Lost Era 05_ Deny thy Father - Jeff Mariotte [58]
S’K’lee made her laughing noise again, long and loud. “Visiting a museum once, when I was much younger, I put on a special helmet that reputedly approximated the visual acuity of humans,” she said when she had brought her laughter under control. “I was astonished that you even think you can see. By our standards, you’re quite blind yourself, even at your optimum.”
She could be right, he supposed. With six eyes ringing half their heads, at the very least a Kreel’n’s field of vision would be much greater. And he supposed there could be advantages to depth perception, possibly making them more adept at judging distances, and maybe better able to shift from close to distant focus.
“Even so,” he said. “At least I can look out the viewscreen and see what’s ahead of me.” John Abbott, he noted, stood by silently, occasionally nodding to himself. He’d heard all this before.
“Your way of seeing-even our way-just gets in the way when doing complicated flying,” S’K’lee said. “My ship’s instruments tell me everything I need to know. In a tricky situation, the momentary gap between perception and response could be fatal, if I relied on my vision. But when I rely on the ship’s perceptions and responses, the possibility of error is all but eliminated. Seeing would only endanger the ship and crew, making me more likely to trust my own senses instead of my instruments, if they should be at odds. Hence, the blinding procedure.”
“Still,” Kyle said. “If the ship’s crew can see, it must be a bit harrowing to them when you’re at the helm in a tight spot.”
S’K’lee fixed some of her dead black eyes on him as if she were looking at him. “They trust,” she said simply. “They trust.”
Kyle glanced about at the ship’s officers, going about their routines now. They looked capable enough, and he’d had no problems with S’K’lee’s flying when they left the space station. And certainly in his years, he’d encountered much stranger things. “Thank you,” he said. “For the explanation.”
“I’m afraid I have something else to explain to you,” S’K’lee said. Kyle was no expert, but the tone of her scratchy, squealy voice seemed to have changed a little. He couldn’t make out what this change might signify, though.
“What is it?”
“You can’t see it,” S’K’lee said with a grimace that Kyle took to be a smile, “because it’s beneath us just now. But we’ve been hailed by a Starfleet ship-the LaSalle, I believe its captain said it was.”
Kyle felt his heart slam against his ribcage like a wild beast vying for release. Suddenly dizzy, he reached for the nearest control podium and held on for support. Hoping no one had noticed, he glanced over at John Abbott, who still watched S’K’lee, apparently unconcerned.
“Hailed?” Kyle managed to croak out. “Why?”
“According to its captain, we’re harboring a fugitive,” S’K’lee said. “I, of course, told them we were doing no such thing and invited them to beam aboard and search us if they chose.”
“And their response?” John asked.
“They’ll have a security squad here in ten minutes,” S’K’lee replied. “I stalled them for a while, but I thought it best to warn you both. Just in case.”
“I’m sure it’s some kind of mistake,” John said.
“Of course,” S’K’lee agreed.
“I’ll return to my cabin, then.”
“As you wish,” S’K’lee told him. “And you, Mr. Barrow?”
“I… uh, I’ll do the same,” Kyle said. He felt like his world was turning upside down, like the temporary sense of security he had enjoyed had been suddenly shattered. In a blurry haze, he followed John Abbott off the bridge and down a succession of ladders. Finally, John looked back at him, as if surprised to see that he was still there.
“You passed your deck a while back, Barrow,” he said abruptly. He seemed a bit winded now, though Kyle thought that might have been because he’d been hurrying down ladders barely wide enough for his bulk.
“Oh,” Kyle said dumbly. “I… I guess I lost count.”
“Got you a bit nervous?” John asked with a grin.
“Well, you know. The idea