The Lost Ship of the Tucker Rebellion - Marie Sexton Page 0,95
was still recognizably her. “There are still many programs I haven’t managed to access.”
“We’re clear to go through this door, right?” Denver said. “Everything on the other side is conducive to human occupation?”
“Yes, Denver.”
The door opened into an octagonal hallway, each side about five feet wide. It was an instant reminder that although the Li’Vin had been bipedal and mostly humanoid, they’d also been damned tall. Faint blue light illuminated the perfectly smooth walls and floor. It appeared to be slippery as ice. Denver hesitated taking his first step, but as soon as his foot touched the alien surface, it seemed to change. What had started as a slip became a firm grip, and the smoothness beneath him gave way to a pebble-like texture. Treesa immediately dropped to her knees to run her hands over it. Denver didn’t think he was the only adult present who had the urge to do the exact same thing.
“Adaptable architecture,” Marit remarked, sounding like she was doing her best to be nonchalant and still failing. “That’s… impressive.”
“And fast.” Laramie stepped up next to Denver and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Wonder if we could get the ship to make it soft. Or porous.”
Spence squinted down the hall. “Why’s it so dark?”
“This is all the light available that is appropriate for human use in this part of the ship.”
“Weird,” Laramie said. “Why give us changeable floors and nothing but low lights?”
Denver forced himself out of his reverie. “Maybe to make it more comfortable for the Li’Vin. Maybe they don’t like bright lights.”
“There have been a lot of theories thrown around Mars about that,” Marit said.
“Theories you can discuss later,” Gru said. “Time is flying, and there are still hundreds of mostly ignorant people and their useless possessions to bring on board before we leave. They’ll be stumbling over each other in their haste to claim the best quarters for themselves. Maybe you want to leave some of the most annoying ones behind?” His lips turned up at the corners. “In that case, I have some suggestions for how to stall them.”
“No, we’re not doing that.” He was right, though. It was bound to be pure chaos. “OPAL?” Denver looked up at the ceiling for want of having any other place to direct his gaze. Unlike the Jiminy, there were no visible speakers. “You said you had access to the floor plan, meaning you know the size of the various living quarters and where they’re located?”
“There are no living quarters.”
Denver shook his head. “That can’t be right. This is a colonization ship, and a damned big one at that.”
“I have located several large docking bays and cargo holds. There are also bathrooms and several large common areas. But I haven’t located anything like a human living quarter.”
“She must just be missing it,” Laramie said. “Maybe she still hasn’t accessed that portion of the ship.”
“Or maybe they’re just too foreign for her to recognize,” Marit said.
“What about a bridge?” Denver asked. “Or a cockpit of some kind?”
“Negative, although I’ve found several rooms of unclear purpose.”
“All right,” Denver said. “First and foremost, we need to find the cockpit. And Gru’s right. We can’t let those damned colonists come storming in here. It’ll be like… like…”
“A bull in a china shop?” OPAL suggested.
Denver pictured a bowl in a china shop and failed to see the connection to a chaotic mob. “I don’t know what that means, but sure, if you say so.”
Twenty minutes later, they could only concede that OPAL was correct. There were cargo holds, half-full of god only knew what. They’d have to deal with that later. There were restrooms—slightly bigger than the human version, but still easily recognizable as such. There was one large room full of tables and chairs, as if for eating. The remainder of the ship was comprised of three enormous rooms, holding rows and rows of benches. It was more like a waiting room or a theater than a ship.
“This is not what I expected,” Denver said.
“It’s like a church,” Spence said.
“No,” Marit said with sudden understanding. “It’s like those big boats they used on Earth. The kind where they parked their cars underneath and rode across. You know. Like a bus, except on the water.”
“I believe you’re referring to a ferry,” OPAL said.
Laramie’s forehead wrinkled in confusing. “Like Tinkerbell?”
Denver laughed without much humor. “Ferry, not a fairy.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly weary. How in the hell was this going to work? “Okay. Laramie, you keep