The Hunt for a Child in a far Time begins

Muni's voice cut through his nostalgia. "Captain? I'm picking up something on long-range. Small craft, approaching fast."

Dirk was at his station instantly. "Identification?"

"Transponder's... wait, that's odd. It's broadcasting a Gumption emergency code. One of ours."

Splock's ears twitched. "That code was decommissioned after the Counter-Dirk incident. Only one person would still use it."

Bill looked at him. "Who?"

The viewscreen flickered. A battered but recognizable ship came into view—small, rakish, with scorch marks on the hull that suggested it had been through hell and hadn't bothered to clean up afterward.

"Ham Duo," Splock said.

Muni looked up from his console. "Who? Is that a person or a brand of something?"

"A person," Splock said. "A freelance adventurer of questionable morals and excellent survival instincts. He and I have crossed paths before."

Dirk raised an eyebrow. "You didn't mention that."

"You didn't ask. Also, it was at Messer Dimitri's sanctuary, under circumstances that were... operationally complex."

Linda Xeux leaned forward, her lavender eyes sparkling. "The Messer Dimitri incident? That sounds glamorous. Was there dancing?"

"There was piano playing," Splock said flatly. "Duo, under the alias Stumper Rosewoodie, performed as a pianist while Bill—also in disguise as the violinist Bill Kliptorian—attempted to avoid being killed by a pit full of Grundges. I served as their manager. It was an evening of considerable tension, though the Grundges were ultimately more confused than dangerous."

Bill shuddered at the memory. "They bite. Trust me. They bite hard."

Muni was working his console. "He's hailing us, Captain."

"Put him on."

The screen shifted to show Ham Duo's face—square-jawed, dour, with the look of a man who'd just bitten into something unpleasant and was trying to decide whether to spit it out or swallow. Behind him, Chewgumma the Kookie loomed, his furry bulk barely contained by the ship's small cockpit.

"Gumption," Duo's voice crackled through. "This is Duo. Requesting permission to dock. I've got information you're going to need, and possibly a Kookie who's eaten all my emergency rations again."

Chewgumma made a series of indignant squeaks. Bill's translator, still functioning despite everything, rendered it as: "Was not me. Was the space weevils. They got into the—"

"It was you," Duo interrupted. "I saw you."

More squeaking. "You saw nothing. Your eyes were full of Interspacial Sleeping Sickness dreams."

"My eyes were closed. I can still hear you chewing."

Dirk cut in. "Duo, it's good to hear your voice. Dock in Bay Four. We'll meet you there."

The screen went blank. Dirk turned to Splock. "You know him better than I do. What's his angle?"

Splock considered. "He has a personal grievance with the Alien Historian. At the campfire, the Historian manipulated him—timed his collapse perfectly, used the Disruptor as bait, escaped in the confusion. Duo does not forgive easily. He will want to be part of whatever we do next."

Bill nodded. "He's also got a Kookie. Kookies are good in a fight. Strong. Furry. Hard to poison."

"That last quality seems oddly specific," Linda observed.

"You haven't seen what they eat."

They made their way to Bay Four. By the time they arrived, Duo's ship had already settled onto its landing struts, hissing and groaning like an old man getting out of a chair. The hatch popped open with a puff of steam, and Duo climbed out, followed by Chewgumma, who had to squeeze through the opening and landed on the deck with a solid thump.

"Hello, Mr. Duo." Dirk extended a hand. "Last I heard, you were unconscious with Interspacial Sleeping Sickness."

"Recovered." Duo shook briefly. "Turns out the Blue Nebula Health Plan covers it. Who knew?"

Chewgumma made a series of squeaking, grunting noises that the translator rendered as: "Took forever. Ham Duo big baby when sick. Whine whine whine."

"I did not whine," Duo said.

"You whined about the food," Chewgumma insisted. "You whined about the window. You whined about the IV drip. Kookie heard everything. Kookie judged."

"Your judging is noted and rejected."

Duo looked around at the Gumption's pastel corridors with obvious disdain. "This place still looks like a staff officers' latrine. You'd think with all that firepower, they'd spring for better decor."

"We function primarily, not decoratively," Splock said.

"Function schmunction. A man spends enough time in space, he wants something nice to look at." Duo spotted Bill and broke into something approaching a grin. "Well, well. The fake violin virtuoso himself. How's the concert career?"

Bill shrugged. "Didn't take. Crowd kept throwing Grundges at me."

"Tough room."

"You're telling me."

Chewgumma waddled forward, his small red eyes blinking. He made a series of sounds that the translator rendered as: "Bill. Good to see you not dead. You owe me a steak."

"I owe you a steak?"

"For the trauma. Of watching you almost get eaten. Very stressful."

Bill looked at Duo. "Does he actually expect a steak?"

"He'll expect it until you give him one, and then he'll expect another one an hour later. Kookie metabolism. Don't ask."

Bill decided to change the subject. "What brings you here?"

Duo's expression shifted to something more serious. "I've got a score to settle with that bowb-headed Alien Historian. He played me for a fool at that campfire, and I don't like being played."

Bill remembered. The campfire. The Disruptor. Duo collapsing mid-sentence. "You mean when he—"

"Exactly." Duo's jaw tightened. "He knew about the Interspacial Sleeping Sickness. He timed it. While I was out cold, he got away. And I had to spend three weeks in a recovery room with people staring at me through a window like I was a fish in a bowl."