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.When all they'd had were wrenches, every problem started to look like a nail.A confused expression shot across Jansen's face at that thought, then was gone.He glanced at his phone's display and expanded the window.The machine had tried one-percent of all possible passwords, and it estimated three days to exhaust the entire list.He could wait, he assured himself.They should be safe and sound inside of Outpost Charon.Then a sound like a giant and terrifying water drum boomed in the distance.Jansen stared at the progress bar so hard his eyes began to hurt."What the crap was that?" Hopkins shouted.Marco jogged over to his fancy chair and called up The Beagle's sensor readout.He tapped and dragged at the screen with a particularly serious look on his face."This is weird, guys.Picking up a ton of positron emissions.""Antimatter weapon," Jansen said in a gravelly voice, like an old and salty sailor telling tale of the whale that took his leg."I've read about 'em.Vile stuff." He chose not to mention that the source of his information was a comic book.Hopkins glared at him."Where exactly, Nils? Better Idiots & Jack-Asses Quarterly? Popular Pseudo-Science?"Jansen affected a thoughtful expression."No, I think it was a special edition of I've Been Hiding Spiders In Your Bed Every Night For Three Years.Umm.The magazine.Did I do that right?"Hopkins gave Jansen one of his most rare looks.His eyes swelled to monstrous proportions, showing whites the way a shark does the instant before it devours a beautiful bikini model.Then the expression entered its even more rare second phase.His nostrils flared, his lips curled on both sides, and he resembled a 1930s-era movie vampire trying to hypnotize its unsuspecting victim.Jansen knew he would see that very expression the day Hopkins finally strangled him to death.Marco chuckled."You know.I think you may be onto something, Technician.According to the computer, the dispersion patterns are consistent with a matter/antimatter reaction."Jansen was more amazed than anyone."Told ya," he said self-assuredly."So then, do the aliens have antimatter weapons?""The Oikeyans?" Hopkins asked."Yeah, those fucking aliens.""I don't think so.Wouldn't be much Earth left if they did."Marco's voice took on a grim tone, as if he were speaking at a wake."Then it's the Nefrem.""It could be the Nefrem," Jansen said.Hopkins continued to glare at him."Really? Who the crud else could it be, Nils? Seriously."Jansen could hardly believe how dim and uncreative these two could be.Bullshitting them would've been so much easier if they'd just fill in the blanks every once in a while."Care to do a little math, gents?" he asked rhetorically."There are a few hundred billion stars in our galaxy, multiplied by a handful of planets.That's like a trillion places where life could've evolved.And you think the Nefrem are the only assholes in space?"But yeah, he thought to himself, it's the Nefrem.There was no sense getting the other two worked up, though.Not before Jansen had his gun.Marco and Hopkins began to argue about something uninteresting, so Jansen turned his attention back to the phone, where a notification throbbed at the edges of his peripheral vision.He accepted it, and a command console jumped to the foreground."Renaissance OS 0.86 Beta.0952 GMT.Maintenance Mode, Power On & Self-Test."A huge list of messages scrolled up the screen, detailing all the various systems waking from their slumber.Jansen tried to read the whole thing, but his eyes glazed over and he just assumed things were hunky-dory.Then a login prompt appeared and began to blink.He entered his credentials and was taken to the admin interface."Guys," Jansen said.No one replied."Guys?"He minimized the phone's screen and looked around, but his teammates were nowhere to be seen."Hey guys?!"He heard a ruckus from the ship's cargo hold.A minute later, Marco and Hopkins came up the lift carrying a large powertool between them.Jansen squinted."Is that an autohammer?""Yup!" Hopkins said cheerily."Turns out we had something better than a wrench," Marco added.Jansen shook his head."You two are fucking idiots, you know that?""What the hell?""First.you're seriously using Hop's ideas now? Come on, Marco.I mean, come on.Second, the armory and its contents do the melty thing the instant its outer shell is damaged.You can't crack it with a hammer or it all goes splat.Third.You're idiots.QED.""You restated your thesis as an argument," Marco grumbled.Hopkins fumed, but the anger vanished a second later."Okay, what if we neutralize the process somehow? Add something to retard it."Jansen was about to strike the soft underbelly of Larry Hopkins' pudgy psyche when he realized there might actually be something there."Eh, we have a bunch of liquid nitrogen," he said.Marco understood immediately and his eyes lit up."Like two-hundred liters of the stuff."It took all three of them to lug the heavy drum out of cargo and waddle it back to the locker where the precious guns were stored, and another twenty minutes to jury-rig one of their fire extinguishers into a spray nozzle.Then they put the autohammer on top of a small crate, drew a target on the side of the locker with a grease pen, and got in position.Jansen held the makeshift liquid nitrogen sprayer, while Marco and Hopkins manned the hammer.They each undid their safeties and took a deep breath.A notification light throbbed at the edge of Jansen's vision, but he ignored it.He didn't have time right that second.Hopkins dialed a few settings into the autohammer then set his feet and leaned forward.When Marco noticed the tubby man's change in posture, he hurried to replicate it."Ready?" Hopkins asked."Let 'er rip," Jansen replied.Hopkins gripped the autohammer's handle and squeezed the trigger.A loud bark erupted from the armory's wall.Hopkins released the trigger and looked at his handiwork."Didn't do shit," Jansen said.Marco said, "Hit it again
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