Mass Disappearance

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Want to piss me off? Violate the laws of physics right in front of me. Don’t ask me why, that sort of thing just rubs me the wrong way.

So, like most other freighters, most of our trips were dull as dirt. Ferrying frozen colonists or other passengers and their doodads from civilized systems to civilized systems, stuff like that. Even so, on occasion some wacky crap happened. There’s some weird stuff out there, trust me, and some of it ain’t near to being explained. Some of it probably never will be explained, and is probably best avoided. Like the time we went to Gunston Station. Yeah, that Gunston Station, in the Gunston System. Yes, I know, nobody goes there anymore. Yes, I know the whole system is quarantined. But once upon a time it was a hundred thousand people in an O’Neill set up shop in a quiet backwater system, busily mining tritium by the gigaton out of a friendly little gas giant with an unlikely abundance of the stuff. We were the last commercial transport to go there before the whole place went to hell. Well, I think. Let me explain.

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