Clinging to the rock like a barnacle, the last refuge of a weary traveller before the inky blackness of the stellar void. The jewelled towers, like crystals of amethyst, stood precariously on the lip of oblivion. Glittering in the starlight, the reflection from their faceted sides stood as a beacon to those who would leave for the distant uncertainty beyond.

Swarming around like bees at a flower, a multitude of motes in the blackness, its servants, dwellers and sustainers busied themselves with their duties â€" flitting from place to place like flies, arriving and alighting apon the highest of the amethyst towers.

- - -

The plasma engines slowly ticking over, Jak leaped deftly from his gantry and down to the helm. Reed looked at him for a moment, then turned back to the console.

“They working now?” he asked.

“Yep. I just had to give it some fresh coolant,” he said breathlessly, “how far from the port are we now? It can’t be too far yet.”

“Just a few minutes yet, then we can get off this rust bucket.”

“Nah, she’s been okay.”

Reed sighed. The voyage had been a long one - and with only Jak for company, a lonely one too. But that was all behind them now. Once they dropped off this final shipment, they could stay at his mother’s house for the rest of the year â€" no more long space voyages for them.

The Atlas, a class C cargo freighter, had spent over nine months travelling from the spaceport at Mars out to the far-flung outer reaches of the solar system. She was on one of the more unusual missions, coming out this far. She was carrying some supplies for the first of the Interstellar ships, built for mankind’s first tentative steps outside his own solar system. A small crew was to travel to Alpha Centauri, the closest star to Sol, and set up a base there.

Jak and Reed, the pilots of the Atlas, were being kept in the dark as to what the sealed airtight containers contained. They were even given a Government escort ship â€" obviously the locked crates held something very precious. But they were being paid well, and that was all they cared about.

The communicator crackled into life. Apart from the reports to the escort, this was the first time the ageing radio had been used. “Atlas, come in Atlas this is Alpha base, do you read?”

“Readin’ ya loud and clear, Alpha base,” Reed said nonchalantly, slumped in his faded chair.

“What is your status, repeat, what is your status, Atlas?”

“We’re fine thanks.” Reed was surprised. Spaceport controllers never usually showed signs of caring about a mere trader. Must be something to do with this cargo, he thought.

“Okay, Atlas, switch to base control. We’ll bring you in from here.”

“Switching now, Alpha base,” again, Reed was surprised. Base controlled landings were normally reserved for Government ships.

He flicked a red switch on the console above his head. He leaned back in his head and shouted to Jak. “Hey, Jak! Take it easy! They’re bringing her in for us!”

Jak bounded over to the rail. “Say what? I thought they only did that for Government ships.”

“Yeah, well, looks like this cargo run has its privileges.”

The two of them lounged back in the faded chairs on the bridge. Jak kicked his feet up on the panel, and Reed raised the flash screen so they could watch the landing. The spaceport loomed in front of them, light shining off the mirror-like sides. The great maw of the landing bay opened slowly, like a giant about to swallow the ship. The Atlas’s thrusters fired and aligned the ship with the mouth. Then, smoothly but ponderously, the ship manoeuvred its way into the bay.