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at how much of it was still intact—but was none the wiser as to how the spectral extraterrestrial might have manifested itself.
    In the afternoon I sat before my com-terminal and accessed Chalcedony’s information nexus. I called up facts about all the space-faring alien races known to humankind, their history and space-going exploits.
    There were three races whose level of technological progress had reached that of humankind—or almost: humanity was the first race to discover and develop the teleportation process, rendering spaceflight obsolete. Two alien races, the Zexu and the Qlax, had abandoned their space industry and paid humanity to use the Telemass relay stations. The third, the Mathan, were isolationist and maintained their space-fleet for use within their own three planet home system, and rarely ventured beyond.
    I called up visuals of the races, though I vaguely recalled their appearances from holo-docs and magazines on Earth: the Zexu were humanoid, not dissimilar to Homo sapiens, if you discounted their fur and the fact that they were twice as tall as the tallest human; the Qlax were octopoid, and the Mathan tiny—creatures a metre tall which resembled bush babies.
    I then called up the visuals of every non-space-faring alien race discovered, thinking that whoever had maintained the ship might have employed crew of lower technological status than themselves. But of the two dozen alien races extant, not one matched the apparition I had seen the night before.
    I wondered if the answer was that the figure had never been the true representation of an extraterrestrial type, but merely a holographic image conjured by the ship’s owners—the alien equivalent of a cartoon character.
    I took a break at lunch and, instead of repairing to the Fighting Jackeral for my customary beer and salad, had a quick sandwich and got back to work.
    Something about the dimensions of the ship, which I had noticed while pulling myself through its innards, had made me wonder.
    I made a series of measurements: the height of consoles, acceleration slings, and control pedestals; the width of inspection crawl-spaces, corridors and access tubes, and tried to work out from these which race might have manufactured and flown the ship.
    I estimated that they must have been taller than humans, the Qlax and the Mathan, but not as tall as the Zexu… Which begged the question: had the ship belonged to none of the known races, but to one so far undiscovered? The thought filled me with a quickening excitement. I had visions of fame at being the first person to discover an unknown alien race; but I came back to earth when I considered the improbability of this scenario. The obvious answer was that my calculations were way out.
    Tomorrow I’d go and see Hawk at his scrapyard, tell him about the haunted ship he’d sold me and go through the figures with him. I was sure his practical mind would come up with a more prosaic answer.
    I was about to take a shower, then slip out for a beer at the Jackeral, when I heard a familiar and welcome voice call out from the foot of the ramp.
    “David, are you in there?”
    I hurried out, wiping my greasy hands on a rag.
    Maddie stood with her feet planted in the sand, squinting up at me. She was wearing shorts and a poncho, which was a bizarre enough combination anyway, but these garments were clearly homemade. She gave the impression of a blonde doll dressed in clothes inexpertly stitched together by a five year-old.
    “David, I hope I’m not interrupting—”
    “Come on in. I’ll give you a guided tour.”
    She climbed the ramp and stepped into what had been the airlock, peering around her in fascination.
    “This is the very first time I’ve ever been in a spaceship,” she said.
    I gave her a quick tour and finished in the lounge. “And this is where I spend most of the time.”
    She looked around. “You’ve got it looking very homely, David. I like the wall hangings.”
    “Imported all the way