BREE! BREE! BREE!
	The alarm rang, but it wasnÕt really necessary. The ships reactor going haywire is just one of those things that you usually know about before anyone else, especially if you work in the engine room. Fourth Sargent Adam Smith was regretting that decision.
	He was a Kilarian, a green, large-eyed, digitigrade Alien. He also had Antennae, and he was running for his life. His speciesÕ leg structure, while not particularly befitting climbing ladders, sliding, or crawling, was excellent for running.
	It would probably help if he didnÕt have to stop at every door between here and the Lifepods. He was also a bit of a coward, and knew when sparks started flying, run like hell. He didnÕt bother looking behind him, as all he would see would be angry people, likely trying to pick up dropped equipment, and he knew there would be nothing that could possibly make him run any faster.
	His mind was still thinking, trying to figure out a faster way to the Lifepods, faster than running right at them, but stopping at every door. Maybe he could take a shortcut through Hangar 7É
	ÉOh no. He KNEW what would happen. The power would fail, a ship would fall without itÕs grav-tethers, or the Atmo-shield would malfunction, and heÕd be sucked into space. No, he was just fine, running like this. No danger whatsoever.
	Then he was somewhere else.

	Captain Rick Weaselpants (Say a damn word about the name, IÕll put you out the airlock) was confused. Not about the reactor, that happened all the time. He was confused about the communications console.
	There was absolutely nothing explosive inside, yet when the reactor started making horrible clanking noises that could be heard throughout the ship, the console had exploded, and Lieutenant Dritz had to be sent to sick bay.
	Some background on the ship: It was a Valdez- Class Recon ship, built to explore outside the boundary of the human territory farther than any other. Aside from the other Valdez- Class ships.
	It was basically a test ship, made so that various scientists could send in equipment, and they could test it. It was supposed to do this until everyone on board died at once, or the ship exploded, or they were sucked into an alternate dimension or whatever.
	None of those facts could explain the Comm Console exploding.
"Lieutenant Lee?"
"Aye CapÕn?"
"Have you been storing explosives on board again?"
"UhÉ No CapÕn! Incidentally, if the mess hall disappears in a fiery blaze, I had nothing to do with it."
"ÉRight. Anyway, can you get Smith up here, on the double? I need him to tell me whatÕs wrong with the reactor this time."
"Aye aye, sir. Which one?"
"The engineer one." Captain Weaselpants (SaDWatN,IPYOaA) said, confused for a second. Five decks below and 12 decks back, a third of the security division sighed. The security division was made up of three groups, the Smiths, the Johns, and the Browns. And Bob, for a full one hundred percent. Interestingly enough, Bob was on every mission, but it was always one of the other three groups that ended up dead, and were immediately replaced by an identical person, who claimed to be unrelated.
"Uh, sir."
"Yes?"
"HeÕs not in engineering."
"Then where is he?"
"Deck 15. Er, Deck 14. Pardon, Deck 13. HeÕs moving very fast."
"Those decks are parallel to each other, on separate levels!"
"You may have to tell him that, Sir."

After the blinking lights had subsided, Smith looked around. He was in a part of the ship he had never seen before. He vaguely remembered something one of the crewmen had said on the day he came on board. They were talking about the infamous "Deck 1". Supposedly, it had been the teleportation labs, but there had been an accident involving a dog, so they closed it off. They hadnÕt taken it out, knowing that the ship would crash someday, and the lab would be destroyed then.
He looked at one of the consoles, and was surprised to see that it had been activated recently, to transport something. Scrolling up, it had transported something else.
He was just about to click on it, to see what, when a knife was put against the front of his throat.
"Have you brought the beans?"

Captain Weaselpants (IÕm serious about the airlock thing) was not a patient man. He was fed up with waiting for Smith, and started rooting around in the remains of the Comm center. In a tangle of wires, he found a burnt piece of paper.
It was almost illegible, but Captain Weaselpants (IsatAT) could make out one sentence:
"THIS IS THE TELEPORTATION LAB. SEND BEANS OR WE"LL BLOW UP THE SHIP."

"So how did you mess with the reactor?" Smith was being very careful about how he worded this question. Four improvised knives all pointed at your throat by near-rabid scientists could do that to a person.
"WeÕve been down here for ten years, without running water, fresh clothes, and since last week, food. What do we have the most of?"
"Crazy?"
"Close. Socks. Horrible, horrible socks. We teleported them into the warp reactor. And to keep you mechanics searching, we only sent one of each pair."
Looking down, Smith noticed for the first time that all the scientists were only wearing one sock, and no shoes. From the smell permeating the room, they had cooked and eaten them already.
Looking up, he asked: "ButÉ Socks inside the Warp Reactor? You do know that could affect time and space, right?"
"It can?"
"Yeah, people from all of time and space could lose one of each pair! It would be complete pandemonium!"
The scientists shoved him downward, and huddled above him. A minute later, after a short argument ending in one of the scientists being stabbed in the spleen, they pulled him back and re-pointed their knives at him. "We might be able to lock onto the signal, and bring the socks back. That should fix it, right?"
"Except for the ones already attracted to the first, yeah."
"Good." The scientists turned around, save the one bleeding on the floor and muttering to himself, and started to activate the teleporter. Smith remembered something from his Physics classes.
"Wait, wait, do it sloÉ!"
"Huh?" The lead scientist asked, and turned around to notice a shimmer in the air, where Smith had been seconds before.

Smith was somewhere else. He appeared to be in a spacedock somewhere. It looked familiar, but he couldnÕt place itÉ
"Pardon me, buddy, do you know the way to The Tesla?"
"Huh? Uh, isnÕt that it over there?"
"Ah! Thanks buddy. Names Rick Brown."
"Brown? Er, whatÕs your station on board?"
"Security."
"Take my advice, and change that last name to something really unique. Trust me."
"Unique? Um, okay. What aboutÉ John?"
"Not much better."
"What about Weaselpants?"
"ThatÕsÉ Unique. But the Captain is already named thatÉ"
"I was kidding. ActuallyÉ I kind of like the nameÉ Thanks buddy! See you on board."
"Wait, you LIKE the name, wait a second. What year isÉ"
Rick Weaselpants turned around, but only saw a shimmer.
"Buddy?"