Ten million miles beyond Mars, en route to the Red Planet from the Asteroid Belt, a space ship, glinting a little from the weak light of the distant Sun, hung poised against the star-shot night of space. A tiny thing, squat, the stern studded with wide-mouthed venturis, it seemed lifeless and dead, only the starlight winking from its rotating hull betraying the presence of life.
Lars Menson lay in his bunk and stared disgustedly at the smooth metal above his head. Opposite him, seeming to hang from the other side of the compartment like a fly, Jarl Wendis yawned and eased himself into a more comfortable position.
“What’s the time, Lars?”
Menson grunted as he twisted and stared at the control panel.
“Twenty hours fifteen minutes and seven seconds. Standard time of course. The month is N
