"Antona mentioned them. I've instructions and a stimulant.
“I put a strip of pink tablets in your stuff. Bollux! And you've only just been in the ranges. It just isn't fair on you, you know.”
“Trag trained me on installations.”
“Trag? Oh, Lanzecki's shadow,” and Amon appeared impressed. “It's not so much what you have to do as where and with what. The Trundies being a prime example of Problem. Here we go. Take a deep breath, girl, and you're on stage as Heptite Guild Member from now on. Good luck!”
Amon whipped the dish from her hand as she faced the door panel, motioned for her to wipe her mouth, and then the door slid apart.
Killashandra blinked as the raucous colors on the stiffly attentive escort of six men half blinded her. The haste with which she was then propelled into the cutter was indicative of the tension she sensed in the atmosphere. She barely had time to mumble thanks to Amon before the cutter airlock closed. Killashandra nearly fell over the crystal container, cross-tied in the center of the narrow aisle. She noticed the familiar Heptite dodecahedron and the rather astonishing large Trundimoux symbol. Even the stamp radiated offensive color. The captain indicated the seat she should take, and the lieutenant tested her seat webbing.
Rather to her surprise, the captain took the control seat, Tallaf sitting second in the traditional left-hand place. The release formalities were completed with Shankill Authority, and the lock coupling to the cutter was released.
Francu was a competent driver, but Killashandra had the distinct notion that cruiser captains rarely lifted lowly cutters from moon bases. Or was this a Trundie tradition? She must NOT fall into the habit of their nickname.
The cutter was equipped with external video cameras, so Killashandra rather enjoyed the spectacular views of Ballybran, little Shilmore, and the dazzling array of small and large merchant craft attached to the locks of the base or in synchronous orbit. Probably everyone was getting in for what crystal was available before Passover. She wondered if Andurs's ship was in a berth. As the cutter wended its way through the orbiting traffic, she didn't see Rag Delta Blue Swan.
The cruiser became visible early in the short trip. It was planet lit on its long axis, which made it seem larger. She had half expected it to be decorated in wild patterns, but the hull was the usual space orange. The drones tethered to it were much patched and dented. As the cutter was matching speed for contact, she could not judge the cruiser's forward motion, but it had that inevitable, inexorable, military look – «I am going in this direction, and nothing is stopping me.» Which, Killashandra mused, was fair enough since the vessel was traveling on a hyperbolic trajectory utilizing the gravitational pull of whatever suns or planets that deflected it.
The captain made a clean insertion into the cruiser's dock, and a moment later the airlock bumped gently against the hull. The crewmen jumped to their feet. The captain, with Tallaf a half step behind, stopped abruptly at Killashandra's seat. Hastily, she unbuckled her webbing, realizing that she was holding up the landing drill.
With a hiss, the hatch swung open, and an incredibly high pitched whine pierced her skull. The noise stopped as quickly as it had started. Outside, two rows of stiffly attentive men formed an aisle from the cutter to a larger hatch. There, more officers, including two whose outlines were female, awaited her.
A snap and scuff behind her, and from the corner of her eye, Killashandra saw crewmen lifting the crystal container. She felt another twinge of apprehension about this assignment. Even if getting off-planet during Passover was vital to her, was this fuss and formality the right environment?
She took a deep breath and moved forward, head high, and stepped on to the cruiser's deck with the dignity of a reigning queen of ancient times.
The two female subordinate officers, Tic and Tac, for she never could get them to repeat their proper names above a mumble, escorted her to quarters, which made her student's cubicle at the Music Center seem spacious. However, she told herself firmly as she was shown the ingenious disposition of the tiny cabin's conveniences, that Ballybran had given her delusions of grandeur. The cramped accommodation would deflate her sense of self-importance to a manageable level. Tic and Tac demonstrated how the bunk could be converted to a table, where the jug of water – one per cabin – was stored, the panel behind which the tri-d was located and the ship's library code; they reminded her five times about water rationing. A toilet facility was cleverly tucked away but easily located by the chemical odor.
The hum of crystal through the deck plates gave Killashandra a chance to suggest that they must have flight duties. She waited to place the lenses in her aching eyes to tone down the revolting color around her. Also, in the close confines of the room, the odors of her unfinished meal were apparent to her, if not to them, and she wasn't about to share. The few mouthfuls she'd been able to bolt on Shankill had only sharpened her appetite.
Tic and Tac did respond to another ear-piercing sound, promising to return to satisfy her smallest wish, once full drive had been established.
Closing the cabin door with one hand and kicking down the bunk were simultaneously possible in her new accommodations. As Killashandra stoked her symbiont's craving, she read the instructions on the lenses, pausing long enough in her eating to slip them over her irises. The demonic shades of the cabin settled into a bland wash. Ballybran had looked so dull to her at first! She finished the food Amon had packed, then tried to calculate how long it would be before her next meal.
She felt the drive taking hold, but the crystals were well tuned and caused her no twinges. She could do nothing more at this stage of the cruiser's journey, so she made herself as comfortable as possible on the narrow bunk and fell asleep.
Another ear-shattering whine brought her bolt upright on the bunk and very wide awake. Would there be any way for her to block that dreadful noise in her quarters?
«Journey speed achieved. Cruising drill is effective as of – now! All officers to the mess. Will Guild Member Killashandra Ree do us the honor of joining the assembly?»
She would also have to do something about receiving such ship-wide announcements.
“Guild Member Ree? Are you in hearing?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” the Guild Member replied, hastily depressing the toggle so quaintly placed at eye level by her bunk. “Honored to join the officers' mess.”
She emptied the carisak on the bed, sorted through the tunics and caftans, found the "sleep!' pills Amon had mentioned, and secured them in the arm pocket of her coverall. Then she changed into the more elaborately decorated caftan and was wondering where the officers' mess would be located on a 78 when a brief rap on her door was followed by its being opened by Tic or Tac.
“Privacy, sub, privacy. Never open my door until I have acknowledged.”
"Aye, aye, ma'am, sorry, ma'am, I mean – " The girl had recoiled at Killashandra's severity.
“Isn't there a Privacy light on this cabin?” Killashandra could not contemplate easy access to her quarters with any equanimity either as a Fuertan or a Guild Member.