Shim’on, who wore a yamulke and wouldn’t eat even cloned bacon.
Groundhogs at core, all of them.
“Check and check,” Al Shei’s voice answered them. “Intercom to Bridge. Engineering reports normal and constant, Watch.”
“Thank you, Engineering,” said Schyler. “Time to jump, Pilot?”
Yerusha touched a key and brought up the official time on her board. “Thirty-eight hours to jump point.”
Pasadena needed flat, smooth space to start from. Thirty-six AU from the Sun would put them close enough to the top of the Solar system’s gravity well that they could jump the rest of the way out.
Pasadena was, of course, a long way from being the only ship starting for a jump point this day, even this hour. A lot of the flight planning had involved logging in with Port Oberon’s flight-schedulers and finding out who else had registered a route so she could pick a clear path and reserve it. Yerusha had done runs that were held up at Oberon for over a week before there was room in the direction the ship needed to go. The delay this time had only been a day. She counted herself lucky.
“Received and agreed,” replied Al Shei’s voice. “Thirty-six hours to jump.”
“Intercom to Pasadena ,” said Schyler. “Secure from free fall.”
Yerusha snapped the catches on her harness and scratched hard under her left armpit. The new arm was a little stiff, but there wasn’t any of the pins and needles sensation that could accompany a new graft. Her discomfort came simply from the fact that no one seemed to have designed a free fall strap that didn’t chafe.
“And there ends the exciting part,” said Cheney, stretching both arms over his head until Yerusha could hear the joints pop.
“I wish,” muttered Schyler, letting his head fall back until he stared at the ceiling.
Yerusha exchanged a glance with her relief, who just shrugged.
“Pilot,” Schyler lifted his head, “we need to get some projections for the Vicarage to Out There to Wyborn Station jumps. Al Shei’ll want to go over all that at the next briefing.”
“Right away, Watch.” Yerusha got to her feet. “Relief,” she said to Cheney as she crossed the deck to the VR station.
“Relief active.” Cheney picked himself up out of his chair and plopped down into hers. He pulled out his pen and activated the reconfiguration menus to set the boards back to the way he liked them.
She wasn’t even halfway across the deck when the intercom beeped.
“Intercom to Watch,” Resit’s voice sounded out. “Schyler, if she’s free, I need to see Yerusha down here.”
Yerusha froze in mid-stride, but she managed to screw a “what the hell?” expression on her face.
Schyler gave her a heavy glance. “Acknowledged, Law. I’ll send her down as soon as I’ve gone over a couple of things up here.”
“Thanks, Watch,” said Resit. “Intercom to Close.”
Cheney bent over the boards, even though there shouldn’t have been much to see. Schyler jerked his chin towards the drop shaft hatch. Yerusha nodded and walked through the hatch. She heard Schyler’s footsteps follow her.
Inside the drop shaft was a staircase that spiraled all the way down to the engine compartment. The walls were lined with junction boxes, bundles of cables and wires, and endlessly branching ceramic pipes, color-coded in green, red, blue or orange depending on what they carried. Maintenance displays dotted the chaos, their readings shining bright green.
Yerusha walked down a couple of steps and turned, resting her new hand against the railing. Schyler followed her a split second later. He stopped one step above her.
Schyler leaned close to her and Yerusha felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. There was a cold sheen in his eyes that she had not seen there before.
He kept his voice soft and relaxed. “I already have one massive problem on this run,” he said. “If I find out your presence is going to add another, I will boot you out of here without
Groundhogs at core, all of them.
“Check and check,” Al Shei’s voice answered them. “Intercom to Bridge. Engineering reports normal and constant, Watch.”
“Thank you, Engineering,” said Schyler. “Time to jump, Pilot?”
Yerusha touched a key and brought up the official time on her board. “Thirty-eight hours to jump point.”
Pasadena needed flat, smooth space to start from. Thirty-six AU from the Sun would put them close enough to the top of the Solar system’s gravity well that they could jump the rest of the way out.
Pasadena was, of course, a long way from being the only ship starting for a jump point this day, even this hour. A lot of the flight planning had involved logging in with Port Oberon’s flight-schedulers and finding out who else had registered a route so she could pick a clear path and reserve it. Yerusha had done runs that were held up at Oberon for over a week before there was room in the direction the ship needed to go. The delay this time had only been a day. She counted herself lucky.
“Received and agreed,” replied Al Shei’s voice. “Thirty-six hours to jump.”
“Intercom to Pasadena ,” said Schyler. “Secure from free fall.”
Yerusha snapped the catches on her harness and scratched hard under her left armpit. The new arm was a little stiff, but there wasn’t any of the pins and needles sensation that could accompany a new graft. Her discomfort came simply from the fact that no one seemed to have designed a free fall strap that didn’t chafe.
“And there ends the exciting part,” said Cheney, stretching both arms over his head until Yerusha could hear the joints pop.
“I wish,” muttered Schyler, letting his head fall back until he stared at the ceiling.
Yerusha exchanged a glance with her relief, who just shrugged.
“Pilot,” Schyler lifted his head, “we need to get some projections for the Vicarage to Out There to Wyborn Station jumps. Al Shei’ll want to go over all that at the next briefing.”
“Right away, Watch.” Yerusha got to her feet. “Relief,” she said to Cheney as she crossed the deck to the VR station.
“Relief active.” Cheney picked himself up out of his chair and plopped down into hers. He pulled out his pen and activated the reconfiguration menus to set the boards back to the way he liked them.
She wasn’t even halfway across the deck when the intercom beeped.
“Intercom to Watch,” Resit’s voice sounded out. “Schyler, if she’s free, I need to see Yerusha down here.”
Yerusha froze in mid-stride, but she managed to screw a “what the hell?” expression on her face.
Schyler gave her a heavy glance. “Acknowledged, Law. I’ll send her down as soon as I’ve gone over a couple of things up here.”
“Thanks, Watch,” said Resit. “Intercom to Close.”
Cheney bent over the boards, even though there shouldn’t have been much to see. Schyler jerked his chin towards the drop shaft hatch. Yerusha nodded and walked through the hatch. She heard Schyler’s footsteps follow her.
Inside the drop shaft was a staircase that spiraled all the way down to the engine compartment. The walls were lined with junction boxes, bundles of cables and wires, and endlessly branching ceramic pipes, color-coded in green, red, blue or orange depending on what they carried. Maintenance displays dotted the chaos, their readings shining bright green.
Yerusha walked down a couple of steps and turned, resting her new hand against the railing. Schyler followed her a split second later. He stopped one step above her.
Schyler leaned close to her and Yerusha felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. There was a cold sheen in his eyes that she had not seen there before.
He kept his voice soft and relaxed. “I already have one massive problem on this run,” he said. “If I find out your presence is going to add another, I will boot you out of here without
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