In this chapter, Ruby the reporter and narrator of the remainder of the story appears. She meets Beverly at Beverly's instigation and learns much.

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This story was originally written over thirty years ago when I was still trying to come to terms with my childhood abuse and my transgendered transvestism... I've altered a few bits very slightlt but it's essentially the same as when I first wrote it and I seem now to hold it as a sort of link to my past and a datum mark to show myself how far I've come.

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NEW SPACETRAN
Chapter 3

D’you you think there’s any truth in it?” I asked my boss.

“Jee’ze! I don’t know Ruby. Try and get to the bottom of it. See if there really is any truth to these stories. News about the astronauts just seems to have dried up. One day everybody’s praying and lamenting then the next day zilch! Nothing. It’s bloody strange.”

Despite my best efforts, the staff at the space agency had remained tight-lipped and I had all but given up until one bitter winter’s night as I stumbled home slightly drunk from my regular bar. Yes, I’m forced to confess I was breaking the law vis-a-vis driving my car but what did I bloody care?

I now lived alone since the disastrous break-up of my last relationship. It was hard enough coming to terms with my recently discovered bisexuality but for my ex to go broadcasting it to the world after I came out to him was a betrayal that had left me stunned. Perhaps if he had been a bit less ‘Macho’ and more understanding, even then I might have stayed with him. I had been contemplating ‘coming out’ anyway. For a year after his betrayal I had found myself stumbling from one unsatisfactory lesbian relationship to another until I had all but given up on sex altogether. I was beginning to find my comfort elsewhere; - in a bottle!

In the office I knew they sniggered behind my back and called me ‘The Ice Queen’ - or more often, ‘The Vodka and Ice Queen’. I didn’t care. I was nearly on the edge of suicide anyway and it wouldn’t have taken much to tip me over. My work had been deteriorating as well and my boss had twice pulled me about sloppy journalism. This story about the rumours surrounding the astronauts was just about my last chance.

As I slipped and slithered on the ice to reach the steps of my porch, a feint eerie light suddenly engulfed me. Looking up I was stunned to see a weird object hovering just beyond the fruit trees behind my remote country cottage. The shock paralysed me for a moment until the object came closer then settled silently in my orchard and a door appeared in its skin. After gaping stupidly for a few seconds I plucked up the courage to approach. Whoever or ‘whatever’ was inside obviously meant me no harm. If it was able to hover soundlessly and land so precisely without any disturbance, the occupants must be far advanced of earth’s civilisation and could have easily captured me if they had wished.

No little green head had popped out so this was definitely an invitation. All it needed was courage on my side. Cautiously I gripped the handle and inspected the little ladder as my totally unsuitable heels teetered awkwardly on the rungs. It seemed secure so I pushed my bag through the door, hefted my skirt above my knees and cautiously climbed in. Immediately a human voice spoke softly.

“D’you want to visit the moon?”

I froze momentarily. It was a strange remark. No introductions, none of the cautious ‘first contact’ formalities, - no ‘silly clichés’ like ‘take me to your leader’, just a stark simple question. I stared around nervously but found nobody. I was obviously in some sort of ‘cargo compartment’ for there was no sign of any controls, just another heavily reinforced door with a small thick glass window in front of me. I couldn’t see through the glass because there was a metal visor on the other side. I knocked softly and tried speaking through the thick metal door.

“Is there anybody there?”

There was a short pause before the same voice replied.

“Wait a minute.”

I was puzzled. The voice seemed almost human. In fact it was definitely human. I walked around the cargo hold and as I inspected the compartment the voice spoke again.

“I’ll be ready in a moment but you haven’t answered my first question. D’you want to go to the moon?”

The outer door was still open and it was obvious that my options were still open. I stuck my head out into the frozen night and considered the idea. Thrilled with events, I didn’t take much convincing and soon gave my answer. To a science correspondent the opportunity for a visit to the moon seemed unparalleled.

“Yes. OK. The moon it is then”

I had hardly finished my reply when the outer door whispered shut.

“Will you take a seat please. It won’t take long but you might be nauseous as we warp out of here.”

Before I had a chance to ask any more questions, a panel light came on beside the inner door and some illuminated buttons became visible. I pressed the one reading ‘door’ but nothing happened so I pressed the one marked ‘seat’. A seat unfolded from the wall so I made myself comfortable and secured the seat belt as the craft tipped gently and a soft nauseous hum throbbed in my ears.

“Get ready.” Cautioned the voice, so I secured the seat belt and braced in anticipation of some sort of acceleration as the hum intensified to an invasive whine.

To my surprise, there was no sensation of acceleration and I had to convince myself we were moving by looking out of one of the small portholes as the ground dropped away. The hills receded, then the horizon started to curve and before I realised it, the dawn was forming a brilliant crescent, as the sun appeared.

I knew a lot about space travel; after all I was a science graduate so I realised we must have moved a hell of long way very quickly to create such a sudden sunrise. I turned away for a moment and when I looked again the Earth was already a shrinking orb! There was still no sensation of acceleration and yet there was a gravitational field inside the craft. The whole experience defied all the laws of physics so I moved to another porthole only to find the Moon already filling my field of vision.

‘We were almost there for God’s sake!’ I gasped. ‘What sort of bloody craft was this?’

Stunned, I gaped at the rough lunar surface then felt a sudden nausea as my whole body seemed to lighten suddenly. The gravity had changed and I was now only one sixth of my normal weight. Cautiously I wafted across to my seat and stared at the view again.

‘Yes. I was definitely on or at least, bloody near the moon. The gravity reduction was a clincher’ Suddenly a low rumble warned me that the inner door was opening and I whipped around not knowing what to expect. Despite my best endeavours to expect the unexpected I was still unprepared for the picture of loveliness before me.

She smiled wanly and nervously extended a delicate little hand.

“Sorry I didn’t welcome you aboard just now. I was having trouble with the zip of my dress; it’s got stuck. Could you free it for me please? I can’t get my dress on or off.”

She turned around to expose a beautifully curved back and a delicate lace bra that had tangled with the zip of a perfectly fitting cocktail dress. Dumb-founded, I extended nervous fingers and freed the offending zipper as she sighed thankfully.

“Thanks. They always let’s you down at the worst possible moment don’t they? I had hoped to dress to impress and didn’t really want to meet you with my dress only halfway fastened. I tried to change it but I couldn’t get it over my hips or shoulders. I was stuck”

I gaped at the picture of loveliness and shook my disbelieving head. Any human girl
would have died for such looks. My lesbian heart started to beat faster.

“Where have you come from?” I finally managed to ask the divine creature.

Her beautiful features wrinkled uncertainly as she asked for clarification.

“D’you mean now or originally?”

“Originally, what planet did you come from?”

“Earth.” She answered simply as she invited me into the control room.

“Oh come on!” I scoffed disbelievingly. “You’re not trying to tell me you’re human.”

Her smile froze and two pink spots appeared on her cheek bones as her face tensed with hurt or anger, I couldn’t decide which. Eventually she managed to squeak out her reply.

“I certainly am from Earth, you cheeky bitch! And I most certainly am human - unfortunately.” She added as a soft afterthought.

I sensed a certain bitterness and studied the face. It had stopped smiling and turned to inspect some dials on what was obviously a control panel. As she readjusted some settings and figures I spoke again.

“Who are you then, and what the hell is this ship?”

“I’m a human being, just like you, and this is my ship. I call her The Cold Albatross.”

“Cold Albatross? That’s a funny name.”

“It’s not! We wander endlessly all over the universe just like the Wandering Albatross wanders all over the Southern oceans and it’s bloody cold in deep space. I think it’s a wonderful name.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Just me and the Cold Albatross.” She explained patiently.

“Who built it.” I challenged.

“I did!”

“Come off it! This is right outside Earth’s League. We’re still lighting the blue touch paper and standing well back. This thing is quantum leaps ahead of Earth.”

“Would you like to go back to Earth now. I think you’ve said enough.”

Her beautiful cheeks went white with emotion but I saw the hurt in her eyes and realised I had offended her deeply. I had been unbalanced by events and the whole occasion had got off to a terrible start. I still found it hard to believe she was human and wondered if she was some sort of alien ‘morph’. I voiced my suspicions and she gasped with shock.

“Why you suspicious cow! What the hell makes you think that?”

“You could be some sort of alien trying to ensnare me.” I repeated, still not convinced by her claims about the spacecraft.

“If I was trying to ensnare you, I would have disguised myself as some handsome hunk of masculinity.”

I did a double take. She was right. A man, a ‘white knight on a white horse’ would have seemed far more convincing and attractive a bait. She obviously didn’t know I was mostly a lesbian. I decided to change the subject. Anyway, if she was an alien there was bugger all I could do about it, - stuck out here on the moon. But then; going by the technology around me, there was little more I could have done about it back on Earth. Then a thought struck me.

“Tell me; do you know anything about some astronauts who disappeared into space about a month or so ago?”

Her brow wrinkled but even the frown lines made her look pretty.

“Why? What happened to them?” She asked seemingly perplexed and worried.

I related the full stories complete with the rumours and her eyes narrowed. Then she cursed softly.

“The bastards! What have they done to them?”

“Done to who?” I pressed.

“The astronauts. There were seven of them.”

“Go on,” I pressed eagerly, “do tell.”

“They should be alive. I delivered them safely!”

Then the girl became seriously distressed.

“I did! Honestly. I obeyed all the laws of the IGACOSOLIS convention. I delivered them safely! All of them, I saw them step out of the capsule onto the ship’s deck. They were definitely alive! I tell you I saw them. What have they done to them?”

She started to tremble and stamp her little heels on the metallic floor of her cabin then the tears started to flow and I had to comfort her. It was a delight to take her in my arms as she squeezed fearfully into my embrace.

“There, there now. Don’t upset yourself. They wouldn’t have harmed them, they’ve probably just kept them incommunicado.”

The girl looked tearfully up at me and frowned then she explained.

“Their space craft was hit by meteorites and their expedition turned to rat shit. I had stopped to check Cold Albatross out cos’ I ran into the same meteorite shower. That’s when I found them.”

“So it was you then. You actually saved them.”

“Why? Has someone else on Earth built a spaceship? That bloody planet is still in the stone age; - in more ways than one!”

I realised it was stupid question. The shuttle had been damaged by some sort of meteorite shower and the expedition had missed the moon. As the shuttle hurtled away into deep space the astronauts had tried to effect repairs via some sort of rescue pod; - a life raft of sorts. Sadly the line securing the life-raft to the main shuttle had parted and their evacuation had turned into a disaster. They would have been better staying with the shuttle. The upshot was, the escape capsule somehow became detached from the shuttle then all the astronauts had been given up for dead and the whole world had gone into mourning. Suddenly the space agency had gone quiet about the incident. After a few weeks rumours began to surface that the crew had turned up again safe and sound on the deck of a French aircraft carrier. But they were only rumours.

Now this delightful, beautiful girl, this space traveller was giving me the lowdown. She looked at me slightly puzzled then she shrugged.

“I can prove I saved them! D’you want to see the video?”

I gasped with delight. If this girl had a video, I would have the scoop of my life!

“Do I! Hell of course I do! How much have you got and can I gave a copy!”

She shrugged again and flipped a screen on the console. After tapping in some time settings, a process I easily recognised from my days as a reporter working with police video cameras, the whole sequence of events were portrayed. From rescue in space right through to the deposition on the French aircraft-carrier. I had it all and I quickly worked out the whole story. Boy-oh-boy! Did I have the scoop of the millennium! Eagerly I watched the replay of the video and all was revealed. If I had a copy of this and the earthly means to show it I would be in clover.

Only the astronauts and a few French navy personnel would have seen the unidentified craft gently deposit the astronauts and their wrecked module onto the flight deck in the half light before the dawn and then disappearing into the stormy night sky without a trace. The whole incident had caused consternation on the aircraft carrier and the watchmen had been ridiculed until the several flight deck videos were presented to support their claims. The American and French Governments had obviously worked frantically to limit the damage with a news blackout but the rumours were flying thick and fast. Now I knew exactly why both a French and an American aircraft carrier were being kept out at sea under the pretence of ‘extended sea-borne operations.’

The spacemen had only briefly seen their rescuer and communicated mostly via written cards except for a few brief words. They had never actually touched her, for the Cold Albatross had simply seized their crippled craft, tractor-beamed it on board then taken it and the astronauts back to the safety of Earth. I hugged myself to think what an uproar there would be when I came back with the scoop of the millennium plus the video to support it! Yes the rumours were true! The astronauts had been rescued but I had much more than just the proof of that little story, I also had the evidence of who their rescuer was. A single stunningly beautiful woman who seemingly wandered around space doing good deeds left right and centre. At least it appeared that way because I could see nobody else in the craft and there was only one other door leading off from the cockpit. I presumed it led to her private quarters. She caught me eyeing the door and moved protectively to place herself between it and me. Her actions surprised me.

‘Why was she afraid of me? Surely she held all the aces?’

I glanced towards the pilot seat and raised my eyebrows questioningly. She nodded and I settled into its comfortable folds to explore the controls. This seemed to relax her and she rested her attractive butt against the right hand console as I inspected the controls.

“How fast can this thing go?” I asked.

“I don’t think in terms of distance per unit time. I use time warps to cross the universe. The concept of velocity is old hat. If gravity is strong enough it can warp space. Then space can be twisted in on itself and any distance is reduced to zero. If space is reduced to zero and time still has duration them an infinite distance can be crossed in a finite time; or more accurately, a finite distance can be travelled in an instant.”

She had lost me completely and I fingered the controls ignorantly before speaking again.

“There doesn’t seem to be much to it. There are only these levers.”

I twiddled the group of crude aluminium levers in front of me and she gently reached out to restrain me. The soft touch of her delicate feminine fingers sent goose bumps up my spine.

“Uh, don’t do that, there’s no knowing where we could end up. The travelling is easy. It’s the flipping navigation that’s a sod.”

“How so.” I asked intrigued.

“There are no bloody charts of the universe and I never know where I’ll end up.”

“So how do you get around?”

“I have to reverse everything exactly to get back to the Sol system. It’s easy going from A to B and back to A again. The shit happens when you try to go from A to B to C and then from C to A. It’s a warp across a warp and my maths isn’t up to it yet. Nor is my computer for that matter. I’m still compiling computerised six dimensional charts. It’s OK going back to a place I’ve visited before though because the parameters don’t change that much. Then I can double warp to go from A to C but not vast quantum jumps, at least not until I’ve charted each computable stage and assembled a workable voyage plan of composite warps.”

I could not believe my ears. Here she was apologising for not understanding a concept that the best brains on Earth hadn’t even dreamt of. She carried on talking a little longer before realising that I had lost the plot completely so she smiled and simplified it.

“Look; it’s a bit like Christopher Columbus.” She grinned. “When I set out I’m not sure where I’m going. When I get there I don’t know where I am, and when I get back, I don’t know where I’ve been. Well not exactly anyway.”

“And all on borrowed time, “I finished humorously, “as opposed to borrowed money.”

She smiled wanly and gently caressed the navigation console with her delicate fingers. It was almost like a lover’s caress and she caught me studying her behaviour again. It was obvious that the ship meant a lot to her. Guiltily she lowered her eyes.

“She’s my only love and she’s never failed me. I’m very proud of her.”

“You’ve every right to be. Would you like to tell me more about her.”

“What? So you could build another like her. I think one poor misfit wandering the universe is enough don’t you?”

“I don’t think I could even begin to fathom out how she works. It would be easier to write about you instead.”

“No it wouldn’t”

Her curt denial and sudden change of demeanour intrigued me. Here was an enigma with something to hide.

“Why did you say misfit?”

“Who else would forsake humanity to wander the universe.”

“Forsake humanity? What d’you mean?”

“I left earth years ago. Haven’t been back since. At least, not to meet and greet. I fly by occasionally to restock my wardrobe and my larder. Those astronauts were damned lucky that I was passing. They must be bloody daft to go into deep space without some sort of proper drive system. What the hell possessed them?”

“That’s a bit unfair. They met with an accident. Besides, the shuttle is equipped normally to bring them home.”

“Yeah but, -.”

“But what?”

“Well the whole thing; the whole enterprise was a bit shaky. That shuttle for instance, it hasn’t really got enough fuel to do the business, you know, slowing down to make re-entry safer.”

I studied her curiously as she stared out of the cockpit windows at the harsh lunar landscape. The cocktail dress emphasised her perfect form and I greedily savoured her curves. She was a stunningly attractive woman who would have broken the heart of every man on the planet. It seemed a waste for her to have denied the men of Earth her superb body and fantastic looks, not to mention her brain. Men would have killed for her- 'and lesbians' I added as an afterthought. She turned slowly and noticed me studying her. It was obvious she had read some of my thoughts. Not my lesbian ones though, she was still too relaxed for that. Then she spoke softly.

“Things aren’t always what they seem you know. You should never go by appearances.”

“Believe me I don’t. It’s just that it seems such a waste. What on earth drove you away?”

“People. People on Earth drove me away. It’s an unfortunate expression that isn’t it?”

“What is?” I asked.

“On earth- ‘what on earth’. I mean it’s hardly relevant out here in space is it? It has a certain poignancy for me.”

“Why?”

“Well I’ll never go back. I’ll never set foot ‘on earth’ again. Not permanently, not properly anyway; - not to meet people, - not to live.”

“Why not?”

“You’re full of questions aren’t you?” She parried.

“It’s my job. I’m the science correspondent for the Free Thinker’s Journal.”

“So ask about science. There’s plenty here to keep you busy. Take a space suit and go for a moonwalk. Take some photographs if you like.”

“Nobody would believe me. I mean just look at the set up here. A single gorgeous woman in a little black cocktail dress piloting her own space ship and wandering around space rescuing stranded spacemen. It’s beyond science fiction I think you’d agree.”

“You’ve got the videos that proves it.”

A brief frown clouded her features and she made as if to speak again then thought better of it. It was obvious there was something bothering her. An oppressive silence spread around the little cockpit and she fidgeted nervously with her delicate, tiny hands. Eventually she glanced towards me again and edged towards the other door.

“I’m not being very hospitable am I? Would you like coffee or something?”

“That would be nice.” I replied with my girlish curiosity aroused and anticipating a peek into the forbidden inner sanctum.

She pressed a panel with her hand and the door eased back. I had a brief glimpse of an apartment devoted to a woman who spent a lot of time attending to her appearance. Four of the five walls were mirrored and I suspected I was in the presence of a female narcissist. The door closed immediately behind her and I was denied any further study of the details. I was left alone to gaze absently at the ships’ controls and wonder at the awesome genius that had put the whole thing together. Eventually the door slid back again and she emerged with a tray of cookies and coffee. She had also changed her dress to a more provocative number and I wondered if she suspected something about me. I was certainly feeling tempted.

“There’s a pull out flap under the left hand console.” She smiled.

I reached under and tugged the metal shelf then she carefully set down the tray.

“So what do you think of her then?”

“What? The space ship?”

“What else?”

“It’s amazing. How on earth does it all work.”

“The theory’s easy it’s the engineering that nearly killed me.”

“Do tell.”

“I worked out that gravity is a function of the electron vibrations that exist inside the atoms when they combine to make matter. In an ordinary state these atoms are each acting like individual entities and vibrating to their own script. Each element has its own frequency but even then each individual atom is resonating to its own personal cycle. All I did was create a precise atomic crystalline superconductive amalgam of elements with individual atoms precisely arranged so that the atomic frequencies would run in exact coincidental sequence. The amalgam works like a superconductor with zero resistance so it cannot overheat and yet it can handle an infinite amount of gravity. It’s like gazillion sine waves being turned into a straight line when AC is rectified into DC. The less ripple there is the more efficient the concentration of gravity. The amalgam is then shaped into a thick twisted ring to close the gravitational loop.

All it needs then is a current of a precise frequency and the gravity is concentrated into an infinitely dense linear field. Any space that comes within a perpendicular axis through that field is immediately warped into a doughnut spiral and turns in on itself. The orientation of that perpendicular axis is predictable by a long series of very complex equations, that’s the clever bit cos it gives a warp a direction and enables the navigator, (that’s me) to choose a ‘course’ in more than six dimensions at once. I use that corrupted space to move Cold Albatross from one end of the closed spiral to the other.”

She hesitated then sipped some coffee and nibbled daintily at a cookie as I shook my aching head. The whole idea was way beyond me. God alone knew how she had dreamt up the idea let alone built an engine and a ship to exploit it. I fumbled with my hidden tape recorder and she grinned as the metallic click betrayed my secret.

“Don’t worry I’m not about to give away any important secrets. The principle alone took me two years to develop.”

“Where did you build the ship?” I asked.

“This one is the second edition, it was built for me by aliens but I designed it. I physically built the first one myself, on Earth; in a farmer’s barn. He let me indulge a whim — for a price mind.”

“Some whim. It must have been a big barn.”

“It was a big price.” She countered. A shadow clouded her face and she shuddered momentarily.

‘There goes that secret again’. I thought.

“Why don’t you come back to earth. You know the planet’s becoming overcrowded. This ship could save the whole human race.”

“What! And let them spread like vermin throughout the universe? No thanks; I value my independence and freedom. It’s cost me enough to achieve it. Besides, what about other intelligent life forms out there. You know what humanity’s record is like. -If it moves kill it-.”

“You don’t like your fellow man do you?” I sighed.

“No,” she replied with a disarming simplicity.

“Why not?”

“I had a pretty shitty childhood. I’ve nothing to thank humanity for.”

I sensed we were getting to the nub of the issue. There had to be some reason why she had suddenly decided to reveal herself to me and subsequently, the rest of humanity.

She could have ignored the astronaut’s desperate fate and passed by on the other side of the sun. Nevertheless, despite whatever axe she had to grind with mankind, her natural mothering instincts had forced her to play the Good Samaritan.

“You want to talk don’t you?” I murmured reassuringly. “You want to get it off your chest.”

She fell silent and turned again to stare out of the cockpit window. The sun was
beginning to rise and the harsh brilliant sunlight was beginning to hurt my eyes. It didn’t seem to affect her but I was forced to turn away from the window. She seemed to sense my discomfort and half turned to press a console button. A dark visor descended over the cockpit window and my eyes relaxed again. I turned to study her sensuous back and after a long silence I noticed her shoulders heave. She was crying silently. Unsure what to do I gently put my arm around her shoulder and whispered.

“What’s wrong?”

The sobbing stopped and she slumped onto a small built in divan that lay beneath the cockpit window. It was obviously designed for space watching. The cocktail dress rode up to reveal her ‘hold-up’ stocking tops and she tugged modestly at it before turning to face me. As she dried her eyes there was no smearing of makeup and I peered curiously only to realise she wasn’t wearing any. Her red lips and colour tones were natural. I was about to ask about it but she sighed and stared out into space again with a look born of ages. Then she spoke softly.

“Now you’ve got the scientific theory I suppose you want the woman’s angle? The girl behind the pilot.”

I hesitated uncertainly before cautiously expanding the theme.

“I’d like the whole story, who you are, where you came from, how on earth you came to achieve all this stuff.”

She stared for a long moment at the floor then started softly.

“You won’t like what you hear. It’s a pretty disgusting story.”

“Try me. I’ve hit some pretty awful lows in this reporting game.”

She shrugged, drew a long breath and slowly started talking.

“I’m much older than I look. By your Earth time I’m over fifty but physically I’m still in my early twenties. Time and space travel plays funny tricks on your body.”

“Carry on.” I said, realising she was somehow trying to prepare me for worse shit.

“I don’t think you really want to hear the rest.”

“I do. Everything; warts and all.”

“OK then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ll use third person, it’s not so painful for me.”

I had done a bit of Psychology during my Media studies at college and recognised her attempt to avoid the hurt and guilt by transference.

“Go on.” I encouraged. “I’m not a judge or a jury.”

And so she laid it on my ears.