Page 58 of Pets in Space 10

Morning on a starship wasn’t an improvement over morning on a planet.

Gaerynx leaned against the kitchen counter, waiting for the professional-grade brewer to finish its noisy, hissing cycle.

Humans might have spent several thousand millennia exploring the galaxy, but their biology had evolved in a diurnal setting, and the ship’s full-spectrum ambient lighting felt like a poor substitute for sunlight.

He had a cup ready, anticipating the life-giving liquid.

Amalena stood nearby, holding her own empty cup, her posture straight but her tired eyes hinting she hadn’t slept any better than he had.

A notice on his stateroom’s wallcomp display that morning had confirmed what the comms tech had warned them about last night. The ship had left the space station but was now holding in a high, stable orbit around Ivyar owing to an “unexpected maintenance issue.”

Finding the nearest wallcomp, Gaerynx had double-tapped the comms icon.

Before Gaerynx could speak, an unfamiliar, aggrieved-sounding voice had answered.

“Betero, I know you navigators don’t use analog controls, but how hard can it be to find the big glowing red button on the emergency comms nexus and press it? ”

“Er, sorry, Betero isn’t here,” Gaerynx had said. Remembering Amalena’s earlier call, he asked, “Would you happen to be Comms Tech Okonye?”

“Yeah. Who are you?”

“I’m Gaerynx Triplo with Amalena Kirilov on Deck One across from Cargo Hold 6. We don’t have our company tablets or personal datapads right now. May we use the Deck Five conference room video presence setup to notify people on Ivyar about our delayed departure? Or at least send pings?”

“Sorry, that’s a red no-go. Comms are glitching all over the ship.

According to my lying-ass console, you’re Betero in the computer room on Deck Two.

The captain says we have to vacate the space station’s hookup now or they’ll impound the ship or something, but I can tell you right now, we’ll be staying in orbit until we get main comms back.

I’m not losing my civilian license for that kind of safety violation.

I warned them about overdue maintenance, but oh, no, what does a forty-year Military Air Division veteran know about keeping essential systems running? ”

Taken aback by the flood of words, Gaerynx had managed a reply. “Sounds like you’re having a rotten day. Thanks for the status information. Could you let us know when we could make a call?”

“Sure, why not? It’s a reasonable request, unlike some others I could mention.” Okonye made a rude sound. “Assuming the backup comms system doesn’t crash, too.”

The trip back to Deck Five had felt long, even though it was just two lifts and a twisty walk past darkened offices. He’d been exhausted, and Amalena had been practically dragging her feet by the time they’d reached their staterooms.

The brewer chimed, bringing him back to the kitchen. He lifted the insulated carafe and poured coffee into his cup and Amalena’s. Whoever had stocked the pantry had good taste. The rich aroma soothed his jagged thoughts.

He glanced past her shoulder at Dhalshun and Toldt in their gray uniforms, who were standing at the kitchen’s island, methodically consuming mealpacks.

They had just happened to arrive at the same time he and Amalena had agreed to meet for breakfast. Since they seemed engrossed in reading their tablets, he put the carafe back. They could fend for themselves.

Amalena rolled her eyes and leaned closer, lowering her voice. “It’s like they suspect we’ll eat all the gourmet chocolate or steal the fancy napkins.”

A low chuckle escaped him. “Just like having roommates again.” He watched Dhalshun flex his hand.

The slashes from Pavrel’s claws were almost gone, leaving only two faint pink lines.

There had to be an autodoc on board. If he ever won the Nove Planeten Lottery, he’d insist on one for his personal starship.

Or maybe just for his personal estate, a place with enough land for an adventurous kulak or two to roam.

If he hired a chef, maybe Amalena would come to his mansion for dinner.

In the large pantry, he’d spotted a loaf of sweet-smelling squash bread. He unwrapped it now and cut two thick slices. At his tacit offer to slice more for Amalena, she shook her head.

“My stomach is finicky this morning.” She took a careful sip of coffee. “I’ll eat later.”

“This whole situation tanks,” he muttered as he put his slices on a plate and sealed the bread again. Yawning, he wrapped his hands around the mug and cradled it against his chest, letting the heat and the delectable smell comfort him.

A subtle smile touched her lips. “I’m thinking you’re not a morning person until you’ve had good coffee. And maybe a bike ride.”

Being gently teased by her was a small, bright spot of contentment. “A fair assessment.”

He sipped the excellent brew and took a bite of the bread, savoring its surprising citrus note.

Raising his voice just enough to carry to the security team, he said, “Both Pavrel and I need some exercise.” He turned back to Amalena.

“After we flash-start our brain cells with caffeine and clean up, care to join me in the gym?”

She took another sip of her coffee. “I may as well.” Her gaze flicked once toward their silent auditors.

“Our devices still haven’t been returned, so I can’t even follow the captain’s orders about the emergency procedures.

I’m dying to find out what to do if the gravity fails or the hull springs an atmosphere leak. I’m sure it’s very exciting.”

He snorted in amusement. So did Toldt, who had been trying really hard to look like he hadn’t been eavesdropping.

***

The ship’s Deck Four gym was smaller than the deluxe gym on Deck Five, but well-equipped and had an effective layout.

They’d chosen it in the hope that it hadn’t been infested with audio devices, and they were right.

He and Amalena had both checked for the extra little over domes while Pavrel was conducting his thorough paw and nose inspection of every piece of equipment.

Gaerynx was stretching his legs on a floor mat after a fifteen-minute simulated hill-climb race on a stationary bike.

It wasn’t even close to riding outdoors, but the companionship made up for it.

Amalena had first tried out the narrow variable-gravity climbing wall, then moved to the gym’s open area, where she was going through a complex series of slow, curved and spiraled weight-shifting movements of a meditative martial art.

He didn’t recognize the form, but she was clearly more than a beginner.

She moved with controlled, flowing grace, almost as if she were underwater.

Pavrel was now settled on the wide, padded bench of a force exerciser to innocently groom himself.

Gaerynx suspected the kulak was considering the play possibilities of the low-gravity climbing wall.

Luckily, Amalena had powered it down when she finished, meaning the wall would stay still if enterprising felines experimented with it.

Amalena’s hands floated down to her sides.

After a moment, she shook her head. “My focus is farked. I can’t turn off my brain.

” She retrieved the water pouch she’d brought from the kitchen and took several swallows.

“This ship’s layout makes no sense. So far, we’ve found four lifts, two stairways, and at least two maintenance ladders. ”

“Yep,” Gaerynx said with a nod. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think our roommates in gray are finding it very convenient, either.

” They’d passed Sypher loitering near the Deck Four stairs, seen Toldt exiting the same little-used lift they were about to enter, and nearly collided with Pivada in the Deck Three labs section.

“And yet they keep finding us.” Amalena snorted. “It’s almost like they hear where we’re going.” Sarcasm laced her tone.

He got up and crossed to the rack near Pavrel to grab a towel and mop the sweat from his neck. The welcome breeze from the exercise room’s aggressive air handler probably filtered out the unavoidable smells.

“I’m more convinced than ever we’re being sidelined,” Amalena said quietly.

“This cargo escort mission is a joke. They didn’t even give us instructions on chain-of-custody protocols.

There’s no reason for two managers — and five guards — to babysit one shipment.

Sainik must think one of us, or both of us, could disrupt his plan.

I’m just not seeing his endgame, beyond that Governing Board vote. ”

“The company announcement said the paper records would be regenerated from backups.” Gaerynx sat at the end of Pavrel’s bench.

“I’m thinking the fire was just a delaying tactic.

Sending us here is another one. We’re like…

unintended brush strokes on a canvas he can’t erase, so he’s trying to work around them. ”

“Maybe it’s because we know those archived records are key to whatever is going on.

Which now makes me wonder, if we were still at RyoGenomica and got access to the authoritative backups, would we discover there’s a temporary problem with them, too?

” Her mouth twisted with disdain. “Completely random bad luck and totally unrelated to the unlucky fire, of course.”

The hope he’d felt last night was fading into familiar, grim resignation. The Governing Board vote would be soon. They were out of time, out of options, and trapped on a ship with a security team that was either complicit or incompetent. Or both.

“And on that cheery thought,” Amalena announced, “I’m going to go raid the kitchen. My stomach is done sulking and now demands food. And Merix probably thinks he’s been abandoned.”

The idea of being cooped up in his luxury room with audio monitoring devices listening to his every breath made him wince. “Pavrel wants to see the lab section on Deck Three.”