Lost Era 05_ Deny thy Father - Jeff Mariotte [40]
“And if a couple of human guys wanted to get a drink, pass the time, where would they do that?” Kyle could barely believe he was asking the question. He’d planned to be the solitary traveler, the mystery man, keeping to himself and letting no one get close to him. But now, with just two days of solitude under his belt, he was already trying to force a connection with the first human who’d spoken more than two words to him. He was, he knew, generally a sociable person, who had made friends at bases, space stations, and taverns across the galaxies, so the enforced solitude was hard.
John Abbott looked at the ceiling as if giving considerable thought to the question. “Well, there would be your quarters. And then there would be my quarters. And that’s about it. You wouldn’t want to drink too much anywhere else on this blasted ship because you’d have the damndest time finding your way back to where you were supposed to be. And-as with the crew lounge-you wouldn’t want to be wandering about without the fullest use of your faculties. You don’t know who, or what, you might encounter.”
Kyle could hardly believe what he was hearing. “Are you saying we’re not safe on this ship, John?”
John gave him a big wink. “Oh, you’re safe enough, I’d guess. S’K’lee has no doubt given orders to keep your hide in one piece. But there are those on the crew who hate humans, make no mistake about that, and if you should cross one of them at a time and place when he thought he could get away with it, then I wouldn’t want to swear to anything.”
Having said that, he stepped away from the doorway, moving with the surprising, almost dainty grace that some large men master as a way of dealing with their bulk. “Come on in, Kyle Barrow, and let’s get acquainted. My replicator can whip up some twelve-year-old scotch just as unconvincingly as yours can, I’m sure.”
Kyle followed him into the room, which was at least twice the size of his own quarters, but equally impersonal. Most of the extra room was just floor space, as if John Abbott might want to host large parties from time to time. He did have three chairs and a table, though, with a computer stationed at one end of it. He went to the wall-mounted replicator. “Name your poison, Kyle.”
“That scotch you mentioned sounds fine,” Kyle said. Even in here, the oily smell of the corridor hung on. “A little touch of home. You’ll have to draw me a map back to my bunk, though.”
John Abbott laughed, a booming sound that echoed in the big space. “Coming right up,” he said. “As far as the map, well, don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get home in one piece. Home being a relative term, of course.”
A minute later he brought two glasses over to the table and bade Kyle sit down. He followed suit, again impressing Kyle with his almost balletic grace. After a sip from his own drink, he leaned forward conspiratorially. “Can we talk frankly, Kyle? Because if we can’t, it’s going to be a damnably long voyage, that’s for sure.”
“Of course,” Kyle said, knowing even as he did so that he’d have to watch his step. He didn’t want to give away too much to a stranger, even one who seemed as friendly and unthreatening as this.
“Don’t trust anyone on this vessel,” he said. “S’K’lee let you on because you paid her price, but she’d sell you out to the first buyer who could top it. She’s already got your credits, so there’s no percentage in taking your side from now on. I don’t think she’d put you in harm’s way, as I said before, unless there was something in it for her. But you have only bought a ticket, not any kind of loyalty.”
“It sounds like you know her pretty well,” Kyle observed. “If she’s so bad, why have you flown with her for so long?”
“Because I know what to expect with her,” John replied. “I don’t expect more than a berth on a fast ship that’s largely ignored by the rest of the universe, and I get exactly what I expect. She knows I mean her no harm, and I try not to be too much trouble. I watch