Free Starbridge by A. C. Crispin

galley at the pale, tense faces surrounding them. "What we ought to do is just put on one of your films and let the bridge crew tell us whether anyone pops up to say
    'hi,' instead of sitting here sweating it out."
    "We could always go view one privately," Rob said, his voice pitched for her hearing alone. "Something romantic, maybe. You haven't seen Casablanca yet."
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    She smiled ruefully. "I probably couldn't concentrate ... on anything, including films. Could you?"
    "No," he admitted, truthfully.
    Desiree penetrated deeper into the alien solar system. The star finally began to look like a sun, and Joan reported an asteroid belt, much thinner than the one that lay between Mars and Jupiter. They passed one gas giant, a dark-ringed orange behemoth slightly larger than Saturn.
    At some point Rob dozed off, only to awaken an hour or so later with a stiff neck and back, his mouth dry and tasting of ancient coffee. Yoki was shaking his elbow. "Huhhh?"
    "Shhhh! Listen, Rob!"
    Jerry Greendeer's voice was saying: "... sure. It's located about one and a half A.U.'s out. Nearly twice the size of Earth, but the gravity is only about one and a half gee . . . fewer heavy elements, maybe. Four moons, little ones."
    Rob tried to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. "He found it?"
    "Yes." Yoki never took her eyes off the viewscreen. It showed only the sun, which now appeared nearly the size of Sol as seen from Earth.
    "Where is it?"
    "The sixth planet," Mahree said. "We've slowed down our approach. Uncle Raoul didn't want to barge in like we owned the place."
    "Good idea," Rob allowed. He stretched, yawned, then got up to get something to drink. By the time he came back, the planet was visible as a tiny, green-and-white disk.
    "We still receiving transmissions?" he asked Mahree.
    "I don't know."
    The disk grew larger. Rob leaned forward in his seat, his heart hammering, his mouth dry again. Glancing over at Mahree, he saw that she was chewing furiously on her lower lip. Yoki alone sat without betraying excitement, her dark eyes fixed intently on the viewscreen.
    "Hey," Jerry's voice reached them, "I'm getting something. Transmissions.
    They're not from the planet."
    "Then where are they coming from?"
    Nobody answered. Desiree continued to glide forward, slowing even more.
    Ahead of them the planet turned, and Rob thought he could make out the blue shimmer of water.
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    "Captain." Jerry's voice was flat, but something about it made the hairs at the back of Rob's neck stir. "I've found the source of the transmissions. They're ships, sir."
    "Holy shit, they sure are," Raoul muttered.
    Rob was on his feet by then, barely aware that Yoki had grabbed his hand, that her nails were digging into his palm. He gaped, frozen, at the small vessels drifting into visual range. Four, five . . . seven, no, eight.
    Desiree was surrounded.
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CHAPTER 5
The Face of the Unknown
    Dear Diary:
    I'm up in the control cabin, lounging in the copilot's seat and looking up at the central viewscreen. They're still there, the alien ships, all eight of them, shining amber against the blackness. They're shaped very differently than Desiree (which vaguely resembles a pregnant blimp).
    These craft are narrow and streamlined ... as though they could also navigate through atmosphere. Rob said they reminded him of an Earth predator called a hammerhead shark. On either side they have narrow, swept-back projections that don't really look like wings, but probably serve the same function. They're all the same golden orange color, with small black lines appearing amidships.
    It's been nearly an hour and a half since they moved into position surrounding Desiree, but that was the last move they made. They're just pacing us out there, about twenty kilometers away, waiting, waiting for ...
    who knows?
    Uncle Raoul is sitting down in the galley, drinking Simon's horrible coffee, and from his expression I'd say he's having second thoughts about this whole venture.
    When the