John Maddox Roberts - Spacer: Window of Mind by John Maddox Roberts Page A
Authors: John Maddox Roberts
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minutes. It's entirely automated." Kiril thought about Torwald's supply room and machine shop; tiny, cramped, and crammed with the surplus of the Angel's hundred-odd years in space.
They passed through the cargo section on their way to visit the engine section. A car running smoothly on a magnetic rail transported them the length of the ship. At a hatchway leading into a hold, Huerta stopped the car. "Let s see, this is Hold Two. Let me show you the inside." They hopped out of the car and he touched a combination on a numbered plate. The hatch swung open and Kiril blinked at the vast emptiness inside. The hold was almost as large as the one the Angel had ridden in aboard the TFCS. The hatchway opened onto an access catwalk. "There are three more holds like this," Huerta said. "This ship is designed to carry entire colony parties, complete with people, equipment, and livestock."
Across the corridor, at an identical hatch, a tough-looking security man sat in a guard post. That hold was marked no admittance.
Kiril pointed to the guarded hold. "I thought you weren't carrying anything this trip."
Huerta shrugged. "There's still construction going on. There may be crews working in there, or maybe it's not pressurized. It could be dangerous to go in there."
Kiril felt a sudden spinal chill. She knew, the way that she always knew such things, that Huerta was lying about the hold. Something important was in there and he didn't want her to know about it. She filed it away for later. They climbed back into the car and headed for the engine room. On the way they passed a small group of men in silver coveralls. Kiril's attention fastened on them, although she made sure not to be obvious. They were tough-looking and scarred, like the guard at the cargo hatch. They were the kind of men she used to see following Pao Lin and the other K'ang leaders in Civis Astra. "Are those some of the construction people you were talking about?" she asked casually.
"That's right," he said. "They're still working in this area."
Once again she knew he was lying.
As she had expected, the engine room was big. She was getting tired of big. This spacegoing city was just a ship, like Space Angel, in everything except size. Given a choice, she knew she would pick the Angel any day. At least there all the people were professional spacers, which was what she wanted to be. Huerta had showed her a whole infirmary for the sole purpose of coddling rich passengers through Whooppee drive horrors.
"Now you've seen her from one end to the other," -Huerta said, smiling up at a thruster only slightly smaller than the Space Angel herself. "What do you think?"
"It's kind of hard to take in all at once," she said. "It's overwhelming, you know?" That seemed like a good, neutral line to take. She wanted to keep him talking, to learn anything that might be of help to her friends, and that meant not offending Huerta. She knew real flattery would be better yet, but she had never used it and didn't know how.
"It sometimes has that effect," he said proudly. Then he glanced at his watch. "It's time for dinner. All the ship's officers and line officials dine with the director in the main wardroom. That includes me, I fear. Come on, you must be hungry by now. I promise not to seat us too close to the old man. With luck, he won't even notice us."
"Sounds fine," she said. "I'm starved." It was true, she really was ravenous. It had been a long time since breakfast, and somehow she had overlooked lunch. She was also fighting a treacherous urge to like Huerta. How could she possibly like someone she didn't trust? It was an uncomfortable feeling.
The wardroom was a paneled chamber with low-key lighting and walls decorated with holos of famous Satsuma ships of years past. A single, long table ran down the center of the room, and Huerta found them seats several places down from where the director was deep in conversation with a senior officer. They did not escape notice entirely,
They passed through the cargo section on their way to visit the engine section. A car running smoothly on a magnetic rail transported them the length of the ship. At a hatchway leading into a hold, Huerta stopped the car. "Let s see, this is Hold Two. Let me show you the inside." They hopped out of the car and he touched a combination on a numbered plate. The hatch swung open and Kiril blinked at the vast emptiness inside. The hold was almost as large as the one the Angel had ridden in aboard the TFCS. The hatchway opened onto an access catwalk. "There are three more holds like this," Huerta said. "This ship is designed to carry entire colony parties, complete with people, equipment, and livestock."
Across the corridor, at an identical hatch, a tough-looking security man sat in a guard post. That hold was marked no admittance.
Kiril pointed to the guarded hold. "I thought you weren't carrying anything this trip."
Huerta shrugged. "There's still construction going on. There may be crews working in there, or maybe it's not pressurized. It could be dangerous to go in there."
Kiril felt a sudden spinal chill. She knew, the way that she always knew such things, that Huerta was lying about the hold. Something important was in there and he didn't want her to know about it. She filed it away for later. They climbed back into the car and headed for the engine room. On the way they passed a small group of men in silver coveralls. Kiril's attention fastened on them, although she made sure not to be obvious. They were tough-looking and scarred, like the guard at the cargo hatch. They were the kind of men she used to see following Pao Lin and the other K'ang leaders in Civis Astra. "Are those some of the construction people you were talking about?" she asked casually.
"That's right," he said. "They're still working in this area."
Once again she knew he was lying.
As she had expected, the engine room was big. She was getting tired of big. This spacegoing city was just a ship, like Space Angel, in everything except size. Given a choice, she knew she would pick the Angel any day. At least there all the people were professional spacers, which was what she wanted to be. Huerta had showed her a whole infirmary for the sole purpose of coddling rich passengers through Whooppee drive horrors.
"Now you've seen her from one end to the other," -Huerta said, smiling up at a thruster only slightly smaller than the Space Angel herself. "What do you think?"
"It's kind of hard to take in all at once," she said. "It's overwhelming, you know?" That seemed like a good, neutral line to take. She wanted to keep him talking, to learn anything that might be of help to her friends, and that meant not offending Huerta. She knew real flattery would be better yet, but she had never used it and didn't know how.
"It sometimes has that effect," he said proudly. Then he glanced at his watch. "It's time for dinner. All the ship's officers and line officials dine with the director in the main wardroom. That includes me, I fear. Come on, you must be hungry by now. I promise not to seat us too close to the old man. With luck, he won't even notice us."
"Sounds fine," she said. "I'm starved." It was true, she really was ravenous. It had been a long time since breakfast, and somehow she had overlooked lunch. She was also fighting a treacherous urge to like Huerta. How could she possibly like someone she didn't trust? It was an uncomfortable feeling.
The wardroom was a paneled chamber with low-key lighting and walls decorated with holos of famous Satsuma ships of years past. A single, long table ran down the center of the room, and Huerta found them seats several places down from where the director was deep in conversation with a senior officer. They did not escape notice entirely,
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