Orphans - Kevin Killiany [13]
The Nasat mirrored the nod solemnly, curling its— her—antenna nearest the humans. As the group resumed its way to the observation lounge, she fell in beside Kairn.
“What do you make of the energy source?” she asked conversationally.
“Energy source?”
“Large source of radiant energy.” She took his obtuse question in stride. “Appears just below the forward hull every seventeen or so hours, then seems to fade.”
Kairn considered for a step. Much of this was to be discussed openly in a few moments, so there was no point in secrecy on this issue.
“An apparent artificial sun,” he said neutrally. “It takes just over eight point five standard hours to traverse the interior of the vessel from bow to stern.”
“I was afraid of that.” P8 Blue made a sound like a breeze through copper wind chimes. “A seventeen-hour day will play hell with our sleep cycles and won’t convert easily at all to standard time. We’re going to spend a lot of energy wondering what time it is.”
Kairn was still considering whether this was Nasat humor when they entered the observation lounge.
There were a half-dozen other Federation personnel already there, standing to greet the visitors, but Kairn barely registered their presence. His attention was completely captured by the huge windows. He doubted there was that much transparent aluminum aboard the Qaw’qay’. How complex must their structural integrity field parameters be to compensate?
Kairn did not consider the effect of using his dagger until it registered that the Federation engineers were suddenly silent. He’d meant to work quickly while they were distracted with being presented to Kortag, but the glint of his blade extended before him had drawn every eye in the room. He slowly lowered his hand until the blade was flat across his stomach.
Langk snorted derisively. Kairn saw Kortag’s hand move, perhaps a centimeter, enough to silence the young warrior. He thought he saw a faint glint of amusement in his captain’s eye, but no help. It was his blunder to deal with alone.
The Federation structural engineer saved him from having to speak.
“May I?” she asked, extending one of her hands.
Kairn paused. One did not surrender one’s dagger lightly. On the other hand, one did not wave a blade—even a Master’s dagger—in another’s house without explanation. He offered it to her hilt first.
The Nasat peered closely at the dagger for several seconds, turning it over several times as she studied the blade. The other engineers seemed content to wait as she made her examination, Kairn noted. Professionals waited for information before they acted. He hoped Langk was taking notes.
Kairn knew P8 Blue had deduced the dagger’s purpose when she extended her arm and began waving the blade experimentally before her. She laughed, a delightful tinkle of glass.
Turning from the window, she extended the dagger toward a stocky officer near her captain. Kairn realized he was more powerfully built than a human, with a commanding, aggressive mien: a Tellarite.
“Commander Tev, you are—” She stopped herself.
“No, that can’t be right.” She considered the blade a moment. “Of course,” she turned to Kairn. “This is made to your dimensions.”
“Every Master Craftsman fashions his own,” he said neutrally.
She peered at the edge, turning it so the etchings along the flat of the blade caught the light.
“My Klingon is not good, but this is a scale, and these conversion factors, while this ”—she flipped the dagger and sighted at an angle along the opposite side of the same edge—“handles proportion and ratios.”
She looked around the lounge at her teammates and seemed to realize she’d lost them.
“It’s a measuring tool,” she said. “Depending on which edge he uses and what angle he holds it at, Kairn could use this to tell you how many square centimeters of fabric are in your uniform or the displacement of the da Vinci. ”
She reversed the blade, offering Kairn the hilt.
“Before we part company,” she