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THE SHIP OF STONE Once there was a Ship of Stone That orbited a mighty Star And from it flew the First Ship's crew Whose children we all are And no matter how long we've drawn our track Still over our shoulder looking back Through the Tibanna's hiss and the Lethane's moan Past the polymer...

SOMEWHERE ALONG A HYPERLANE, IN THE OUTER RIM... Irma Kinton, rodentoid adventuress, sat in the curved bezel of a large view-port, features lit by the swirling tunnel of hyperspace outside. Also visible outside were the other ships of the Laogot Fleet, flying in loose formation. The tableau was...

TRAMMIS III ORBITAL SERVICES, THE OUTER RIM... The Ossein, it seemed, didn't like to set down on planets. Irma Kinton, star-trotting historian and pilot for hire, felt slightly disappointed at that, looking down through one of the big, curved transparisteel viewports of the old 500-series...

THE INNER RIM, PLANET CHARDAAN, A SPACEPORT SOMEWHERE ON THE SURFACE... Irma Kinton, space pilot, librarian, blasterfighter and amateur vehicular combatant, cursed as she re-seated a xylen integrated circuit. "Guh! I have just about had it with this thing!" Not so long ago, the diminutive...

SOMEWHERE... He was coming. It happened in slow motion, the little Tintinna's motions leaving wavering tracers in the air as she brought the sleek, compact weapon to bear on another charging savage. The man - the creature - was half-naked, brandishing a wicked-looking spear fashioned from...

THE EXPANSION REGION, PLANET DERRA IV, WAY-STATION IN ORBIT. "Eider, the next time I say I want to skip a way-station, I want you to take the controls away from me, understand?" ID-3R02 gave a warble of agreement as Irma Kinton walked stiffly down the corridor of one of the Derra IV orbital...

CORELLIA, CORONET CITY, CORELLIAN CENTRAL ARCHIVE. "Miss? Miss? I'm afraid we're closing for the day." With a sleepy grumble, Irma Kinton lifted her head from the synthwood reading desk, straightening her large transparisteel glasses and blinking owlishly. Standing over her was a middle-aged...

THE PLANET DELACRIX, 5 ABC. Rain lashed at the pathway up from the little communal landing pad, its worn old flagstones slick with water and the moss that grew on them. Occasionally, thunder rumbled overhead, and lightning lit the mountainous landscape in brief flashes of daylight. Wind gusted...