Lost Era 05_ Deny thy Father - Jeff Mariotte [34]
They were, so the rumors went, surgically blinded before assuming their commands. Six eyes, none of which worked.
Maybe there was some sense to it, but for the life of him Kyle couldn’t fathom what it was.
His cabin was as promised-not particularly comfortable, but adequate for his very basic needs. Since the Morning Star was of Kreel’n design, it was probably handy that in spite of their physiological differences humans and Kreel’n were about the same size. The room had a bed, toilet facilities that would meet his requirements, and a replicator. At the end of the bed was a trunk in which he could store his few belongings. The trunk’s lid was flat and could, he supposed, be used as a seat as well.
As in the captain’s office, the lighting was dim when he entered, but after examining the controls for a few moments he was able to override the default setting and increase the brightness a bit. The light glowed from walls that were otherwise unadorned, instead of being concentrated in specific fixtures.
All in all, there wasn’t much to entertain him on a long trip, he figured. But he hadn’t even begun to see the rest of the ship. As much as he intended to keep to himself, in order to preserve his privacy, he guessed he’d be spending some amount of time in the public areas. Maybe they had a gym or a holodeck, or both. A library would be good as well. Kyle wanted a lot of time to think, to reflect. But he also wanted to stay sharp, in body and mind, for the conflict that was sure to come.
He stowed his small bundle and then turned to the replicator for a cup of coffee. It would not, he knew, be as good as the real thing he brewed back home. That was a pleasure he’d have to forgo for a while, in the interest of survival. When he withdrew his cup from the replicator, it was the right color, and the aroma was good. Steam wafted from the surface. He brought it to his lips and sampled it.
Replicator coffee, he thought, disappointed in spite of himself. The same the universe over. As he drank, a Klaxon blared throughout the ship, signaling its imminent departure. Kyle sat down on top of the trunk, bracing himself for any sudden jolts, especially considering the pilot’s disability. But the launch was as smooth as any he’d experienced. He sat on the trunk at the end of his new bed and sipped his coffee, realizing he hadn’t had any solid food in hours. Once they were well under way, he’d do something about that. For now, though, he was content to drink his java knowing that his most immediate troubles were slipping farther and farther away with every passing moment.
He needed sleep as well-it had been many hours since he’d slept, with the exception of a few fitful moments on the shuttle-but his mind was racing too fast for that to be a possibility anytime soon. Everything that had happened was still too fresh. The attacks on him were predominant in his thinking, of course, but other issues, more personal still, beat a discordant counterpoint. Running into Ben Sisko and seeing Jennifer and brand-new Jake, born on Father’s Day, so soon after being reminded by Admiral Paris that his own son Will was on the Academy campus less than a kilometer away, had been surprisingly jarring. He remembered the simultaneous joy and fear at Will’s birth and Annie’s illness. He had fond memories of times with Will, watching the boy grow up from day to day, learning new skills, forming a personality all his own. The boy had always been bright and quick-witted, and there had been days when father and son had both collapsed into puddles of hysterical laughter at Will’s antics and jokes.
But there had been dark days, too, when the pressure of Kyle’s own inadequacy as a father had weighed heavily on his shoulders. Days when Will had questions Kyle could not answer, needs Kyle could not begin to meet. Sometimes he thought his son a completely alien being, unable to be understood in the least. Other times-worse times, in some