Page 53 of Pets in Space 10

The gliding hiss and final clank of the Herikkusu Dansa’s outer passenger airlock cycling open was a profound relief. Considering how rushed everything was, Amalena had been half afraid she and Gaerynx would be told to come back later because the ship wasn’t ready yet.

The past four hours had been a blur of controlled chaos.

One moment she was packing frantically, the next she was trying to soothe a deeply offended Merix in his carrier, assuring him he was not, in fact, going to the vet-med clinic.

Then came the uncomfortable autocab ride to the space station, the crowded shuttle, and a politely heated argument with a gate agent about Gaerynx’s brightly decorated pet carrier.

The agent had ostensibly taken issue with its built-in gravcart, but Amalena suspected the low, menacing hisses emanating from within were the real problem.

Glancing at Gaerynx now, standing beside her, guiding the stacked pet carriers with sullen felines, she saw the same weariness in his features that she felt behind her own. A brief whiff of herself said she’d need a shower before mixing with polite company.

On the far side of the inner airlock doors, an older-looking man in a wrinkled navy blue jumpsuit bearing the company’s logo waved to beckon them inside.

Fortunately, the opening was blessedly wide enough to accommodate them and their improvised luggage cart made of two pet carriers.

The man’s grumpy expression was leavened by the kind lines crinkling the dark skin around his eyes.

“You must be Kirilov and Triplo,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I’m Betero. Glad you made the shuttle. We operate on Ivyar time, specifically Primalum’s zone, not Galactic Standard. I’m in charge of Nav systems, not hospitality, so don’t ask me where the guest towels are.”

The air inside the Herikkusu Dansa was clean and cool, a welcome change from the station’s miasma of astringent chemicals, recycled air, and too many people.

The ship’s decor, however, was a study in contrasts.

Gilded fixtures and soft, textured rosy-red panels fought for dominance with the austere, glass and brushed-metal rendition of RyoGenomica’s corporate logo.

To their left, an iris door was labeled Labs, and another to the right, Offices.

Tucked in the right-hand corner was a lift, its rectangular doors framed in the garish red and yellow of an emergency exit.

“The captain sends her greetings,” Betero said as he leaned to briefly look out the open airlock, frowning.

He turned to palm a wall control that caused the outer airlock doors to begin closing.

“This emergency trip has us scrambling.” He stepped to the right and waved a large wallcomp display awake.

A colorful side-view map of the ship appeared.

“The standard guest staterooms are one flight above on Deck Four. The ship has twenty, and only seven passengers, so go pick whichever you like. Main kitchen is on that deck, too.” His gaze dropped to the pet carriers, his expression dubious, but he didn’t comment.

“Seven passengers?” Amalena asked. “Who else is coming?”

Betero rolled his eyes. “Security team. Late, as usual. They’ll rack out in their area.” He blew out a noisy sigh. “No word on the special cargo, either. This is a complete cluster.”

Amalena couldn’t agree more, but decided it was impolitic to say so.

Gaerynx waved toward the stack of carriers and luggage on top. “Would it be all right if we left our pets here while we find the rooms?”

Amalena mutely seconded Gaerynx’s request by sending Betero a politely imploring look. It would certainly be easier to scout the route first before hauling unhappy cats around.

“If you move them against that wall, they’ll be safe enough,” Betero said with a shrug.

He touched a control on the wallcomp that changed the map to a three-D view.

“This airlock is the ship’s center point.

Decks Four and Five above, Decks Two and One below.

That way is north,” — he pointed a thumb left, then right as he spoke — “and that way’s south.

Yeah, I know, space has no directions. Just go with it.

” He drew a complex route through the holographic map with his finger.

“That’s the most direct route. Good luck.

” He gave them a nod, then strode to the lift and got inside. The doors swished shut.

Amalena blinked at the sudden quiet. “He’s a wellspring of welcome, isn’t he?”

A tired smile softened Gaerynx’s expression as she helped him maneuver their stacked carriers and luggage to the wall Betero had indicated. “At least he’s honest.”

According to the glowing path on the ship map, the north Labs and south Offices sections each had lifts at the end, but the Labs lift opened closer to the staterooms.

However, what should have been a straight walk had been turned into a series of short, ninety-degree-turn corridors that led past a series of six open doors of three small labs and five meeting rooms.

“I’ve toured Second Wave botanical conservatories with a less convoluted floorplan,” she muttered.

The promised lift at the north end took them up one level to Deck Four. Another short corridor only turned once before opening up into a long and wide hallway lined with a series of offset doors, interspersed with fake embedded square columns and a lone, spindly tree in a planter.

“Rhys warned me the ship’s configuration was odd,” Gaerynx said, his voice echoing slightly in the brightly lit corridor of stateroom doors.

“He said it used to be a private touring yacht.” He paused, peering at an ornate wall sconce that resembled a glop of seaweed that had been painted shades of garish gold.

“Traveling joy palace is probably closer to the mark.”

She laughed out loud. “The few I’ve been in seemed to have better taste than whatever that is.” Recreational sex with skilled professionals was fine for a lot of people, but she’d never really been able to separate passion and love.

The doors were unmarked, but lit panels beside them glowed with a number and a soft light. Green probably indicated they were unoccupied, sort of like the banks of pay-by-the-hour sleep capsules they’d passed by in the space station.

Gaerynx opened the door to Stateroom 1 on the right, and they both peeked inside.

It looked compact but comfortable, with a built-in drop bed, a small desk, and a viewport showing the curved metal of the docking bay.

Open doors beyond appeared to lead to a clothes closet and a fresher, respectively.

He opened the door to Stateroom 2 across the hall and Stateroom 3 next door. The floor plans were mirrored, but identical. He went back to the first stateroom.

“This one’s fine for me.” He placed his palm on the green panel and pressed the lock symbol, which changed the panel to orange. If it worked like the space station’s capsules, only his biometric would now open the door until he told it otherwise, or someone with the master code unlocked it.

Amalena walked a little farther down the corridor.

She was tempted to claim a neighboring stateroom, but that might send a message she didn’t intend.

Not when their temporary alliance was the only solid footing she had.

She stopped at the fourth door on the left, Stateroom 7.

It seemed like a safe, professional distance.

“I’ll take this one,” she called back to him. She hoped it sounded casual and decisive. Not like she was running from the simple, unnerving fact that she’d much rather be having a relationship than a temporary alliance.

“Right,” Gaerynx said, nodding. “Let’s go rescue the dragons.”

She chuckled. “Only yours is a dragon, because you put one in the fantasy scene you painted all over Pavrel’s ride. Mine is just a poor, mistreated cat in a boring brown carrier.”

By tacit agreement, they chose the alternate path that took them south by the kitchen to the lift at the far end of the ship. She could see why the ship used cardinal directions. Otherwise, passengers would have to invent their own orientation systems to avoid getting lost.

The south Offices section of Deck Three was differently configured from the Labs, but equally warren-like, and most of the doors were closed and dark.

Amalena focused on memorizing the path and looking for the leftover luxury details as they navigated the maze of corridors.

It was better than thinking about the clench of tension in her shoulders, or the too-pleasant-for-her-own-good, persistent pull she felt toward the man walking beside her.

Just as they stepped into the Deck Three passenger airlock entryway, the inner airlock hissed open.

Five people wearing the gray and navy of RyoGenomica’s campus security strode in as if they owned the ship.

They were laden with full backpacks and guided three oversized black gravcarts piled high with unmarked crates.

Their arrival filled the small space, effectively blocking Amalena and Gaerynx from retrieving their own things.

A muscular woman who was clearly proud of her athleticism stomped over to slap the wallcomp with an open palm. “Security Leader Rishi here. Send someone to help stow our gear now.” The unblinking display seemed unimpressed by her bark.

Unlike the campus guards, the security team didn’t have name tags.

Amalena turned a little to surreptitiously catalog the new arrivals.

A nondescript man with medium hair and skin seemed to be trying to blend in with the walls.

Another woman with a guiding hand on the first of the carts, wearing a look of perpetual disgruntlement.

The other two carts were controlled by an empty-eyed man whose fingers drummed the cart handle and a younger, energetic man who looked eager for action.

They separately eyed Amalena and Gaerynx with poorly concealed disdain before dismissing them completely.