

‘Maybe it would be wise to hurry,’ he said. ‘Anyway, our shift time is coming up.’

‘Agreed,’ Quentin’s voice was heard, followed by the sound of the sleeping bag unzipping. ‘Something seems to have happened to the shuttle…’

Within a short time, James was in his flight suit and sprinting out into the corridor, where he ran into Oliver just a few steps away from the command section. It looked like he had also been in a hurry and had not seen James. The boy dropped his toolbox unexpectedly.

‘Watch where you’re going,’ he muttered. ‘What the hell, you’re rushing like a rhino!’

‘A rhino?’ James asked mechanically.

‘A rhino always runs forward,’ said Oliver, bending down to pick up a fallen toolbox. James chuckled.

‘It’d be odd if it always ran backwards,’ said he. ‘And what’s a rhino got to do with it, anyway?’

‘A rhino has very small eyes,’ said the boy suggestively, ‘so it can’t look around.’

‘Sorry, mate,’ said James, chuckled. ‘I don’t dig it. I’m just a soldier, as your boss, twice Doctor Bowman, once explained to me very popularly.’

‘Huh, what’s so complicated? It’s very simple –’ Oliver began but had no time to finish his thought. Major Jamison appeared directly above him.

‘What’s your head stuffed with?’ she muttered. ‘We’ve got a lot of problems, but you’re talking about a rhinoceros. Get the intercom to work again!’

‘Yes, sir, I’m working on it, sir…’ Oliver picked up his toolbox. ‘…Contact was broken in one of the circuits –’

The Major shot him a meaningful look. Squeezing between her and the corridor wall, Oliver headed to the command section.

‘What’s going on?’ James asked, forgetting the chain of command he and Steve tried to comply in the presence of these civilians. The Major shook her head.

‘I wish I’d known,’ she said sharply.

Oliver seemed to be rushing, not for nothing. The call signal, accompanied by an audible tone, lit up on the intercom panel near the transition airlock from the living section to the control section. The Major’s mood visibly improved; she activated the intercom. ‘Jamison.’

‘This is Bowman,’ came over the device. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I wouldn’t say so,’ replied the Major. ‘Can you tell me what it was?’

‘No, I can’t,’ came the reply. ‘Everything is normal on the instruments… I’m at a loss for a guess.’

‘Acknowledged…’ she took a deep breath. ‘We’ll look into it. If you have any insights, please let me know. Over and out.’ Without looking at James, she turned and slipped into the airlock. James followed her, along with Quentin, who had managed to get up and dressed in the time that had passed.

Oliver was waiting for them in the command section, his face beaming. Lieutenant Leverton was seated near the Engineering Systems Control Station. As usual, she ignored James and Quentin as they entered, following the shuttle commander.

‘Intercom’s working, sir,’ Oliver reported happily, still beaming and smiling. Major Jamison nodded.

‘I already understood. What’s not working?’ she asked, emphasising the word ‘not’. Oliver shrugged silently.

‘Life-support system is normal,’ Lieutenant Leverton spoke up. ‘Artificial gravity system –’

‘Not too hard to guess,’ the Major replied sarcastically, showing she was firmly on her feet. ‘Okay…’ she looked around, ‘Mr Fournier, take a good look with your fresh eyes.’

‘Yes, sir…’ The Lieutenant headed to the flight control station; James walked over to Steve, sitting near the weapons systems control station.

‘Hi! Any idea what it was?’ said he.

Steve responded grimly to his greeting and continued with a shrug, ‘If I’d known, I’d ’ve told. I haven’t seen anything, and the sensors detected nothing whatsoever. So, it couldn’t be an attack. All the systems are normal. One motion sensor is a bit buggy. But it was also out of order yesterday.’

‘Uh-huh,’ James confirmed. He had had a lot of trouble with that sensor during his last shift when it had given a lot of strange readings that could not be verified from any other source.

‘…Actually, it just looks like a fucking short circuit –’ Steve went on; a loud exclamation from Lieutenant Fournier cut him off.

‘What’s the matter, Lieutenant?’ Major Jamison reacted instantly. Quentin, leaning over the flight control station, turned to her and muttered something unintelligible.

‘Could you be more precise,’ Major Jamison said sharply.

‘Of course, I could be wrong, but it looks like…’ Quentin’s voice faltered slightly, ‘we’ve lost the long-range comms antenna.’

‘Huh! Long range comms antenna?’ Oliver exclaimed in surprise. Major Jamison paid no attention to him.

‘You could be wrong?’ she said questioningly, looking at Quentin. The Lieutenant shook his head negatively.

‘I’m afraid…’ he began slowly, ‘I’m not wrong. We’ve really lost the long-range antenna.’

Major Jamison waved her hand.

‘Just a glitch,’ she said in a slightly irritated tone. ‘Look closer.’

‘Quentin’s right,’ Lieutenant Leverton interjected, her voice faltering. ‘I don’t see the long-range comms system signal.’

‘You mean we won’t be able to contact the supply craft?’ the Major clarified.

‘We can contact the supply ship,’ the girl objected, ‘since we’re already within the range of the short-range comms system. I’m picking up their signal, but it’s quite weak. So, it’s not yet possible to set up an audio connection. But we won’t be able to contact the Endurance. No signal.’

The Major took a deep breath.

‘I see…’ she paused. ‘At least we’ve established what happened. Now I’d like to know why.’

Lieutenant Fournier and the girl looked at each other, but neither said anything. Quentin just shrugged.

‘…Okay –’ the Major paused again. ‘Let’s see what our artificial intelligence has to say. Computer, run a full diagnostic on the long-range comms… er… communications system,’ she corrected herself.

‘Running diagnostic,’ the now familiar monotonous female voice replied. Silence reigned in the command section, broken only by the barely audible ‘singing’ of instruments.

‘…Diagnostics complete. The long-range communication system is normal,’ the artificial intelligence reported. Major Jamison raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

‘Damn!’ she muttered. ‘Mr Fournier, are you sure?’

Quentin nodded in confirmation. ‘Absolutely, sir.’

‘Well…’ the Major clicked her fingers. ‘Computer, run a full diagnostic on the long-range antenna.’

This time, the pause was shorter. The artificial intelligence responded almost immediately,

‘Unable to comply.’

Major Jamison’s eyebrows went up, and a very puzzled expression appeared on her face.

‘What d’you mean, unable to comply?’ said she.

‘Your inquiry was not recognised,’ the artificial intelligence responded.

‘Why not?’ the Major’s face showed the full range of emotions. ‘Um… a reason?’

‘Your inquiry was not recognised,’ came the response. Major Jamison snorted annoyingly.

Quentin coughed slightly.

‘I think I understand what it might be…’ said he. ‘When I said we’d lost the antenna,’ he went

on, ‘I meant the antenna… disappeared…’

‘Disappeared?’ Emotions continued to rage across the Major’s face. ‘How could the antenna disappear?’

Oliver opened his mouth but uttered only a garbled sound and closed it again. The Lieutenant shrugged.

‘I don’t know, sir,’ said he. ‘I can only say we don’t have long-range antenna anymore… sir…’

Major Jamison squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and shook her head, which could mean a state of utter bewilderment.

‘You mean… antenna is physically missing?’ she said slowly.

Quentin nodded positively. ‘Confirm, sir. Antenna is physically missing.’

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‘What does that mean?’ The Major shook her head again. ‘Antenna can’t disappear on its own.

It’s… um… unrealistic…’

Quentin’s face took on such an expression that James thought he was about to reply with the computer’s last words. But he just shrugged again without saying anything. Suddenly, Steve nudged James lightly with his elbow.

‘Looks like the Space Force can bail out the Space Agency again,’ he muttered, looking at James and winking.

‘What d’you mean?’

‘Have you read the description of this thing?’ Steve nodded at the console. ‘We have mini drones equipped with cameras. They’re designed for long-range reconnaissance. But we can get them to circle around the shuttle, which gives us…’ He turned to Major Jamison, ‘uh… commander!’

‘Not at that speed,’ said James, remembering the wordy description of the Weapons System. ‘These drones can operate with a fighter, but not with a shuttle like this.’

A harsh word came out of Steve’s mouth.

‘Did you say something, astronaut?’ the Major asked.

‘False alarm, sir,’ James hurried to help his friend. ‘We thought about the mini drones that the Weapon System is equipped with. But those drones can’t be used at that speed –’ Suddenly, another thought came to him, and he was even surprised that no one else had thought of it. ‘But we could try external cameras,’ he went on. ‘Our cameras have quite a wide angle of rotation. Knowing the antenna location –’

‘Good idea,’ the Major rejoined. ‘Computer,’ she requested the artificial intelligence again, ‘display a diagram of the long-range communications system’s antenna layout on the main screen.’

The main viewscreen in front of the Flight Control Station dimmed for a second, and then a technical drawing of the shuttle appeared on it. The on-board artificial intelligence seemed to be drawing the image, adding more and more detail. James remembered Flight Lieutenant Turner, the fighter craft systems instructor at his Flying School. He liked to show drawings like this during the lessons.

‘Computer, three-dimensional image,’ Major Jamison ordered. ‘I’ve no understanding of this,’ she added.

‘Very simple…’ Oliver stepped forward. ‘Antenna is –’

The Major raised her hand as if to call for silence.

‘…I mean –’ the boy tried to continue.

‘Shut up, Oliver!’ the Major cut him off sharply. Young Specialist 2nd Class mumbled something unintelligible in an offended tone while the Major studied the new image on the viewscreen.

‘Well, well… that’s better,’ she murmured softly. ‘This is what I understand…’

The artificial intelligence finished its work, showing the shuttle’s three-dimensional image in every detail, including the easily identifiable long-range communications antenna. Steve nudged James lightly with his elbow.

‘Huh, look at that,’ he said in a whisper. His fingers slid over the control panel, activating the weapon system’s tracking eye. A moment later, an external image of part of the shuttlecraft’s hull appeared on the viewscreen, right where the antenna should have been. With one exception: there was no sign of the antenna. They exchanged glances.

‘Commander… sir,’ Steve called. ‘We found it.’

‘Have you found what we lost?’ the Major responded immediately.

‘No, sir, we found where it ought to be,’ said James. ‘But it’s not there anymore. And this is not a glitch.’

He heard distinct footsteps behind him. A moment later, Major Jamison was standing near the weapons system station. Leaning forward, she stared at the screen for a while, muttering something unintelligible, then straightened and looked around the command section.

‘Can… anyone… explain… to me… how… this is… possible?’ she said, separating each word from the others.

No one answered her question. There was an almost deafening silence in the command section, broken only by the barely audible ‘singing’ of the instruments.

‘I cannot,’ Quentin’s voice came after a long pause.

‘Me too,’ the girl murmured. Oliver remained silent now. The Major took a deep breath.

‘Computer, where is the long-range comms system ante –’ she began but stopped.

‘Your inquiry was not recognised,’ the artificial intellect responded. The Major nodded, then walked back to the commander’s chair and slapped her hand on the intercom panel on the armrest. ‘Control to Engineering!’

‘Bowman,’ the Flight Engineer’s voice came over the speaker.

‘Phil, I need you here,’ the Major said.

‘Just a moment, but you should send someone to watch the instruments.’

Oliver held up his hand and smiled broadly; the Major shook her head negatively.

‘Not necessary,’ said she. ‘Ashley, are you taking readings on the key parameters of the reactor and propulsion system?’

The girl nodded in confirmation.

‘…Alright. Phil, you can come out of your burrow for a while. I need your brains.’

‘I’m on my way,’ the Flight Engineer’s voice came at once.

Such a mysterious disappearance of the long-range communications antenna defied any reasonable explanation. James studied the viewscreen once more. It was impossible to make a mistake. The external camera pointed directly at the part of the shuttle hull where the schematic showed the antenna. But there was nothing where the antenna should have been.

Everyone seemed to have the same thoughts. Major Jamison, taking the commander’s chair again, drummed her fingers on the armrest. Quentin, standing behind Steve, swivelled his head, flicking his eyes from the weapon control station screen to the main screen, where a three-dimensional image of the shuttle was still rotating and back again. Oliver, sitting on the deck near the Engineering station, studied his tablet.

‘Phil, we have a problem,’ Major Jamison spoke up. Turning to the entrance hatch, James saw the Flight Engineer enter the command section.

‘I’ve got it,’ he said. ‘Can you show it to me on the viewscreen?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ the Major said with a hint of annoyance in her voice. ‘As far as I understand, the weapon system’s external cameras are not linked to our external viewing system. Guys can show you.’

The Flight Engineer came closer to the weapons systems station. Steve got up from his chair without saying a word, giving him the place.

‘You can enlarge the picture, sir,’ he pointed to the control panel, ‘but it seems this is the maximum…’

The Flight Engineer had taken Steve’s place and began to examine the viewscreen with great care for some time.

‘Are you saying we’ve lost the long-range communications system antenna?’ he began after about a minute and a half. ‘I confirm. We’ve lost the long-range communications system antenna.’

‘Phil, can you do without your specific jokes?’ Major Jamison responded sharply.

‘I haven’t even thought of joking,’ said the Flight Engineer. ‘I’m just stating a fact. If you want to ask me how that’s possible, I have the only answer: I don’t know.’

‘Maybe… a micrometeorite –’ Quentin began; the Flight Engineer shook his head negatively.

‘A micrometeorite could have damaged the antenna, that’s true,’ he said. ‘However, in that case, we would see the damaged antenna, or part of it, depending on the extent of the damage. But we haven’t seen the antenna at all. It looks like... it has been… completely separated from the hull, which a micrometeorite or any other outside influence could never do.’

‘What about internal influence?’ muttered the Major. The Flight Engineer shook his head negatively again.

‘That’s definitely a joke. It’s even more impossible to separate the antenna from the inside.’

Silence fell again in the command section.

‘Okay,’ said Major Jamison after a long pause. ‘Can you tell me –’

‘As I said, I don’t know,’ the Flight Engineer interrupted her.

‘I mean, can you make any assumptions?’

The Flight Engineer took a deep breath.

‘Before making any assumptions,’ he began, ‘I need to examine the antenna mounting unit. The problem is, at impulse speed, a spacewalk is impossible. Otherwise, these are not assumptions, just guesses. But I’m an engineer, not a guesser.’

Suddenly, James thought he saw something that looked like melted metal right where the antenna should have been. He reached for the control panel and twisted the camera settings, but Steve was right, there was no way to zoom in. Nevertheless, he was no longer in doubt.

‘Sir, antenna seems to have been… cut off by some sorta… plasma torch or something like that,’ he said, turning to the Flight Engineer. ‘I cannot tell you how that’s possible, I don’t know. Just if you look carefully, maybe…’

The Flight Engineer reacted without any question. He leaned forward and stared intently at the viewscreen for a while.

‘You’re quite sharp-eyed, Mr… uh –’ he turned his eyes to James.

‘Jenkins,’ James said, feeling himself smiling involuntarily.

‘Yes, Jenkins… and it looks like you’re right. Unfortunately, we can’t verify that… at the moment…’

‘And if you ask me, sir,’ James went on, thinking he knew what the Flight Engineer wanted to ask him, ‘I’m pretty sure it couldn’t have been an enemy attack. The enemy would likely have destroyed the shuttle. Destroying only long-range communications antenna is… um… illogical… I mean, it doesn’t make sense. On the other hand, our sensors are sensitive enough to detect the enemy’s approach. But the sensors detected nothing.’

The Flight Engineer looked at him thoughtfully and nodded in agreement.

‘I’m ready to agree with you, Mr Jenkins,’ he said. ‘The enemy… if these enemies… well, it doesn’t matter; it would be illogical, of course. The problem is that there is no plasma torch or something like that on board.’

‘There is a powerful plasma cutter on board,’ Major Jamison said suddenly. ‘It’s mounted on the starboard manipulator arm. We specifically asked for such equipment to be installed –’ she did not finish; the Flight Engineer nodded in agreement.

‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘I’m recalling.’

‘So –’ the Major did not finish again and raised her head. ‘Computer, report the starboard manipulator usage within the last twenty-four hours.’

‘Starboard manipulator not used during the reported period,’ the shuttle’s artificial intelligence responded.

‘Re-check the period since launch.’

‘Starboard manipulator not used during the reported period,’ the shuttle’s artificial intelligence repeated.

‘It was the last straw that broke a camel’s back,’ the woman muttered.

‘Of course, we can look at the computer’s log,’ the Flight Engineer spoke again. ‘But I’m afraid the log would tell us nothing. The computer gets its information from the same source. Let’s hope our super-intelligent assistant hasn’t gone mad.’

‘Is that possible?’ the Major looked questioningly at her interlocutor.

‘Similar cases have been described in science fiction,’ Dr Bowman replied. ‘But in reality, nothing like that has been recorded in the last hundred years. At least, I know nothing about it.’

Major Jamison hummed. ‘How about earlier?’ she muttered.

‘AI didn’t exist at that time,’ Oliver interjected. The Major looked at him gloomily.

‘Thank you, Mr Stubbs,’ she said in an icy tone.

With a sour face, Oliver looked down at his tablet again and suddenly let out a loud yell that caused everyone to flinch, but he waved his hand.

‘Sorry, I thought…’ he mumbled, ‘but I was wrong.’

‘No doubt,’ Major Jamison said sarcastically. ‘And could you express your emotions less emotionally, please? My head is already pounding.’ She glanced around at her small crew and continued, ‘Have you all any more ideas?’

For a while, everyone was silent. James could only hear the faint sounds of the instruments.

‘The only thing I can suggest is a detailed inspection of the antenna mounting unit,’ the Flight Engineer said after a pause. ‘The problem is that we can only do that once we have arrived at our destination. If I understand right, the supply craft is currently in orbit around –’

Major Jamison nodded in confirmation.

‘You understand right,’ she said. ‘They were to enter orbit around that object and wait for our arrival.’

The Flight Engineer smiled faintly for the first time during the entire conversation.

‘So, we have no choice but to wait,’ said he.

‘Agreed,’ the Major nodded. ‘And… if there are no other ideas…’ she looked at all the crew again, ‘shift Alpha can rest, shift Beta, take your duty stations. Phil…’ she looked at the Flight Engineer. ‘I’d like to exchange a few words with you…’ Then she looked back at her subordinates. ‘Any unusual… phenomena, shall we say, should be reported to me immediately…’

… It was a long shift. Sometimes, James thought it was his longest shift of the whole flight. He stared at the weapons system screen, which showed no change, but his mind was preoccupied with the incident. What had happened seemed completely inexplicable. Especially if the more experienced Flight Engineer Bowman and Major Jamison could not figure it out. Finally, he tried to put these thoughts out of his mind. Only the simple curiosity never left him, mixing with the anxious feeling that kept rising somewhere inside him.

Wanting to distract himself, he took out his communicator, which could now only be used to store books he had no time to read and music he had no time to listen to. Having found his favourite album, which he had collected long before entering the Flying School, he plugged in the headphones, leaned back in his chair, and now only glanced at the viewscreen and sensors periodically.

‘Excuse me… could you help me…’ voice came to him. He awoke. ‘Have I accidentally fallen asleep?’ flashed through his mind. He turned around. Lieutenant Leverton was standing beside his chair with a tablet in her hands. ‘I wanna say,’ the girl began, ‘may I… Mr… um…’

‘Jenkins,’ he went on mechanically after her, ‘but better just James, Lieutenant.’

‘Ashley,’ she said, smiling. ‘Am I disturbing you? Sorry.’

‘Not at all…’ he waved his hand. ‘You’ve a question?’

‘Yep,’ she showed him her tablet. ‘Major Jamison asked me to calculate the distance to the destination, but I’m a total space novice…’

He smiled. The girl’s pretty face was now close to him, and he thought she looked so beautiful.

‘You’re an astronaut,’ said he, still looking at her.

‘Just formally,’ she replied, embarrassed. ‘Actually, I’m an engineer… I mean, I studied space engineering at uni… I was, how to say… mobilised because –’

Suddenly, he felt his cheeks burning.

‘So, what kinda problem?’ he said, trying to hide his embarrassment. ‘You’re good with computers, I guess. There is a very simple programme for calculating the flight path. You should enter our current position, given our current speed and the coordinates of the rendezvous point with the supply craft… well, or the planetoid in whose orbit the craft is awaiting us.’

‘Oh dear!’ she exclaimed with an embarrassed grin and looked away. ‘I’m so stupid. Of course, there should be a programme. Thanks so much! I even know where to look. I mean the on-board computer… It’s so simple, and I’m distracting you with a question like that… Sorry…’

‘No problem,’ he murmured, smiling embarrassedly and trying to hide his eyes.

There was silence between them for a while.

‘Are you… listening to something?’ she asked suddenly after a pause. What she had in mind was not even immediately clear to James.

‘Um… just music,’ he responded.

‘Do you like music?’ She smiled very warmly; James saw sparks in her eyes.

‘Well…’ he chuckled, still embarrassed, ‘I’m not much of a melomaniac. I just…’

‘What ’ve you been listening to?’

He found himself smiling, too, and without knowing why, he handed her the earpiece.

‘Not a well-known band,’ said he. ‘They play something like folk rock…’

She took the earpiece. James pulled the communicator towards him and turned up the volume a little. A smile appeared on her face as she listened, shaking her head slightly in time to the melody.

‘What a lovely song,’ she said, smiling, and her smile seemed to James to be the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. ‘I don’t understand the words, but I like it. What’s the song about?’

‘Well… a sailor boy met a girl and fell in love, but then she died and now he is alone and sad amid the dark shades of the lonely ash grove.’

Ashley frowned

‘It’s a sorrowful story,’ she said. James did not immediately understand what changed her mood so suddenly.

‘Well… maybe…’ he muttered.

‘I don’t like stories like that,’ she said, sounding like an offended child.

‘C’mon,’ he smiled. ‘It’s just a song, a reworked version of an old Welsh ballad. I like it…’

‘Sorry,’ she handed him the earpiece, turned away, and walked back to her station, saying nothing more.

James remained seated in his chair, turning a little away from the control panel and staring into the nearest bulkhead. The girl’s behaviour puzzled him even more. During the whole ten days, and until now, she seemed not to have noticed him at all, she suddenly decided to talk to him for a completely insignificant reason – he even wondered if she made up her question just to have an excuse to talk to him, but then abandoned this idea – and suddenly she cut just beginning talk because of a song…

These thoughts swirled around in his head, pushing the mystery of the antenna and everything else that had happened that day into the background. He tried to distract himself by concentrating on his official duties, peering at the viewscreen until his eyes hurt, checking the sensor readings from time to time, which, as usual, showed nothing. It only helped until he saw her ponytail flashing behind him again. Steve was more helpful when he showed up six hours later. Handing over the shift, as per Space Force protocol, completely distracted him, and it was only after leaving the command section that he realised how tired he was.

He fell asleep as soon as he lay down on his bunk but seemed to have slept only a short time when he was awakened by the loud sound of a buzzer and soon Major Jamison’s voice over the intercom.

‘All hands, prepare to enter deceleration mode. The countdown is running, twenty minutes to go…’

That meant the crew should take special seats. The deceleration mode, as well as the acceleration mode, was accompanied by overloads. James got up and began to dress quickly.