these levels before when the boys first figured out the puzzle-locks and got aboard the ships, but all levels looked much the same, and that preview hadn’t helped him much.
McMurtrey heard more people approaching from behind, talking. He felt a sudden urgency that they might think him slow-witted, and he hurried to the left, onto the walkway along the railing.
Now he could see that the mezzanine went all the way around the ship, with a circular shaft extending through the core of the ship on all mezzanine levels. The open shaft seemed like wasted space.
Cabin numbers were marked along a substantial wall to his right, and McMurtrey located a place on the wall designated “Cabin 66.” He recalled the screen he would be able to drop to make this a room.
The wall was in varying shades of silver-gray, darker at the base than at the ceiling, with tones that blended with the deck surface. His bunk was folded into the wall, and its location could only be seen upon close scrutiny that revealed fine lines on the wall in a rectangular shape, long side vertical. There were raised areas to the left of this in various geometric shapes. On his earlier visit, McMurtrey hadn’t actually opened a bunk. Now he pushed at the geometric shapes, trying to slide them open.
Appy was calling the names of people who hadn’t reported yet, announcing takeoff at 5:17 A.M., and that the ship wouldn’t wait for anyone. Appy referred to the travelers as “pilgrims,” a description that seemed apt to McMurtrey.
He felt like any other in the quest for God now, his special status having been reduced to a common mezzanine-level bunk assignment.
On one side, a tall, slender woman in a maroon jumpsuit arrived and began inspecting her bunk. She was thirty or thirty-five, with graceful movements and the golden brown skin of a mula-black. She had small breasts, but attractively proportioned, a good facial profile and dark, mysterious eyes. She glanced at him aloofly for a second, and he saw that she wasn’t nearly as pretty from the front as from the side. Her nose was very wide. Still, on balance he found her attractive.
She opened several geometric panels and pressed buttons inside, activating devices in her cabin. It disturbed McMurtrey that a woman seemed to be figuring out the controls more quickly than he could. She must have been there before, he decided, or someone had provided her with instructions.
Her bunk clicked down, and a stiff plazymer-like curtain dropped from the ceiling, concealing her from McMurtrey. The curtain provided privacy all the way around, with adequate passageway around the outside of the enclosure to get between it and the railing. Presently the curtain shot back up, revealing the woman.
Her eyes flared angrily when she saw McMurtrey staring at her, and she turned to face him full on, hands on hips.
“What are you looking at?” she demanded, voice husky.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was . . . ” He looked away, then back at her, sheepishly.
Now she was smiling, a hard smile, but the eyes had softened. “I’m Kelly Corona,” she said. “You’re the Grand Exalted Rooster, right? I saw your speech. Good stuff, baring your soul like that. I admire your guts.”
“Uh, thanks.” He caught himself staring at her chest, thinking how well her breasts were formed. He glanced up.
She was studying his face intently, must have noticed the direction of his gaze. He felt hot around the temples, with perspiration there. He couldn’t take his eyes from hers.
Her eyes were very gentle but mysteriously strong and ever so dark—he sensed layers of emotion and calculation within the darkness of those pupils. Were they brown? He couldn’t tell, but they were calming and hypnotic.
Her eyes flashed, as if fingers had been snapped, and he emerged from a trance.
“I like the way you look at me,” she said.
Krassos! McMurtrey thought. What does she mean by that?
He felt helpless and confused. He wanted to
McMurtrey heard more people approaching from behind, talking. He felt a sudden urgency that they might think him slow-witted, and he hurried to the left, onto the walkway along the railing.
Now he could see that the mezzanine went all the way around the ship, with a circular shaft extending through the core of the ship on all mezzanine levels. The open shaft seemed like wasted space.
Cabin numbers were marked along a substantial wall to his right, and McMurtrey located a place on the wall designated “Cabin 66.” He recalled the screen he would be able to drop to make this a room.
The wall was in varying shades of silver-gray, darker at the base than at the ceiling, with tones that blended with the deck surface. His bunk was folded into the wall, and its location could only be seen upon close scrutiny that revealed fine lines on the wall in a rectangular shape, long side vertical. There were raised areas to the left of this in various geometric shapes. On his earlier visit, McMurtrey hadn’t actually opened a bunk. Now he pushed at the geometric shapes, trying to slide them open.
Appy was calling the names of people who hadn’t reported yet, announcing takeoff at 5:17 A.M., and that the ship wouldn’t wait for anyone. Appy referred to the travelers as “pilgrims,” a description that seemed apt to McMurtrey.
He felt like any other in the quest for God now, his special status having been reduced to a common mezzanine-level bunk assignment.
On one side, a tall, slender woman in a maroon jumpsuit arrived and began inspecting her bunk. She was thirty or thirty-five, with graceful movements and the golden brown skin of a mula-black. She had small breasts, but attractively proportioned, a good facial profile and dark, mysterious eyes. She glanced at him aloofly for a second, and he saw that she wasn’t nearly as pretty from the front as from the side. Her nose was very wide. Still, on balance he found her attractive.
She opened several geometric panels and pressed buttons inside, activating devices in her cabin. It disturbed McMurtrey that a woman seemed to be figuring out the controls more quickly than he could. She must have been there before, he decided, or someone had provided her with instructions.
Her bunk clicked down, and a stiff plazymer-like curtain dropped from the ceiling, concealing her from McMurtrey. The curtain provided privacy all the way around, with adequate passageway around the outside of the enclosure to get between it and the railing. Presently the curtain shot back up, revealing the woman.
Her eyes flared angrily when she saw McMurtrey staring at her, and she turned to face him full on, hands on hips.
“What are you looking at?” she demanded, voice husky.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was . . . ” He looked away, then back at her, sheepishly.
Now she was smiling, a hard smile, but the eyes had softened. “I’m Kelly Corona,” she said. “You’re the Grand Exalted Rooster, right? I saw your speech. Good stuff, baring your soul like that. I admire your guts.”
“Uh, thanks.” He caught himself staring at her chest, thinking how well her breasts were formed. He glanced up.
She was studying his face intently, must have noticed the direction of his gaze. He felt hot around the temples, with perspiration there. He couldn’t take his eyes from hers.
Her eyes were very gentle but mysteriously strong and ever so dark—he sensed layers of emotion and calculation within the darkness of those pupils. Were they brown? He couldn’t tell, but they were calming and hypnotic.
Her eyes flashed, as if fingers had been snapped, and he emerged from a trance.
“I like the way you look at me,” she said.
Krassos! McMurtrey thought. What does she mean by that?
He felt helpless and confused. He wanted to
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