clicked. " Come on!"
Floyt straightened. "No, really. No more, I beg of you; I'll tell you where my unit is located, you fiend."
Alacrity was happily strafing his tray. " Your problem is you haven't tasted this spew-up without the file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (54 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:29
[Fitzhugh 2]-JINX ON A TERRAN INHERITANCE
sauce."
Their tour of Pihoquiaq put Floyt in mind of a crawl through a kids' play-fort. There were only three places with no excess cargo stowed in them: the head, power section, and bridge, the last of which Alacrity, like most breakabouts, referred to as the Fuckup Factory.
Even the ship's escape capsule was packed, hardly leaving room for three bodies. Alacrity couldn't really fault that, though, since most of the stuff was food concentrates and other emergency supplies.
Amarok dogged their track for a while, but he was reassured by Alacrity's brisk, spacemanlike manner.
When the Innuit was content that Alacrity knew his way around a monitor, he left the two friends to their own devices.
The bridge was located in the turretlike roundhouse. It was still a two-seat affair, despite all the automation, but nevertheless too confined for even Floyt to stand upright.
It offered a feeling of space, however; Amarok had left the forward viewports uncovered. They looked out at an infinite nullity. Floyt was never quite sure what it was he was seeing, though at times it seemed to suggest parts of the causality harp. He did know that none of those images registered on cameras or any other image-recording device.
The head, a mere stall combining several functions, was cramped for Floyt, torturous for someone the size of Alacrity or Amarok. Monitors had originally been designed for a crew of six, and nobody had been lavish with living arrangements.
The power section had been decorated with incised angat-kua, ritual images, Quaanaaq-Thule style.
There was standing room and more; even the profit-fixated Amarok didn't dare block access to various systemry and the Hawking Effect generator.
It was the first one Floyt had ever seen, a wide cylindrical metal casing standing almost as tall as himself, painted who-cares green.
Alacrity took hold of one of the housing's grab irons, put his foot on a step, and hauled himself up to an imaging scope. The light from it made a faint bandit's mask across his face.
He descended again, making way for Floyt. "Want a look?"
Alacrity helped with the scope controls. Floyt had heard Alacrity refer to the "chandelier guts" of a Hawking generator. The scope's image of this one looked more to Floyt like an incandescent carousel of strung light, difficult to focus on for long.
It was hard for him to believe that this was—for humans and many of the nonhuman races, at any rate—
file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (55 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:29
[Fitzhugh 2]-JINX ON A TERRAN INHERITANCE
the key to fast superlight travel among the stars. He felt overawed and disappointed at the same time.
Floyt pulled back from the scope to look around the rather grubby power section. "And it's just, just here like this? Where anyone could tamper with it? What if somebody bungles, or something?"
"What happens if you decide to stroll out a five-hundredth-story window?"
"Mmm."
"Only, in this case, it happens to everybody inboard." Alacrity checked the readings on the casing's instrumentation, which were also patched through to the Fuckup Factory.
"On a military vessel, a good one, the Hawking and its backup—which we haven't got one of—are usually a No Lone Zone, Deadly Force Used. In a one-man circus like Pihoquiaq, things get pretty casual. Don't let it bother you though; it looks like he takes good care of this crate."
"No, it's not that. I was just thinking; there's plenty of headroom in here."
"Only place in the ship. So
Floyt straightened. "No, really. No more, I beg of you; I'll tell you where my unit is located, you fiend."
Alacrity was happily strafing his tray. " Your problem is you haven't tasted this spew-up without the file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (54 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:29
[Fitzhugh 2]-JINX ON A TERRAN INHERITANCE
sauce."
Their tour of Pihoquiaq put Floyt in mind of a crawl through a kids' play-fort. There were only three places with no excess cargo stowed in them: the head, power section, and bridge, the last of which Alacrity, like most breakabouts, referred to as the Fuckup Factory.
Even the ship's escape capsule was packed, hardly leaving room for three bodies. Alacrity couldn't really fault that, though, since most of the stuff was food concentrates and other emergency supplies.
Amarok dogged their track for a while, but he was reassured by Alacrity's brisk, spacemanlike manner.
When the Innuit was content that Alacrity knew his way around a monitor, he left the two friends to their own devices.
The bridge was located in the turretlike roundhouse. It was still a two-seat affair, despite all the automation, but nevertheless too confined for even Floyt to stand upright.
It offered a feeling of space, however; Amarok had left the forward viewports uncovered. They looked out at an infinite nullity. Floyt was never quite sure what it was he was seeing, though at times it seemed to suggest parts of the causality harp. He did know that none of those images registered on cameras or any other image-recording device.
The head, a mere stall combining several functions, was cramped for Floyt, torturous for someone the size of Alacrity or Amarok. Monitors had originally been designed for a crew of six, and nobody had been lavish with living arrangements.
The power section had been decorated with incised angat-kua, ritual images, Quaanaaq-Thule style.
There was standing room and more; even the profit-fixated Amarok didn't dare block access to various systemry and the Hawking Effect generator.
It was the first one Floyt had ever seen, a wide cylindrical metal casing standing almost as tall as himself, painted who-cares green.
Alacrity took hold of one of the housing's grab irons, put his foot on a step, and hauled himself up to an imaging scope. The light from it made a faint bandit's mask across his face.
He descended again, making way for Floyt. "Want a look?"
Alacrity helped with the scope controls. Floyt had heard Alacrity refer to the "chandelier guts" of a Hawking generator. The scope's image of this one looked more to Floyt like an incandescent carousel of strung light, difficult to focus on for long.
It was hard for him to believe that this was—for humans and many of the nonhuman races, at any rate—
file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (55 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:29
[Fitzhugh 2]-JINX ON A TERRAN INHERITANCE
the key to fast superlight travel among the stars. He felt overawed and disappointed at the same time.
Floyt pulled back from the scope to look around the rather grubby power section. "And it's just, just here like this? Where anyone could tamper with it? What if somebody bungles, or something?"
"What happens if you decide to stroll out a five-hundredth-story window?"
"Mmm."
"Only, in this case, it happens to everybody inboard." Alacrity checked the readings on the casing's instrumentation, which were also patched through to the Fuckup Factory.
"On a military vessel, a good one, the Hawking and its backup—which we haven't got one of—are usually a No Lone Zone, Deadly Force Used. In a one-man circus like Pihoquiaq, things get pretty casual. Don't let it bother you though; it looks like he takes good care of this crate."
"No, it's not that. I was just thinking; there's plenty of headroom in here."
"Only place in the ship. So
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