"Let's find some hair of the dog that bit me," Louis muttered. The urge seemed more learned than a bodily craving. Odd. Usually, it worked the other way around. He searched the drawers under the console shelf for emergency medical supplies. He eventually found bandages and antiseptics. No painkillers.

Where was the crew?

He got up, gingerly, from his seat: a pilot's crash couch. He barely had space to turn around. When he managed, intending to leave the bridge and find the crew, he found only two narrow hatches. The first was for a tiny closet that held a pressure suit. The suit looked like it would fit him. The second hatch opened into a cupboard-sized room that apparently served for sleeping, eating, recreation, hygiene, and exercise. The access panel in the multipurpose room's rear wall revealed a hyperdrive shunt, thrusters, cabin-gravity generator, life-support gear, and a fusion reactor. As far as he could tell, the ship had only the two small cabins.

Louis had never heard of such a compact starship.

Somehow, he he was the crew. was the crew.

Every alcoholic, painkiller, and recreational-drug option on the synthesizer had, inexplicably, been disabled. Tanj, but his thoughts were fuzzy! Before crashing from his last fix, he must have jiggered the synthesizer so he couldn't hit again. A workable substitute for willpower. He had to settle for a bulb of strong coffee. He returned to the bridge, sat, and let the caffeine do its job.

This was a one-person ship. He was the one person. So where was the ship?

According to the navigational instruments he was nowhere near anything anything familiar. Twenty light-years from ... he stopped to think what he last remembered. Wunderland. Twenty light-years from here! familiar. Twenty light-years from ... he stopped to think what he last remembered. Wunderland. Twenty light-years from here!

"What the tanj are you doing, Louis, two months or more from Wunder-"

His name was Nathan. Why was he calling himself Louis?

Louis Wu.

That was right. He was sure, somehow. Another long-lost memory recovered from a drug haze? Straining, he thought he remembered an orphanage. And an older sister!

Whatever. He was was once Louis Wu. And since Wunderland's aristos wanted Nathan Graynor, it was time for a change of names. once Louis Wu. And since Wunderland's aristos wanted Nathan Graynor, it was time for a change of names.

This would make more sense if he remembered planning to change names. How long had he been on the pills before he cut himself off? How long until the last of the drugs was out of his system?

He struggled to focus. There had to be a way to make sense of being alone, in a very expensive ship, in the middle of nowhere. The scattered images he retrieved almost seemed like someone else's memories. But that was nonsense, his mind on drugs.

Step by step, he connected the dots. Smuggling med supplies to Wunderland. Shot down. Rescued by the rebels. Wounded during the rebel ambush. Waking in the makeshift hospital.

After that, things got fuzzy. The pills, of course. Way, way too many pills. After the ambush, he had only nebulous, almost secondhand memories. Fled the rebel camp. Made his way through dense jungle to a city. Had the ... surgery?

Another rush of not-quite memories. Louis went to the other cabin and, his hand shaking, found a mirror. He looked about twenty years old!

A rebel sympathizer: that was it. Now Louis remembered: a cosmetic surgeon had helped. That, and given Louis a dose of boosterspice. A really potent batch, apparently.

He returned to his reconstruction. Addiction. Flee the rebel camp. Surgery. And ...

And steal this ship!

Louis laughed. The aristos were leeches. Whatever they owned, they had effectively stolen first. Louis's conscience was clear, and it would remain clear when he sold this amazing little ship-the ultimate singleship-to some wealthy Belter. For an obscene amount of money.

With that cheerful thought, Louis set to work synthing a hearty meal.

Stars sparkled in his view ports as Louis laid in a course for Sol system. Two months in hyperspace, plus however many normal-space sanity breaks he decided to take. Two months and a bit until he sold this ship. Two months and a bit until he settled into a mundane, comfortable existence.

He looked at his instruments. He looked out the view ports at the unblinking stars, and the patterns reminded him where he was.

He reentered his course, on a heading straight away from Sol.

After everything he had been through, surely he deserved an adventure he would actually remember.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS.

Larry Niven has been a published writer since 1964. He has written science fiction, fantasy, long and short fiction, nonfiction, children's television, comic books, and stranger stuff. His books, including many collaborations, number somewhere around sixty. He lives in Chatsworth, California, with Marilyn, his wife since 1969.

Edward M. Lerner worked in high tech for thirty years, as everything from engineer to senior vice president. He writes hard SF, from near-future techno-thrillers, most recently Fools' Experiments Fools' Experiments and and Small Miracles Small Miracles, to far-future space epics like the Fleet of Worlds series with Larry. Ed lives in Virginia with his wife, Ruth.

TOR BOOKS BY LARRY NIVEN.

AND EDWARD M. LERNER.

Fleet of Worlds Juggler of Worlds Destroyer of Worlds Betrayer of Worlds

TOR BOOKS BY LARRY NIVEN.

N-Space Playgrounds of the Mind Destiny's Road Rainbow Mars Scatterbrain The Draco Tavern Ringworld's Children WITH STEVEN BARNES.

Achilles' Choice The Descent of Anansi Saturn's Race WITH JERRY POURNELLE AND STEVEN BARNES.

The Legacy of Heorot Beowulf's Children WITH BRENDA COOPER.

Building Harlequin's Moon

TOR BOOKS BY EDWARD M. LERNER.

Fools' Experiments Small Miracles