INTERSTELLAR SPACE—LONE SURVIVING ASTERIAN STARSHIPHis starship stopped—day two, hour thirteen, minute fifty-nine, seconds thirty-one of his escape from Sol to Aster.
With artificial gravity gone as well, Prozell Squzon floated before his drive console, his twelve fingers splayed over the controls. He did a quick calculation. He was still seventy-nine lightyears and change from Aster.
“A bit far to walk,” he muttered, rotating his ears back to better hear a scraping sound coming from the airlock.
Squzon activated the airlock monitor, but it was dead, the screen blank. The inner lock hatch opened with a rush of cold air. Before he could react, a spacesuited figure disabled him with some kind of Electro-Muscular-Disruption stun weapon.