Last 2 versions of ShipTooSure

No, that wasn't entirely true, I had much more freedom of movement than most people now around me, more options. I could, theoretically, go almost anywhere. So it wasn't a matter of _where_.

I didn't belong to the _now_.

I'd made a jump to a world close to the Galactic Center where a science team was keeping an eye on our galaxy's black hole and, for me, a trivial defect in the Cat 2 jump engines placed me out of my time... and time-line.

You may think this isn't a common experience, but, in some ways, when it does happen, a Universe (well, time-line) will lose a ship... and another time-line gains it.

Don't laugh; I've been through this before, Both ways.

But never by such a long jump. I'd jumped far enough to place me into the pre-history of the human race. Or, at least, the pre-history of humans as the prime movers within the galaxy.

I'd been making a jump to a planet close enough to our galaxy's center where a science team was keeping an eye on the central black hole(s). This time, though, a trivial defect in the Cat2 jump engines placed me out of my time *and* time-line.

You may think this isn't a common experience, but, in some ways, when it does happen, a Universe (well, time-line) will lose a ship... and another time-line gains it. Upon emergence a new Universe forks. It's been argued that this is why zero-point energy exists but no one has ever found a real answer.

But this isn't all that damn funny. I've been through this before, Both ways. It's never been much of a problem, before.

Yeah, before.

Before.

Now I was in a time... *BEFORE*. I'd jumped far enough to place me into the pre-history of the human race. Or, at least, the pre-history of humans as the prime movers within the galaxy.

Seeing the movie where this phrase started it's life was an eye-opener. Seeing what dusting crops was really about was not all that reassuring, of course.

Actually, I can dispute the truth of our favorite phrase. You see, there's more than one variety of hyperspace and so, multiple mechanisms of supra-light travel. We've found Cat 1 jump points, set up by the Universe through gravity (and other forces). Multiple Cat 2 point-to-point jump drives, allowing near-instantaneous transitions between points (and without the "smear" to make it "less than instantaneous" it can throw a ship into the past). Even Cat 3 "warp" drives. Then there's sponge space, yet another Cat 3.

It's this last, diving into sponge-space, that *is* like dusting crops; you're always skirting right on the edge of the grid for power and control. We avoid sponge-space for long hauls though some for some kinds of passengers this is the only means of travel.

In this almost pre-historic time I was trapped in, I got to watch a real crop-duster at work.

I'm no coward, you know. I've been in sponge space more times than I care to recall and wish, at times, that I could forget. Finally seeing what _real_ Crop-Dusting consists of was far more of a fright given that those pilots aren't part of their planes to the degree I'd be in sponge space.

Diving into sponge-space has never been fun, all right? But being merged into a ship makes it a lot better than flying a lot of little parts through the air.

So this particular jump "felt" shorter than my experience indicated it should have; the more-than-infinitesimal time between entry and exit worried me ... and discovered, upon my re-entry to normal space, that the research facility that I'd been aiming for was no more.

Actually, it wasn't a case of it being "no more"; it was more like not yet. I'd retreated in time due to the jump, all because it had *been* an instantaneous jump.

There were a bunch of us who rotated the job of jumping supplies and people back and forth for over a thousand years along this particular route. This time I was fortunate that I'd not brought any passengers with me on this trip.

I _am_ human, you realize. Still. There are, I am told, approximately 200 million or so of us in the galaxy, mixed in with a whole collection of other life forms. Other races could make jumpers (and, yes, there are a few from almost all races) but humans are far more useful because we're one of the few omnivorous life-forms in the galaxy ... and our seemingly innate desire to explore worked well as we took to our Ships. And nowadays almost all of us are Ships.

We'd basically taken the galaxy by storm; merged into a Ship we made hyper-spatial jumps accurately and efficiently. All other transportation technologies were almost instantly obsolete.

And if you believe that bullshit you're a moron.

No, the advantage to a human-flown starship is that we're part of the ship. We humans had developed the nanotech needed to merge ourselves into the ships so our ships were more our real body. Our human cells are spread throughout the ship, fed and nurtured by the various systems to support my bodies.

We didn't need a hull. Our ships were more like an amoeba. Our advantage laid in managing so many of the varied kinds of hyper-drives, building and disassembling each type of drive on an as-needed basis. We were small, quick, accurate and, above all, human.

Humans aren't unique, of course, but we're at the edge of a bell curve of survivability. Other races most like us have tended to snuff themselves one way or another.

And, as near as I can tell, it was a miracle that we'd not managed to snuff ourselves, too. I suspect now that humans were actually outside the "survival curve" and only the accidents that led to the survival of a small colony on Mars made the difference that loosed us onto an unsuspecting galaxy.

Now we carry most of the commerce for the galaxy. We rotate through assignments so that we don't get too stale and tired from repeating the same itinerary. And we also have some fun; over ten percent of our time is unstructured, allowing us to visit almost anywhere. We humans have poked into and prodded open more of the galaxy than most other races which has not always been a good thing, of course.

So, given this jump, I knew what had gone wrong almost right away; I'd been one of the jocks that had made this particular trip to help establish the research base. I knew already what to look for and the things that were wrong were many.

Every time we emerge from hyperspace the drill is the same: Localize ourselves based on pulsars and stellar organization is automatic. Well, until the match doesn't work. Then we pay closer attention.

So there were discrepancies. Some of them were surprising until I realized their full import. The confirmation of my fears did not go over very well...

Seeing what dusting crops was really like was not all that reassuring, of course.

Actually, the truth of our favorite phrase turned out to be more true than can easily be explained. You see, there's more than one variety of superluminal means of travel, and, so, multiple "kinds" of hyperspatial dimensions.

We know how to find and use Category One "jump" points that are implicit in the rules of various "forces" in the Universe, of which those formed by gravity are the most easily detected and utilized. The points are relatively fixed in space by the various forces that formed them.

Multiple forms of Category Two point-to-point jump drives, allowing near-instantaneous transitions between points. The most popular and efficient form of this drive requires an ability to "smear" time during the jump to ensure there's no jump into "another" time-line. We call any drive where the exit point is part of the entry process a Category Two. These are the most popular drives in use since they are both energy and time efficient.

There are even Category Three drives where one enters a hyperspatial realm where one "drives" between the entry and exit points... and can change course at any time.

Jumping into "sponge space" qualifies as a Category Three.

It's this last, diving into sponge-space, that *is* like dusting crops; you have to skirting "low" on the edge of the grid, the back-bone of all the space-times, for power and control.

We don't like to use sponge-space for any long-hauls though, with some kinds of passengers, we really don't have a lot of choice. In this almost pre-historic time I was trapped in, I got to watch a real crop-duster at work... and got *scared* just by watching.

I'm not really a coward, you know. I've been in sponge space more times than I care to recall and wish, at times, that I could forget. Finally seeing what real Crop-Dusting consists of was far more of a fright in thinking about how tough it must be to fly without being a part of the plane.

Diving into sponge-space has never been fun, all right? But being merged into a ship makes it a lot better than herding a collection of loosely-connected parts through the air.

Returning to my dilemma, this particular jump "felt" shorter than my experience indicated it should have; the unusually short time between entry and exit worried me ... and I discovered, upon my re-entry to normal space, that the research facility that I'd been aiming for was no more.

All right, technically, it wasn't a case of it being "no more"; it was more a case of "not yet". I'd retreated into the past due to this defective jump.

There were a bunch of us who rotated the job of jumping information, supplies and people back and forth for over a thousand years along this particular route. This time I was fortunate that I'd not brought carried any passengers.

I _am_ a human being, you realize. Yes, still. There are, I am told, approximately 200 million or so of us humans active in the galaxy, mixed in with a whole collection of other life forms.

There's nothing unique to humanity that gave us a monopoly on interstallar transport; many other races had jumpers of their own kind and we all tended to get along better than can be easily explained.

Oddly enough, we humans are one of the few truly omnivorous and intelligent life-forms in the galaxy. Our seemingly innate desire to explore worked well as we took to our Ships. And nowadays almost all of us humans are Ships.

We'd basically taken the galaxy by storm; being merged into a Ship and part of its structure, we made hyper-spatial jumps accurately and efficiently. All other transportation technologies based on archaic "ships" became almost instantly obsolete.

And if you believe the above bullshit you don't know any of the histories.

No, the advantage to a human-flown starship only starts with use being part of the ship. The magic trick was the support tech, mostly in the nanotechnology to perform the supportive and symbiotic merger between the mind and not-quite-metal. Our human cells are kept alive and connected despite being spread throughout the ship, fed and nurtured by the various systems to support our dissolved human bodies.

We didn't need a "fixed" hull. Our ships were more like an amoeba, taking on whatever shape was needed for a particular job or to fit the requirements of our drive mechanisms. Our advantage included the ability to manage so many differing varieties of hyper-drives, building and disassembling each type of drive on an as-needed basis. We were small, quick, accurate and, above all, _people_.

Humans aren't really unique, of course. Some research has implied that our physical and psychological make-up put us at the edge of a bell curve of survivability. Other races most like us have tended to snuff themselves one way or another. We've seen other intelligent omnivores start out well and then kill themselves off. Intelligent carnivores seldom survive to the first glimmers of self-awareness.

As near as I can tell from our history, it was a miracle that we'd not managed to snuff ourselves out, too. I have my suspicions that humanity was really outside the "survival curve" and only the accidents that led to the survival of a small colony on Mars made the difference that set us loose on an unsuspecting galaxy.

Now... ummm... now, way in an alternate future-- we carried most of the commerce for the galaxy. As individuals, we rotate through assignments so that we don't get too stale and tired from repeating the same runs. We also have some fun; over ten percent of our time is unstructured, allowing us to visit almost anywhere. We humans have poked into and prodded open more of the galaxy than most other races in "recent" memory. As one can imagine, this hasn't always been a good thing.

I learned the story to go with this recently.

Pandora should have kept her chastity belt on so that her box could not have been gotten at, much less opened.

So, given this bad jump, I knew what had gone wrong almost right away; I'd been one of the jocks that had made this particular trip to help establish the research base. Beyond the databases, I had personal knowledge of what to look for and had little problems recognizing how deep the shit was.

Every time we emerge into realspace the drill is the same: Localize ourselves based on pulsars and stellar patterns. Well, until the match doesn't work. Then we pay a *lot* closer attention.

Of course, with a change of 120 centuries in time, there were discrepancies. Some of them were surprising until I realized their full import. The confirmation of my fears was not comforting.

Now I was stranded, coming to a time before three of the supernovae that had formed "known" pulsars for this area had blown. Their progenitor stars looked, well, interesting, but I wasn't in the mood to do pre-nova studies all over again. Being "too close" to a supernova even once was five too many times.

Despite the distraction of the "pull" to watch some fireworks when one of the stars would explode, it was still a shock to consider how I was stranded deep in the past. If I was still flesh and blood I would have sighed, but with my mind (and brain cells) spread across my Ship I didn't have time for that.

Three of the maintenance AIs were told to work in performing a detailed diagnostic of all the various systems. Hopefully no AI internal faults would be present.

In order to figure out exactly where I was relative to Mars (my birthplace, and, so, "home" to me), I pondered the next step. There were a few things I could try, but I needed to make sure all was well. The micro-diagnostics were set to run and my concentration on where ... well, actually, I knew closely enough _where_ I was. It was _when_ I was that was now important.

Now I was stranded, coming to a time before three of the supernovae that had formed "known" pulsars for this area had blown. Their progenitor stars looked, well, interesting, but I wasn't in the mood to do pre-nova studies all over again. Having been "too fucking close" to a supernova even once was seventeen times too many.

Despite the distraction of the pull of curiousity to watch some big fireworks when one of the three stars would explode, it was still a shock to consider how I was stranded deep in the past. If I was still flesh and blood I would have sighed, but with my mind (and brain cells) spread across my Ship I didn't have time for that.

I set three of my maintenance AIs to work in performing the detailed diagnostics necessary for all the various systems. Hopefully no AI internal faults would be present as well.

In order to figure out exactly where I was relative to Mars (my birthplace, and, so, "home" to me), I pondered the next step. There were a few things I could try, but I needed to make sure I was still able to safely travel. While all of the micro-diagnostics were running my concentration on where well, actually, I knew closely enough _where_ I was. It was _when_ I was that was now important.

Working back, the best estimate is that my long jump without the smear circuit had thrown me into a temporal foldback equal in time to the number of light-years I'd just crossed.

Granted, I'm usually alone, melded into a Ship, my very nervous system stretched out to the very tips of the spines, allowing me to feel and drive myself through space and the various forms of hyperspace.

Temporal foldbacks can't be undone, of course. Return to normal space causes a fork in the time-line of the Universe and so a new set of Universes will evolve with new histories. I was stuck in this new reality, now. Being that I couldn't "go home" again, I had to make a new home in this fork I'd fallen into.

It's been hypothesized that diving into sponge space could possibly return me to the right fork of reality from which I'd come, but that would just form another fork. In my own mind I saw the effort as an exercise in futility, all because the likelihood to become further lost was nightmarish.

So, knowing that risk, we pilots knew our only choice when things like this go wrong: just grin and bear it. Become a member of the "local" space-faring time-line. Join in carrying the load of commerce. Hence there were other instances of me along with many of the other ships plying the galactic trade routes.

But we've never considered a jump this far back in time, when humanity was not merely still stuck in it's own solar system, but to a time when it was still confined to just one planet. What was I expected to do?

With the knowledge that history forks anyway, there's no need to rule out "interference with the past". I could do quite a bit, here.

Temporal foldbacks can't really be undone, you realize. Return to normal space causes a fork in the time-line of the Universe and so a new set of Universes will evolve with new histories.

I was stuck in this new reality, now.

Being that I couldn't "go home" again, I had to make a new home in this fork I'd fallen into.

Although It's been hypothesized that a proper dive into sponge-space could possibly return me to the fork of reality from which I'd come, that would just form another fork when I emerged. In my own mind I saw the effort as an exercise in futility, all because the likelihood to become further lost was nightmarish.

So, knowing the risks, we pilots knew our only choice when things like this go wrong: just grin and bear it. Become a member of the "local" space-faring time-line. Join in carrying the load of commerce. These events tended to average out.

We've never really contemplated this great a jump back in any time-line to a time when humanity was not merely still stuck in it's own solar system but to a time when it was still confined to just one planet.

What was I expected to do?

With the knowledge that history forks anyway, there's no need to rule out "interference with the past". I had more latitude than I usually do, here and now.

With everything up to "normal" I rolled the Ship back up into the tight ball needed to make a Cat 2 jump and jumped the 21,754 light years to reach "Sol"... and Mars.

When you jump that kind of distance there are accuracy issues. Going from the higher gravitational potential near the galactic center to the more sparse regions where the Human sun resided increases the error factor. (Going "up" the gradient seems to make error factors narrower.)

So my miss was by approximately 1,200 light years... which was actually a very good showing. I unfolded all of the spines and opened a jump point into regular hyperspace. I was not in the mood to deal with sponge diving.

With everything up to "normal" I rolled the Ship back up into the tight ball needed to make a Cat2 jump and jumped the 21,754 light years to reach "Sol"... and Mars.

When you jump that kind of distance there are always going to be accuracy issues; it's inescapable. Going from the higher gravitational potential near the galactic center to the more sparse regions where the star my birthplace orbited resided increases the error factor.

So my miss was by approximately 1,200 light years... which was actually a pretty good. I unfolded all of the drive spines and opened a jump point into a more "regular" Cat3 hyperspace. I am almost always never in the mood to deal with sponge-space diving.

I took my time spiraling into the inner solar system, busy trying to re-learn everything I'd need to understand my own birth world as it currently stood.

I took my time spiraling into the inner solar system, busy trying to re-learn everything I'd need to understand the solar system of my birth as it currently stood.

Even reproduction doesn't require a full human body; the gonads get reassembled, the gametes produced, and zygote(s) collected and nurtured in a creche. Regular non-jumping humans tend to the children and bring them up for us so that more ships can be made. Sometimes a Ship will step out of space and be fully human to raise their own offspring.

But in the here and now I wondered whether a real human body would be needed given the lack of reproductive infrastructure.

The sudden memory of what it was like to actually mate as a human being told me that I wanted to consider it. So, part of my desire to re-constitute my human body was that I missed sex. Even without sex hormones delivered to my brain cells, I still thought of that world full of humans...

Admittedly I could no longer ever be merely human; there would always be a connection to the Ship as part of me. A Ship was part of both who and what I am. I couldn't even think of turning away from space. Once one has flown the pull of the vacuum between the stars is almost irresistible.

So I had plenty of time to let the other systems assemble a body for me as I worked to approach the inner Solar System.

Discovering that I'd arrived too soon to find an existing Martian colony had me looking at the Earth with remembered anxiety. I had little choice but to bend my trajectory for the birthplace of humanity.

It's been a long time since the Earth was this beautiful, with rich greens of vegetation as evidence of a life-bearing world. Even Mars had never looked so fine.

The nanotech wars of the late 21st Century had killed off all life and forced us to quarantine the earth as a dead world. I remembered the histories when I was growing up on Mars telling of the religious zealots who preferred to kill everybody so that God could sort out the good and bad. Some humans were so sure they'd achieve paradise through this genocide.

It was believed the utter destruction of all life on earth hadn't originally been the plan, but they'd been stupid.

Instead, we'd had to build our own paradise. On Mars, on the moon, into the outer systems...

And the deflection fleets to keep anything large from striking the Earth protected the rest of the systems from any "splashes" that might free the nanotech-derived horror from it's gravitational prison. There's been thousands of years of talk about dropping the Earth into the sun to cut the cost of maintaining the fleets.

Even reproduction doesn't require a full human body; the gonads get partially reassembled and gametes produced for delivery to a center where they'd be combined with gametes from a ship of the "other sex", the zygotes grown and raised either in a creche or in a human family that has chosen to stay "just" human. It is not unknown for a Ship to step out of space and stay fully human to raise their own offspring.

But in the here and now I wondered whether I'd need my real human body given the lack of reproductive infrastructure.

The sudden memory of what it was like to actually mate as a human being told me that I wanted to consider doing it the old-fashioned way at some point. So, part of my desire to re-constitute my human body was that I missed sex. Even without sex hormones delivered to my brain cells, I still thought of that world full of humans...

Admittedly I could no longer ever be merely human; there would always be a connection to the Ship as part of me. A Ship was part of both who and what I am. I couldn't even think of turning away from spacing. Once one has flown the pull of the vacuum between the stars is almost irresistible.

I've also heard that the lure of "real sex" is irresistable, too. My own activities had been few and, I am told. likely unsatisfying.

As I spiralled into the human solar system and looked over the planets I'd worked around in my "infancy", I had plenty of time to assemble an avatar as I approaced the inner planets.

My home world seemed empty without people. I missed seeing beacons and feeling a flow of radio traffic. It hurt to know I'd arrived too soon to find a settlement on Mars; I had to look at Earth which brought back many remembered anxieties. I had little choice but to bend my trajectory for the birthplace of humanity rather than my own birth.

Finding a living planet where all I'd ever seen was a blue, red and gray lifeless world was a wonder. I've seen other planets claimed as earth-like and never understood why they were called that.

Now I knew.

It's been a long time since the Earth was this beautiful, with rich greens of vegetation as evidence of a life-bearing world. Even Mars at it's best had never looked so fine.

Earth's future wasn't pretty, of course. The nanotech war of the late 21st Century had killed off all life and forced us to quarantine the Earth as a dead world. I remembered the histories when I was growing up on Mars telling of the religious zealots who preferred to kill everybody so that "God could sort them out". Some humans were so sure they'd achieve paradise through this genocide.

It was believed the utter destruction of all life on earth hadn't originally been the plan. OK, that's possible, but given the weapon they chose, it wasn't likely they had a clue.

With the loss of the Earth as a going concern we'd had to build our own paradise. On Mars, on the moon, into the outer systems...

Also necessary were the deflection fleets to keep anything large from striking the Earth; we didn't want to take a chance that the nanotechnic agent could escape the earth on the "splatter" of a large meteoric strike. It was best to keep the nanotechnic horrors as contained as possible at the bottom of a gravitational well. There's been thousands of years of talk about dropping the Earth into the sun to cut the cost of maintaining the fleets.

I had historical knowledge stored away along with the total creative output of mankind (well, what was left) within my ShipSkin. Archives from before the extinction of life on Earth were thin, however, and much of the later material would likely become obsolete.

I listened to the babble coming in via radio waves and even managed to receive "television" broadcasts. I was able to assemble small probes that I could send ahead of me to relay various signals of interest.

It was 1969 AD down there as I circled Earth in high orbit. I watched one of the most momentous events in the history of the human race as it was broadcast on their television, the signals being easier to sort given their almost identical content.

I wished to have been human for that moment; tears would have poured from my eyes as Neil Armstrong ...

I found my first obvious difference. Neil blew his lines. This fork was already diverging from history "as I knew it".

Regardless... none of us jumpers would have failed to weep at witnessing man's first touch of another world.

I had historical knowledge stored away along with the total creative output of mankind (well, what was left on the moon and Mars when Earth went off-line) within me. Archives from before the extinction of life on Earth were thin, however, and much of the later material would likely be obsolete, now.

After all, _I_ was here.

Listening to the babble -- and seeing "television" -- being delivered via radio waves was educational; there was a *lot* of material about the Earth missing from our records.

It was 1969 "Anno Domini" or "AD" (whatever that meant) down there as I circled Earth in a high orbit. I was there, able to watch via "television"...

Words cannot express the feelings that ran through me.

If I could have, I would have had tears in my eyes as I I watched one of the most momentous events in the history of the human race as it was broadcast on their television. My own sensors had tracked the various pieces of Apollo 11 as it had left Earth's orbit. The trajectories had stood out from the rest of the "junk" locked into earth orbit.

So, yes, I wished to have been fully human for that moment; tears would have flowed as Neil Armstrong stepped onto the lunar surface, the first human to do so, and ...

Neil blew his lines.

What? Where was that "_a_" in a "small step for _a_ man"?

The full impact of this moment in history was broken by how it diverged from the historical of the event. I'd found the first obvious fork in the time-line.

Regardless... none of us jumpers would have failed in wanting to weep at witnessing man's first touch of another world.

I thought about the future, as in what would be a reasonable set of priorities.

Humans were endangering themselves.

I'm a human being. Sure, I'm a Ship, too, but, first and foremost, I was born human. As such, I felt it important to protect the human blood-line in the here and now. So I did think about it.

There were plenty of humans down there. I could steal some. I could steal quite a few of them and no one would really notice, I figured. Males and females, of course, though I wanted some females for _me_. With these humans I could make more Ships.

All I need do was dip into the right place-- be it an ocean or jungle on earth, for instance, or one of Jupiter's moons, wherever... and, given a human on board in the right place, my Ship would reproduce itself, fissioning a new child around it's seed-- a human being.

Heck, if I got to close to a detonating thermonuclear weapon while unprepared, *I* could be damaged.

I thought about the future, as in what would be a reasonable set of priorities for me.

Humans were endangered. Without viable settlements on other planets and moons they would be extinct in just over a century.

I am still a human being. Sure, I'm a Ship, too, but, first and foremost, I was born human. As such, I felt it important to protect the human blood-line in the here and now. So I did think about it. This would take some time.

There were plenty of humans down there, of course. I could dip down and steal some-- hell, I could steal quite a few of them from down there and no one would really notice! Males and females, of course, though I wanted to try out sex with some of the females first. With these humans I could make more Ships.

Then all I would need do was dip into the right place-- be it an ocean or jungle on earth, for instance, or one of Jupiter's moons, wherever... and, given a human on board in the right place, my Ship would reproduce itself, fissioning a new child around the seed-- a human being.

But I had to choose some humans before I could get my Ship to replicate itself...

This was going to be interesting.

I continued to study this world as my avatar was assembled. I deferred the idea of assembling a "real" me simply because there was no immediate need for me to take that kind of risk. With the ability to dynamically generate "clothing" my avatar was ready to "be" me.

So, with this "face", I was ready to try facing the earth. Of course I wasn't quite right. A Mars-born human tends to differ in appearance from a born "earther", especially in musculature.

Avatars are flexible and can handle vacuum almost as well as a Ship can, so it was nothing to halt and hover over a city and lower the body down via gravitic tractors; once in the upper atmosphere I coupled my attention to this body as it fell through the air, remaining in free-fall in order to get close enough to the ground to use gravitics to bring it to a stop.

Where I'd land... well, I'd originally aimed for a place in the eastern portion of what was referred to as the United States. It was fortunate that I chose night time for this drop; my avatar was well-equipped with and a broad visual spectrum, so I fell into a river.

This told me that the likelihood of the human race surviving the appointment with death was, for the most part, zero.

There was a wealth of information here available via radio and television; I had to nip out to the moon to scrounge up raw materials to assemble probes that would be landed in various places to make reception more reliable. Given the obvious risks, I deferred the idea of reassembling my "real" body. At this point there was no need for "me" to be "me". With the ability to dynamically generate "clothing" from the nanotechnic devices it was built from, my avatar was ready to "be" me.

So, with this "face", I was ready to try facing individual humans on the Earth. Of course I wasn't quite right. A Mars-born human tends to differ in appearance from a born "earther", especially in musculature.

Avatars are flexible and can handle vacuum almost as well as a Ship can, so it was nothing to halt and hover near the east coast of North America and lower my avatar via gravitic tractors; once in the upper atmosphere I coupled my primary attention to the avatar as it fell through the air, remaining in free-fall in order to get close enough to the ground to use gravitics to bring it to a stop.

Where I'd land... well, I'd originally aimed for a place in the eastern portion of what was referred to as the United States. It was fortunate that I chose night time for this drop; my avatar was well-equipped with a sensory capacity much greater than a normal human's.

With an unexpected splash I arrived in the middle of a river.

There is something to arrogance and stupidity that we humans fall prey to, and only the uncertainties of life make it possible to wiggle our way out of disaster.

It was locally near midnight when I walked through a campground.

How was I to know? I'm an innocent, nothing I saw seemed to be familiar. I recognized the boxy metal object as a vehicle but I'd never seen a real fire before. I was so entranced by the flames that I didn't recognize the group of people gathered around it until a large male stood up and blocked my path.

There is something to arrogance and stupidity that we humans all fall prey to, and only the uncertainties of life make it possible to wiggle our way out of disaster.

It was locally around 9PM when I walked through someone's campground.

How was I to know? I was an innocent. Nothing I saw seemed to be familiar. I recognized the boxy metal object with wheels as a vehicle but I'd never seen a real fire before. I was so entranced by the flames that I didn't recognize the group of people gathered around it until a large male stood up and blocked my path.

"Who... or what... are you?" came the unsteady voice.

I think I was as shocked as he. It had been hundreds of years since I'd needed to hear words carried by air much less spoken myself.

I looked at my avatar's legs and arms and compared them with those around me.

Well, I could see some re-engineering of my image was going to be needed but that would require raw materials. I spoke again, addressing his question "I am not starved but I will need to do some re-engineering. I will need to take some time..."

It took ten minutes-- which included breaking down some of the sediments and rock under this body for use as raw materials-- to bulk "me" up to a more "normal" appearance.

By the time I got back up out of the water I was almost as tall as the large male who's originally accosted me and my limbs had gotten larger around. Quite a few of the systems management processors were happy with the changes given the extra leverage and motivator mass... and there was more room for this body to carry coolant and to distribute it.

It took ten minutes to bulk "me" up to a more "normal" appearance-- for an earther.

By the time I got back up out of the water I was almost as tall as the large male who'd originally accosted me and my limbs had gotten larger around. Quite a few of the systems management processors were happy with the changes given the extra leverage and motivator mass... and there was more room for this body to carry coolant and to distribute it.

People are weird. I was surrounded by these people who were looking at me with odd expressions on their faces.

One female, larger than the others, walked up to me and stroked the bald scalp and asked me "No hair?"

The original giant stuck out his hand to me "I'm Eddie." He then pointed to the woman who asked about my lack of hair and said "This is my wife Debbie." Of the other four smaller humans "My twins Tammy and Tommy, Glenn and little Holly." He turned and looked more closely at me "All right, so *what* are you?"

"Man, at least up there. This" waving at the avatar's body, "is a machine. I was born human, then, by the time I was an adult, I merged into a Ship."

Tommy asked "So, how long have you been a Ship? And what does it take to be one?"

"I have been a Ship for approximately eleven thousand eight hundred twelve earth years. I'm here -- and now -- because I accidentally made a jump into the past. When that happens we can't go back."

Glenn looked at me and asked "Why are you telling us this? Captain Kirk wouldn't tell anybody anything because of the Prime Directive."

Glenn, Tommy and even Tammy gave me a lecture on a TV show named Star Trek. I'd not run across transmissions during my time in orbit but then I'd been concentrating on news and the like.

I finally nodded and explained "It doesn't apply; we already know there are multiple versions of the Universe. Anything I do here won't affect _my_ time line. As it is, Neil didn't blow his lines in my history books and the crew of Apollo 13 didn't make it. A lot of things in space have changed because they survived the disaster, things that I suspect under-cut the Moon Colonization efforts in 1989 and the first Mars Landing in 1992. At the rate things are going in this time-line I doubt the human race will survive the nanowar of 2087."

Glenn, Tommy and even Tammy gave me a lecture on a TV show named Star Trek. I had the AIs try to give me a summary as well but the human minds around me did a better job.

I finally nodded and explained "It doesn't apply; we already know there are multiple versions of the Universe. Anything I do here won't affect _my_ time line. As it is, in _my_ histories, Neil Armstrong *didn't* blow his lines and the crew of Apollo 13 didn't make it back alive. A lot of things in space have changed because they survived the disaster, things that I suspect under-cut the Moon Colonization efforts in 1989 and the first Mars Landing in 1992. At the rate things are going in this time-line I doubt the human race will survive the nanowar of 2087."