PART 4

The bonsai garden was quite beautiful. Twisting, gnarled wood topped by bushy green needles. The garden was enhanced by tiny flowers and an or nate red footbridge crossing a small pond. It had taken Yoshinoku Tashina seven years to perfect the diminutive paradise, and even now he spent at least an hour a day just on maintenance. He considered it a small price to pay to preserve his sense of tranquillity .
    At the same time, his mate Toriko Akira, 13 years his senior but not looking her age at all, rummaged restlessly through her clothes closet.
    "What should I wear tonight?" she asked in her native Nipponese.
    "I think your blue dress might be nice." he replied in their shared language.
    Toriko started to take out her blue dress, but instead she chose a blue, ornately decorated silk kimono wrapped in protective plastic.
She stared at it for several long moments before Yoshi looked up and saw the haunted look on her face.
    "What's wrong?" He put down his miniature gardening tools and went over to her.
    Toriko sighed, still staring at the dress. "I bought this in Nagasaki."
    She looked up at Yoshi with her frank black eyes. "It sometimes reminds me of the horrors we are capable of causing as a race. It's no wonder we're so despised."
    "You make it sound as if we're all monsters."
    Toriko put the dress back into the closet, unsure of how to reply. She knew that her cynical moods, no matter how brief, cut a little into Yoshi's usually resilient optimism -- one of the things that had kept her going, especially when things seemed impossibly bleak. Those past moments would seem insignificant compared to today's events. The intrusive blee-boop of the ComMod heralded their coming to light.

After filling in Toriko and Yoshi, Jackie's expression became contemptuous as he snidely blurted, "Well, I suppose we'd better call the stonies in, eh?"
    "I fail to see the difference between what they do and your drinking," Ivan remarked coldly.
    "Yeah, you wouldn't. Let's see if we can find them. It shouldn't be too difficult."

Inside one of two large hydrogardens, the main crops were rice and soybeans. A large variety of fruits and vegetables, ranging from tomatoes to kiwifruit accommodated most of the crew's appetites, supplemented by more traditional rations such as wheat and corn.
    Another popular crop in the hydrogardens was marijuana. One patch in particular, an especially potent variety from Hawaii, was carefully tended by Lee Pei and David Giordano.
    David, who was 34 years old with medium-length black, curly hair, was wearing green army cut-offs and a t-shirt that had a faded caricature of a noisy band of drunken cats shouting, "Grascia Adio, sono l'taliano!" on it. He trimmed off a large, juicy bud using a pair of stainless steel scissors then inhaled its scent deeply.
    "Ahhhh. Fifteenth-generation Cannabis 'Ónohi 'Ula. Washi would be so proud." he exhaled, quite pleased.
    "I think this stuff's going to survive the journey," he added with a gleam in his dark brown eyes.
    "Sure. If we survive." quipped Lee Pei.
    David looked over to her, finding her every bit as amusing and attractive now as he did eleven years ago. Small and thin, she looked like a fragile flower, but her choppy haircuts, crazy sense of humour and boisterous manner effectively shattered that image. David had learned a long time ago when to take her seriously and when not to.
    "Ever the eternal optimist, no? Well my lady fair, should we cook this up and go to a video room?"
    Lee Pei put her hands on her slender hips, well-hidden beneath baggy denim overalls. Her expression was dead serious as she stated, "As long as we don't watch 'Hamlet' again. You always get too depressed at the end."
David was a little disappointed, since he was indeed in the mood to be immersed in the high drama and melanchony of the Mel Gibson classic.
    "Well then, what do you suggest?" he remarked snidely. But before Lee Pei could respond, she was cut off by the intrusive sound of the ComMod.

And so the call continued on throughout the ship, to various crew members whose laser aptitudes would be very much needed in case of a hostile attack.
    The last on Jackie's 'list' of gunhoes, Carolyn Baker, was in one of several laboratories on board the spacecraft, working on her pet project -- a new zirconium-glass material that would double the range of their lasers -- something that could prove to be very useful in their current situation.
"Ivan." Carolyn directed her attention to the mop-haired Russian. Jackie looked away nonchalantly, having no love whatsoever for the fiery, red-haired engineer.
    "I've been working on the lens enhancer. I think it might be ready for live-testing in a couple of days."
    "I think we might be needing it."
    After a brief recap, Carolyn, who understood Ivan better than anyone else, picked up on the unspoken gravity of the situation.
    "So, I guess I'll see you in the Wicker." Carolyn recognized the look in his eye when he replied simply, "Uh-hum." She could tell that he had an agenda that was separate from the one Jackie had apparently set.
    She switched off the transmission and put away the now-very precious alloy samples. She knew that Ivan would not be there when she arrived.
    Back in the Wicker, Ivan stared blankly at the empty video screen. His thoughts were interrupted by Jackie's still heavy Australian accent.
    "D'ya mind if I sit there for a spell? I thought I'd let Terri know what's going on. I mean, she is a former pilot, y'know."
    Ivan's only reply was to get out of the chair.
    As Jackie sat down, Ivan moved further back, out of the range of the video-com.
    "Jackie." A beautiful woman in her mid-thirties appeared on the video screen. She had black curly hair and heavy-lidded dark brown eyes.
    "Are you still in the Gen Room? I thought you were only going to be there for an hour."
    "You wouldn't believe what happened."
    Before Jackie could elaborate on his version of the story, Ivan slipped out of the WCR unnoticed.

Let me know what you think.

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