Mark considered this. "'Screamin' Mimi', off of 'Rip Tide?'" He suggested mischeviously.

"Hey..." The computer said dangerously.

"That's it!" Zan cried.

"What?" Surprise, terror, and anger mingled in Moriah's voice. "Hey?!" She asked wildly.

"No," Zan said impatiently," We can call it Black Fire.

"I like it," Mark said.

Moriah considered it for a bit longer. "Ok, i can accept that, it seems appropriate enough," she said finally.

"Good. We can have the name painted on the ship at the next port we come to. Artistically, of course.

Mark waved aggreement, and, conversation having been exhausted on the subject, changed topics. "Moriah, how much damage did the ship suffer during the, um..." he paused "...confrontation?"

"Minimal damage. Nothing i can't repair," she replied.

"Any idea who those people were?" Zan asked.

"As a matter of fact, yes." Moriah replied. "The computer recognizes the make of the ships, so either they're a people known as Idasians, or they're close enough to be buying ships from them. Which also lets us in on some of the geography around here," she added.

"Does that mean you know the way back to Earth?" Mark asked.

"No. The computer doesn't know where Earth is, so it can't tell us in relation to where we are now. It does, however, have information on various expeditions as well as some on the species' it has come across. Also not much about the original crew. I think parts of the memory have been deleted. What i do know about them, was that they weren't working with the aliens we encountered."

"Who were they, then?" Zan asked, "And how did the aliens get their ship?"

I've pieced together what i think is the correct story, based on partial logs and some information that they apparently didn't delete yet."

Mark and Zan settled down to listen, waiting for Moriah to resume the story.

"This ship was stolen four days out of the docking bay. It has strong defensive and offensive capabilities, it's fast, and it had enough space under the floorboards to install plently of hidey-holes for contraband goods. It was the perfect pirate ship. Although," she added, as an afterthought, "I think the space under the floor was meant for people to hide from pirates in, which is somewhat ironic."

Mark grinned, remembering the one Zan had fallen into. She made a face at him.

They fled the makers of the ship (the computer doesn't give any information on them). They encountered many different races, and stole something from almost all of them. Including those kind aliens we met up with, which got a sizeable price put on their heads. Incidentally, they also dubbed the ship Black Fire. Well, something similar, anyway. It loses something in the traslation."

Zan grinned.

"But then, how was the ship captured?" Mark asked, caught up in the story.

On one of their adventures," Moriah replied, "They dealt with an informer. He reported them and they were captured soon after. All but one were executed about a year ago. The records don't say what happened to the other one. The ship was being dismantled when we came along," Moriah finished.

Mark was silent, assimilating the information.

"We need to make this place a little more homey," Zan said suddenly, snapping him out of his reverie. "Is there any paint on board?"

"No. But i can make some. What colors do you want," Moriah asked, correctly interpreting the question to mean Zan wanted to repaint the dreary interior of the ship.

"Blue, green, yellow, purple, red, white, anything that might brighten the place up a bit. We need to make some furniture," she added, looking over at Mark. He nooded vigourously at the idea of making the ship a little less gloomy.

"The cargo hold had some things we might be able to modify," he replied.

"I'll start on the paint, you go see about more furnishings," Moriah said cheerfully.

The two left the bridge and went to the large cargo area at the rear of the ship. The doors slid open at their approach and the lights came on as they entered the area. They flickered briefly, then steadied at a dimmed level. In front of the two lay secured bundles of cloth, metal, and plastic in varying sizes, as well as some kind of machinery situated at the side of a large enclosure.

"What is this?" Zan asked, indicating the machine.

"umm..... good question. Let me look that up." Moriah replied out of the air. There was a long silence, after which she said, "It takes organic and specific nonorganic materials and makes them into whatever you tell it to make them into. Provided, of course, you're not asking it to change the material itself."

So if i shoved some metal into it and told it to make a chair out of it, i'd get a metal chair?" Mark asked.

"It's a bit more complicated than that. You have to give the machine the exact specifications of the object you want it to creat, including, for example, the density of the metal you're giving it. You also have to give the exact amount of metal you want it to use. That's what that other bit over there by the wall is, it measures and cuts the materials appropriately. Assuming it's working, it'll supply most of the information the other thing needs. Due to a few busted circuits, you'll have to drag it out into the corridor to use it, though. There's not enough power in this area to run both machines. You'll have to splice a few power lines just to run the other one. The paints are done," she added.

Mark and Zan wrestled the small machine out the door. Once done, Mark leaned against the machine, and Zan sank to the floor, resting her back against the cool metal.

"I'm glad that's over with!" She said breathlessly.

"Sorry, we're going to have to push it back in when we're done with it," Mark replied reasonably.

Zan looked up, and realized with a groan that the machine was sitting in the middle of the corridor. They would have to push it back.

They rested a few moments, then began punching in the specifications Moriah had given them. They fed some of the plastic material into one end. The squat machine pondered for a moment, then spewed forth a hard copy, and a smaller amount of the plastic. Mark took the sheet of paper to the larger machine and fed it into the appropriate slot, while Zan carried the plastic to the entranceway of the enclosure. The machine began to hum, and he moved back to the corridor to continue the process.

After several hours of this, they had just enough to fill out their two rooms. They had moved in beds from storage, and cannibalized some of the other existing furniture and equipment earlier. The effect was rather eclectic, but homey.

They painted the main areas of the ship bright, cheerful colors.

Weeks after they started, Moriah was residing on a newly painted and sparkling clean bridge. Zan walked through the lift doors, her eyes immediately drawn to the screen at the front of the bridge. The viewscreen was so large, it was most of the front wall. At the moment, it showed a field of stars laid out before the ship, serene in the vast reaches of space.

"Good morning." Moriah sang out happily. They had redone the control room just a few days ago, and Moriah had been in an effervescent mood ever since.

Mark entered the bridge, glanced at the screen, and enquired of Moriah, "Where are we headed?"

"I don't know," Moriah responded, "Where do you want to go?"

"Since we've already established that we can't go home again, we may just as well start exploring," Mark suggested.

Zan agreed. "Set a course for the nearest likely planet, and we'll see what we find there."

"Aye, aye.... Captain," Moriah answered, with just a hint of humor.

Mark raised an eyebrow, tilting his head in Zan's direction. Zan glared at the panel which held Moriah.

Mark smiled serenely. "Shall we begin?" he asked mildly.

As if by prior arrangement between the two crew members, Zan Proke became the designated Captain of the Spaceship Black Fire.