Ghosts of Ophidian by Scott McElhaney Page B

the ship’s observatory. The AI had recommended the observatory because although there were no windows on the ship, it did offer a live view outside the ship at all times.
    “Orna cha kan,” Conner said as they exited the stairs on the seventh floor.
    “Okay, now what about ‘we fix ed the ship’?” she asked.
    “Nocknay doo ee cla la,” he said.
    “Nocknay doo ee kah la,” she corrected him, stressing the “kah.”
    “Hey, I was close,” he defended.
    “Close doesn’t count when we have no idea what we’re saying,” she said, punching him in the shoulder, “You could have been cussing out the Ophidians for all you know.”
    “ Ophidians?” he asked.
    “Ah Fidonay… Ophidian,” she said, “Come on, you’ve got to admit their skin looks a lot like a snake’s.”
    “Ophidians,” he laughed, “I like it. We haven’t even been formally introduced yet and here we’ve already given them a derogatory nickname that sounds like their Ah Fidonay.”
    “I wonder if they’d be offended?” she pondered.
    “Offended Ophidians,” he added, “I doubt they’d mind that name.”
    “Good, then they shall forever be called Ophidians from Ophidia,” she grinned.
    “The observatory is the room located at the end of the hall,” the AI said, “Observatory is ‘stoo konay’.”
    “Stoo konay,” Conner repeated with an exaggerated gurgling sound.
    Dawn laughed, then repeated the word also. Her version was more accurately pronounced than Conner’s.
    “I wonder how long we will have to get this crazy language mastered,” he pondered, as they approached the open doorway.
    “Using the timeframe of a typical day on your planet, I would expect us to reach the new destination in two hundred and six days,” the AI stated, “We will be reaching our maximum speed in about three days.”
    “Informative as always,” she said as she entered the room, “Oh my.”
    The room they entered was circular and dome-shaped. The expanse that was outer space was poured out before them in all directions except beneath them. The stars filled their sky, pinpricks of light of all magnitudes.
    “It doesn’t seem like we’re moving at all,” she said, spinning slowly in the center of the room.
    “We are moving at nearly a third of the speed of light right now,” the AI stated, “When we achieve our maximum speed, we will be traveling at more than 99% light speed.”
    “ I guess with those great distances between the stars, we wouldn’t really see them flying past us like in the movies,” Conner stated.
    “True,” she replied, “Still, it does look pretty awesome the way they do it in the movies.”
    “What will you r kids do when they realize you’re not coming home?” Conner asked.
    She moved her gaze from the ceiling to Conner who now appeared to have been entranced by her. She now felt almost embarrassed by her childlike display of spinning beneath the stars.
    “Chad, the one in jail, probably won’t think anything at all. He’s the epitome of the term ‘loner’. That boy has never needed anyone in his life and it shows all too much,” she said, “Maybe he’ll care, but it makes me feel better right now to believe he won’t. Richard, on the other hand, will probably be pretty angry with me. He and I were always closer than Chad and I.”
    “Do you think he’ll forgive you?” he asked.
    A door closed in the distance. Conner turned to the doorway, confused by the interruption.
    “Are you still shutting doors through out the ship, AI?” Conner asked, reaching for the weapon that he no longer had attached to his leg.
    “I have closed no doors today. I am doing nothing right now beyond adjusting the course of the ship to avoid an asteroid fi eld up ahead,” the AI replied.
    “I heard a door close,” he said, moving quickly to the doorway.
    “The door to the tool storage on this level was opened a moment ago and then closed,” the AI replied.
    “What?” Dawn blurted, quickly joining Conner by