Lost Era 05_ Deny thy Father - Jeff Mariotte [57]
“Come up, then,” S’K’lee told him. “I will expect you shortly.” There was a barely audible click as she broke the connection. Like most of the other systems on this ship, communications seemed to be operated with fairly ancient technology. Kyle wouldn’t have been too surprised to look underneath the Morning Star and see a couple of sets of wheels there for landings.
But the door opened when he worked the complicated opening mechanism, so he stepped into the dim, utilitarian corridor and tried to remember where the bridge was. He had only a vague mental image of the ship’s layout, even after all his days on board. The ship didn’t seem to have anywhere near the clean lines of the Starfleet vessels he was used to, but instead it was bulky, almost boxy, with a massive, squared-off bow, tapering slightly toward the stern. He’d been told that she could move fast when she needed to but he had a hard time believing it.
The bridge, he knew, was in a separate dome section that jutted out from the top, not far back from the bow, breaking the line of the ship like an afterthought. Which meant that Kyle had to work his way in that direction. Assuming the artificial gravity was standard, the ladders would take him up. If, however, that assumption was wrong, he might be going in entirely the wrong direction.
But he was in luck. The ship’s gravity was indeed Earth-like, and what felt like up to him was indeed up. After several minutes of searching he found what must have been the topmost deck, and then he ran across one of the more humanoid crew members in the corridor, a female with sleek fur like a panther’s, black spots underneath. “I’m looking for the bridge,” he said. “Captain S’K’lee invited me up.”
She looked at him for a moment as if surprised he could speak at all, then tilted her head toward the ceiling and wandered away. He wasn’t sure if she was indicating that he should continue going up, or if it was some form of shrug. At any rate, he was back on his own again, and he roamed through the corridor until he heard a familiar voice behind him.
“Mr. Barrow,” John Abbott boomed jovially.
“Mr. Abbott,” Kyle said. “I’m looking for the bridge.”
“S’K’lee must be having a party,” John said. “She’s asked me up as well.”
“I’ve been curious,” Kyle said. “Have you ever seen S’K’lee pilot the ship?”
“Of course, many times,” Abbott replied.
“How does she do it?” Kyle wondered. “You know, being blind.”
“That, my friend, is something she’ll have to explain to you. It’s beyond me. Just follow me, and all will be revealed.”
He led Kyle up the corridor he’d been walking down, then fiddled with a gearlike contraption on the wall that Kyle would have had no idea how to use. With a soft hiss, a panel slid open, revealing a wide staircase-its stairs short and close together, like the ship’s ladder rungs-leading up to a large, domed space that Kyle knew must be the bridge.
“Guests on the bridge,” Abbott shouted when they were halfway up. Kyle was just able to see crew members, mostly Kreel’n of course, moving about the bridge or working at various stations. The control panels he could see looked much as they had on other starships he’d visited, if a little more primitive. The walls and ceiling of the dome were all transparent and the spacescape beyond was quite beautiful.
Captain S’K’lee spun around in her chair, which was positioned in the dead center of the round room. “Welcome,” she squeaked.
“Captain,” John said before Kyle could even open his mouth. “Mr. Barrow here doesn’t believe you can fly this bucket.”
Kyle shot the man an angry glance. “That’s not precisely the way I put it,” he explained quickly.