Chapter 2

	She sat waiting for a response from the absolutely tiny ship the distress call had originated from.  Tiny was one adjective to describe it.  Microscopic was probably a better fit.  How were three people LIVING in there?  Her washroom was larger!  It didn't look aerodynamic, so it was obviously not built for orbital landing.  The design was a complete mess that made her gain new appreciation for the used money pit she was sitting in the pilot's seat of.  One bank of engines on one end, another bank on the other end along with the flimsiest looking landing struts she had ever seen in her life.  She highly doubted the landing struts could support the full weight of the craft, much less the weight of a single person.  It looked like two cans stuck together length-wise with a small tube between them.
	The panel missing from the tube without the landing struts, and the burn marks around it, was most likely the cause of the issues they were having.  Outer hull damage, always a terrifying thing.  All it took was some piece of space junk to fly into the flaw while you were attempting repairs, and suddenly you had hull breach.  These people had to be nearly insane to be flying around in something so small and fragile.  No, probably just bound by corp contract.  And any corp would be looking to cut costs.  She could definitely see the corps shoving three employees into a small box to save on expenses.  Judging by the lack of support craft, they were cutting every corner they could.
	Her heart went out to the poor gits, along with a growing feeling of worry over their lack of response.  Why wouldn't they respond to a assist hail?  Unless, she was already too late?
	"Aquarius, Houston."
	"Go ahead Houston."
	Shit, maybe they didn't get her message?  But then why that long period of dead air after she messaged them?  They were in constant communication with Houston during the two hour flight here, so what gives?
	"We thought we heard something over comms, can you confirm?"
	She pulled up the transmitter settings, she was almost sure she had set them right.
	"Uh Houston, should we turn on the fan?"
	"That's a yes on the fan Aquarius."
	Suddenly all she could hear was distortion.  She understood what was happening, but she couldn't believe this.  This corp was so uptight about security and privacy they weren't even going to allow a distressed crew to receive assistance?  This was beyond outrageous, this went beyond criminal, this was monstrous.  Not even pirates were this cold blooded!  Just as she was thinking about how she was going to get back to civilization to get the authorities involved, she got another transmission.
	"Apollo 13 here, please repeat unknown caller."
	Either the corp had relented, or they were breaking ranks to seek help.  Either way, she was going to help.
	"I say again Apollo 13, this is the Ditas, help is here.  I don't know what kind of experimental can you are flying there, but it'll fit in my cargo bay easy enough.  You'll probably have to suit up in case you end up cracking against the hull.  I can pressurize the bay pretty quickly if you folks are willing to take the risk."
	The distortion was back.  She was starting to guess she was never supposed to know of the existence of "Houston", and now all communications between the crew and their handler were being encrypted.  Dealing with corporations was always a pain in the neck.  When they were obeying the law, they wouldn't stop trying to sell you anything.  And when they were breaking the law, they wouldn't stop spying on and intimidating anyone they suspected of knowing too much.  She scratched at the dry fur on her arms, wondering how much pleading Jim, Jack, and Fred were having to do to convince Houston to let them be rescued.  The absolute sleaziness of corps is why she went the independent route to begin with.  After what seemed like forever, they finally responded.
	"Ditas, what's your position?"
	A moment of brief confusion, then she remembered their electronics were glitched out.  Of course their sensors wouldn't have picked her up, otherwise they would have hailed her first and a lot sooner.
	"Look out your window."
	She could see the faintest hint of gold moving around in the windows of the craft, then heard distortion over the air again.  Dead silence for a short while, then more distortion.  Finally, they let her listen again.
	"Affirm on that Ditas, we would appreciate the assistance.  Everyone here is suited."
	Well, first hurdle passed.  Now she just needed the corp to direct her back home once she rescued the crew.
	"Alright Apollo 13, make sure your seals are good, and strap yourselves down.  This could get a bit bumpy."
	Despite the warning, she resolved to bring the ship in like she was handling an egg.  If she was too rough she would probably end up smashing the small craft to pieces against the internal hull of the cargo bay.  It looked pretty damn fragile, she didn't want to find out just how fragile it was.  She wasn't too worried about being able to pull it off, fine maneuvering in space was mostly the same regardless of what size ship you flew.  In practice, careful movements with a mining craft was almost the exact same as careful movements with a speeder or sports rocket, you just had a larger chunk of metal to move around.  The important thing to remember was to not try and fly like you were in space when you were in atmosphere.  Attempting to pitch 90 degrees on your yaw axis while traveling at three times the speed of sound in atmosphere was always a fatal mistake.
	She had the computer seal the cargo bay's internal door, and open the external doors, telling it to ignore the warning about the air being lost.  She had plenty to spare and could easily crack more from water, no great loss.  Some careful calculations from the navigation controller later, and she had rolled her ship into just the right angle.  Then came the hard part.  Movement in space was unintuitive.  If you thought you used enough thrust, you used way too much.  If you barely did anything, you probably did too much.  You eventually learned the delicate and precise movements needed to get the movement out of your ship that you wanted, but precision maneuvers were always tricky business.  Even for experienced pilots like Muli.
	The barest tap of the controls started the Ditas moving towards Apollo 13, or Aquarius, or Odyssey, or however other many names they seemed to have for the little deathtrap.  As the little ship passed through the exterior doors of the cargo bay, the three names suddenly made sense.  Codenames for Jim, Jack, and Fred.  She probably wasn't supposed to know those names, they had most likely slipped out in the panic.  Switching to interior view of the cargo bay on two monitors, she made a mental note to only refer to her guests by their codenames.  Better they don't know she knew real names.  Better their corp doesn't know she knew.  Better for her health.
	With the tiny ship now entirely inside of her cargo bay, she had the restraint straps reach out and pull the craft to the floor, and secure it in place while the exterior doors closed.  She gave one last hail to the crew while giving the computer the command to re-pressurize the cargo bay and seal the external doors.
	"And you're in folks.  Shouldn't take more than a few minutes to pressurize, I'll meet you there shortly."
	She didn't bother waiting for a reply, she wanted to be ready with medical gear the moment they came out of that joke of a spacecraft.  She came out of the command deck, and took off for her medical center on the lower deck near the cargo bay, stuck squarely in between two storage bays.  As far as she was concerned, that was the best place for it, since around there was where most of her injuries happened.  Had the med center been on the upper deck when her arm got injured, she probably would have died.  On arrival she grabbed her pre-assembled standard rescue kit, and began rummaging around for anything she thought the crew might need.  She had plasma, air masks, bandages, pain killers, a defibrillation unit, anti-virals, anti-bacterials, anti-fungals, and all the usual tools and equipment.  She went back to the hallway and up the ladder to the kitchen/dining area, and grabbed some drinks and light food.  No telling what they had been through out there.  She dropped back through the ladder shaft, shoved the drinks and food into the kitbag, and headed for the cargo bay.
	She arrived just in time as the readout above the interior cargo bay door told her the room was pressurized again.  She hit the radio toggle on the console next to the door.
	"If you're still alive in there Apollo 13, congratulations, you made it.  It's safe to come out now."
	Time to meet and greet.  She still had no idea how she was going to explain her presence here.  Or how she had gotten so very lost.  She unsealed the door, and pushed it open, seeing three white-suited figures with gold-tinted visors on their helmets.  All three were looking in her direction, but they made no movement towards her.  She climbed through the cargo bay door, hauling the kitbag through with her.  Had shock set in?  Medical training would have been useful right about now.
	"Is anyone hurt?"
	A few seconds hesitation, than one spoke.  She couldn't tell which one, they still weren't moving and she couldn't see their faces behind the visors.
	"No, we're fine."
	The voice sounded tense, possibly unhappy?  She recognized it as Apollo 13/Aquarius.  Again, that unusual deepness.  What was with this response?  Normally people were a bit more overjoyed at a rescue.  Between this and the long pauses in communications with her, she was starting to get the feeling something was terribly wrong here.
	"I see.  Is anyone dehydrated or malnourished?  I have food and water here."
	Again hesitation, did they think she poisoned it?
	"No, we are alright."
	Different voice, different speaker.  This was Odyssey wasn't it?  What was going on here?
	"I have pain killers here if anyone needs them."
	"No, thank you."
	They were obviously tense about something.  Worried about letting something slip?  She made another mental note to not mention Houston for any reason.  These three practically had claws out with their tension.  She felt like asking the wrong question would be deadly, and she wasn't completely sure what that wrong question was.
	"Well, if anyone needs a place to rest, I have an unused room they could use."
	"We're fine, thank you."
	This was getting too damned weird.  They had barely moved a muscle since she came in, not even to find a place to sit down after their ordeal.  What orders could they possibly be under to explain this behavior?  And why hadn't they taken off their helmets yet?  It was somewhat disturbing having a conversation with an expressionless mirror.
	"Uh, mind taking the helmets off folks?  This conversation is starting to creep me out, I'm not used to trying to talk to people I'm standing in front of but can't see."
	That got a reaction.  They all started looking at each other.  They probably thought she wanted faces to give to the authorities.  She was about ready to take off running for the door when they reached up to remove their helmets.  She inwardly rolled her eyes at her own reaction.  Why did she always assume the worst was going to happen at any given moment?  "Due to experience" always felt like such a lame excuse.
	They didn't remove their helmets, they just slid up the gold colored visors.  She could finally see her guests, and  Muli didn't know what they were, but she knew they were not Nemesian.  Every thought in her head screeched to a stop, since the world had decided to stop making sense.  She attempted to say something, and it's possible she thought she was saying something, but all that came out was an odd noise.
	"Eeeuuuhhhhhaaaa?"