[ A deleted segment from Starcruiser Anonymous #20, by Dave Menendez ]
[ Please do not distribute. ]

When you get right down to it, walking is a pretty boring activity.  It's no
surprise, really.  Every day, people spend time walking.  They're used to
it; it doesn't even register on their consciousness.  That's because there's
nothing _to_ register, hence the boredom.  Although one can't discount
hiking, which many people claim to enjoy, few would say they enjoy it for
the walking aspect.  Most likely, it's the scenery or the company they
enjoy.  But without scenery, there is nothing for the mind to occupy itself
with aside from the walking, which isn't very mentally taxing.
	Technically, those members of the Green and Black Squadrons that Rick
Hydrospok had talked into finding Beth Gaelen were not just randomly walking
around.  They were searching.  They had even split into pairs in an attempt
to speed up that searching.  The problem lay in the twin facts that (1) they
had an enormous volume to search, and (2) they were looking for a large,
easily recognizable thing: a terrorist base.  As a result, the searching
aspect mostly comprised keeping an eye out for anything terrorist-like while
covering ground.
	In short, they were walking.  They had been walking the entire day and
showed no sign of stopping.  Dave Menendez had almost forgotten how long
they had walked.  Occasionally, he would calculate it, using his wristwatch
for precision to the minute.  Then he would calculate how long it had been
since the last time he checked.  He made a game of it: see how long he could
last without checking his watch, and then try to beat that record.  It
wasn't an especially exciting game, but it helped distract him--and he
wanted nothing more than to be distracted.  Not so much from the walking,
really, as from the singing.
	"--this is the search that never ends," sang George Daniels.  "Yes, it
goes on and on, my friends.  We went to find our comrade Beth, not knowing
where she was.  I guess we'll keep on wandering forever, just because this
is the search that never ends--"
	It had taken Daniels some time to figure out lyrics that fit the melody,
and he evidently wanted to make as much use of them as he could.  His
colleague, on the other hand, had grown tired of the song after the fifth
repetition or so, and had grown to like it even less as time went by.
	"--it goes on and on, my friends.  We went to find our comrade Beth, not
knowing where she was.  I guess we'll keep on wandering forever, just
because--"
	_If this keeps up,_ thought Menendez darkly, _I may scream._

	Elsewhere, Roy Gaelen and Rick Hydrospok were making their way back to
the rendezvous point.  They hadn't found any sign of Beth, but they remained
hopeful.  That is, Hydrospok remained hopeful.  Roy hadn't been all that
hopeful to begin with, despite Hydrospok's best efforts.
	"Fear not," he had said in an earlier attempt to raise Roy's spirits,
"although we haven't a clear idea of your sister's whereabouts, we can be
certain she is on this ship somewhere.  Compared with our search for the
Blue Squadron, this is nothing!  We are the mighty Green Squadron, after
all.  'Impossible' is not a word we acknowledge."
	Roy hadn't seemed too convinced.
	They persevered, Hydrospok's inspiring words ringing in their ears.
Eventually, the echo faded out and they continued in silence down the
endless hallways.  This portion of the ship was evidently devoted to
storage, and the corridors were long and straight and doors were few and far
between.  Any one could conceivably contain the renegade base, so they made
certain to check every room they came across.  To avoid getting lost or
covering the same ground twice, Hydrospok had brought a large ball of yarn;
its thread trailed behind them, marking the path they had taken.
	Eventually, they reached the rendezvous point.  It was an old room whose
purpose was now unknown.  It's location and convenient access to multiple
levels and sections suggested a security station of some sort, or possibly a
coffee room.  Any equipment which might have provided corroborating evidence
had long since been removed, leaving only the light gray carpeting and a
broken chair.  The walls and ceiling were simple and undecorated, save for
four pieces of what seemed to be masking tape arranged at the corners of an
enigmatic rectangle.  _What could it mean?_ Hydrospok wondered, but these
were not questions he dared to ask.
	"It seems we have arrived first," he commented, noting that the room was
empty.  Roy shrugged and returned to his own thoughts.  From the expression
on his face, Hydrospok judged that Roy was still concerned and resolved to
cheer him up.  "Cheer up," he said, "let's have a seat and wait for the
others."  Roy glanced at the broken chair, and then moved to join Hydrospok
by the wall opposite the main entrance.  "You look concerned," Hydrospok
noted, after it became clear that merely sitting wasn't enough to improve
his companion's mood.
	"I feel like we're wasting our time," Roy explained.
	"I know exactly how you feel, for I feel the same way," Hydrospok
confided, "but we cannot leave the others behind, nor can we walk forever
without rest."  He placed an arm around Roy's shoulder.  "Although my heart
cries out against it, we must wait, coming no closer to freeing your sister,
until we have all gathered again and rested.  You too must temporarily set
aside the search for now--though every fibre in your body condemns you for
it--so that we may search more thoroughly in the future.  Truly, this time
is not going to waste, for--"
	"That's not what I meant," Roy cut in.  "The search _itself_ is a waste
of time."
	Hydrospok recoiled.  "What?" he gasped.  "You would abandon your sister,
whom we respect and admire, to the sinister plots of the renegades?  I
cannot believe that you--or anyone in the Green Squadron--would be so low."
	"I never thought someone could be too low for the Green Squadron," Roy
didn't say.  Therefore, Hydrospok reasoned, someone else must have said it.
He turned to look at the main entrance and saw Marshall Stanford standing in
the doorway, smirking.
	"On the contrary," Hydrospok said evenly, "the Green Squadron is quite
high."
	"If you say so."  Stanford stepped into the room, placed his pack on the
floor, and began to rummage around in it.  "I take it you two were
unsuccessful?" he asked, pulling out a foodstick.
	"No less successful than you, it would seem," Hydrospok replied mildly.
"I wonder--How long will our rations last if people keep eating between
meals?"
	Stanford froze in the act of unsealing the wrapper.  Growling, he
stuffed it back into the pack.  "There," he said, "happy?"
	"How could I be happy when the object of our search remains in the hands
of villains?  Even her brother has no care for her safety, it seems."
	Roy bristled, but instead asked Stanford: "Where's Masaki?"
	Stanford blinked.  "She was with me a moment ago," he said.  He stepped
back into the hallway.  "What are you doing out here?" he asked someone
beyond the doorway (presumably Amy Masaki).
	"Listen," came the quiet reply.  "Do you hear singing?"
	"Singing?"

	"--forever just because, this is the search that never--"
	"AAAAAAAGH!"

	Stanford nearly jumped.  "What was that?" he asked, more out of habit
than anything else.  He knew a scream when he heard it.
	"It sounded like a cry of Ultimate Frustration," replied Masaki.
	"Oh?" Stanford asked.  He hadn't been aware that they could be
distinguished by sound.  "How do you know?"
	Masaki shrugged.  "It's a knack."
	"Can it be taught?"
	"No.  Only learned."
	Stanford frowned.  He didn't feel like decoding one of Masaki's cryptic
answers.  One irritating failure a day was enough for him; there was no need
to seek new ones.  With that in mind, he went to rejoin the others.  He
sensed rather than heard Masaki trailing behind him.
	"It sounds like Menendez and Daniels will be joining us soon," he
announced.
	"They'd best hurry," Hydrospok said, glaring at Roy.  "After all, it
wouldn't do to _waste time_."
	"All I meant was that _we_ have more important things to do," Roy
protested.  "We'll be arriving at Arorua soon.  We may be needed."
	"How sad to learn your loyalty is so frail," Hydrospok said.  "I had
assumed you were at least _fond_ of your sister."
	Roy made an annoyed noise and stalked off.
	("Moderate Irritation," Masaki whispered to Stanford.
	 "Only moderate?"
	 "It's a big scale.")
	Stanford turned to Hydrospok.  "I must note," he said, "that I remain in
awe of your people skills."
	"Thank you," Hydrospok replied, "but I am too upset to appreciate your
praise right now."
	Before Stanford could decide what Hydrospok had meant by that, another
pair of searchers rejoined the group.  They both looked annoyed, although
Daniels's expression shifted into his usual cheerful self on seeing the
others.  Menendez, on the other hand, was scowling so hard one could almost
see a stormcloud hovering over him.  Stanford resolved not to ask about it;
anything that got Menendez _that_ upset had to be pretty trivial.
	"Have you met with any success?" Hydrospok asked.  Daniels shook his
head.  Menendez just grumbled something under his breath and set his pack
against the wall.  "You also wish to abandon the search?" Hydrospok asked
Menendez.
	"I just don't want to hear _that song_ again," Menendez said.  "I can
still hear it in my mind... it _won't stop!_  MAKE IT STOP!"  With visible
effort, he pulled himself together and curled up by the wall, muttering "the
horror... the horror" quietly to himself.  Daniels sniffed and grumbled
something about philistines.
	Why was it, Stanford wondered, that _his_ squadron got the nutcases?
	"What now?" Daniels asked.  "Have we heard anything from Winters and
Losar?"
	"Not yet," Masaki told him.  "Nor do we have a plan, should they also
turn up empty handed."
	"That sort of pessimism is what poisons our efforts!" Hydrospok
declared.
	"How so?" Roy demanded.  "They're not gonna suddenly undiscover them
just because we had doubts.  What is so wrong about preparing for the
worst?"
	"We should spend our energy preventing the worst from happening."
	"And how do you propose to do that?  Think positive thoughts?"
	"We could all try envisioning Winters and Losar finding the renegades,"
Daniels suggested.  He sat cross-legged on the floor, put his hands to his
temples, and began to chant softly.
	"I was not aware of your spiritual pursuits," Hydrospok said, taking a
seat by his squad-mate.  Daniels stopped chanting and sighed.
	"That was supposed to be a joke," he said.
	"Oh."
	With Daniels somehow having calmed Hydrospok, the room fell into
silence.  Near-silence, actually.  "Is someone humming?" Stanford asked.
	"Sorry," Menendez replied.
	"I thought you didn't like that song."
	"I _don't_, but it's insidiously catchy."
	"If you didn't like it," Daniels noted, "you might have mentioned
something a few hours ago."
	"Feh," Menendez spat.  He took a bite out of his foodstick and chewed
sullenly.
	"What?" Stanford exclaimed.  "Eating between meals?  I'll have you know
we only have a few days supply of those."
	Menendez seemed unimpressed.  "That estimate includes occasional
snacking."
	"Is that so?"  He gave the foodstick a speculative look and flashed a
smug grin to Hydrospok.  "Then I believe I will join you."
	Menendez shrugged and tossed him another foodstick.  Stanford opened the
wrapper and bit in with a pleasure he seldom associated with the dry,
virtually flavor-free rations.  Hunger was a fine sauce, to be sure, but
even petty revenge was sweet.  That accomplished, all he needed was
something to turn the conversation away from their mission.
	"We're hee-ere!" cried Sally Winters as she burst into base camp.
Behind her was Stan Losar, who looked as close to being happy as Stanford
had ever seen him.
	"You're looking cheery," Daniels commented.
	"Guess what _we_ found," Winters teased.
	"The renegades?" Hydrospok asked, hope rekindled in his eyes.  Even Roy
was paying attention now.
	Winters's smile grew wider.  "Got it in one, chief."
	"This is excellent news!" Hydrospok cried, leaping to his feet.  "And on
that note let us go forth and meet our destiny!  Green Squadron, forward!"

[ End ]