At first, I was almost disappointed. Everything looked exactly as it had when I had lived here.
The interior of the Supreme Lythion was a ten meter high by eighty meter long shell in which Lyssa could add any non-sentient object she wanted by manipulating pools of construction-grade nanobots. The only things she could not create out of the bots were biological in nature—food-class printers, and the medical concierge panel. But those elements could be moved by her bots to where she wanted them, and rooms built around them. Or sandpits for parawolves. Or an entire stellar cartography room with 3D display that let you walk among the stars.
I stepped into a wide corridor lined with doors that was the same as when I had lived aboard. Even the scuff marks on the floor and walls were the same, giving the ship a well-used, comfortable feeling.
Dalton examined the passage and pointed to the second door down from the bridge end of the ship. “Mine?”
“As always,” Lyssa assured him.
“Mine, then,” I said, pointing to the first door.
“And where am I?” Fiori asked, sounding calmer. The appearance of the place was familiar to her. Doors, walls, corridors—exactly what one expected in a ship. She would learn soon enough that the walls could move when they needed to, or disappear altogether, come to that.
“Third door,” Lyssa said, pointing. “The first time you use the door panel, it will register your biometrics and after that, no one else will be able to enter unless you open the door for them.”
“Sounds good.” She hefted her bag. “Should I…?” She glanced at Dalton.
I turned to Lyssa. “How fast can we get out there?”
“Two hours, minimum,” Lyssa replied instantly. “That’s why I was shouting at Umber. I landed six hours ago. It took ‘em four hours to get around to hooking me up. Now I have to wait for them to finish. Sorry.” She grimaced.
“You should stow your pack and get settled,” I told Fiori. “Then meet us on the bridge in a couple of hours.”
“Actually step onto the bridge?” Fiori said, startled, proving she’d been on more than a few interstellar ships before. Most captains forbid passengers from stepping upon the bridge unless expressly requested to do so. Invitations never happened, though. The bridge was the last place you wanted passengers rubbernecking and tripping you up.
“Danny likes company on the bridge,” Lyssa told her. “I do, too. The bridge is big enough you won’t jolt my elbow.” She glanced at me. “Vara and Darb are both eating. That’s okay, yes?”
Dalton grinned. “Deer meat. Darby will hate that.” He was the only one who could use Darb’s nickname. Darb would growl if anyone else did. Dalton headed for the door that was his. “I want to see how thick the dust is since I was last here.”
The door opened as he approached it and closed behind him.
“Can you dump my bag for me?” I asked Lyssa, hefting my pack. “I want to see the bridge first.”
“Sure.” She glanced at the floor at my feet. The floor surface lifted, as if a bubble was forming beneath, then rose up into a half-meter blob. Details formed. Wheels, a wide tray, guide rails. Ding marks and a corporate brand for a company which had never existed. It all happened in less than two seconds.
Fiori drew in a sharp breath.
The trolley mouse nudged closer to me and I dropped my pack onto its flat surface, between the guide rails. The trolley trundled toward the door that was for my room. The door opened for it and shut silently.
Fiori squeezed the straps of her pack. “Well…” She glanced at me.
“Relax,” I said. “You’re in very good hands.”
Fiori nodded and headed for the third door and I turned in the direction of the bridge. Lyssa had already sunk into the floor. It was quicker for her to rebuild herself on the bridge…but I was suddenly glad that Fiori hadn’t seen that. She was already close to being unnerved by the oddities of the Lythion.
I moved up the passage and around the left-turning corner, which would take me to the short ramp up to the bridge, in the middle of the ship. On the other side of the corridor from the ramp was a wider door than those for our rooms, and I smiled.
Lyssa had rebuilt the diner for us, too.
When Lyth had been the shipmind, he’d built an ancient Terran diner which had become our off-time place of relaxation, as well as our dining room.
A long, cold drink with a featherweight kick would go over right now. My throat contracted longingly. Or a bowl of ice cream with warm caramel sauce…
I drew in a slow, calming breath as the thought of ice cream and caramel sauce conjured up a sudden, detailed image of Varg in my mind, her nose in a bowl of the sticky stuff. Varg had loved ice cream and caramel sauce. She had been a part of my life for a very long time and I missed her. But she had lived a full life and an extraordinarily long one for a parawolf. She had even managed to flummox her creators by having off-spring. Her pups were enriching our lives still. There were humans who couldn’t claim that much, despite living centuries longer.
I turned right and strode up the ramp to the bridge with determined steps. Lyssa was already there and gave me a small smile. “Departure in fifty-seven minutes, Colonel.”
I glanced over my shoulder as heavy spacer boots sounded on the bridge ramp and wasn’t surprised to see Dalton. He glanced around the bridge with curiosity. “Nothing’s changed.”
“Not up here,” Lyssa admitted. “I did have to replace the inertia shell you used to use. It wore out.” Her smile was teasing.
Dalton snorted. “Cheap crush juice—last time I’ll make that mistake.”
“I guess it’s not an issue now,” I said and couldn’t help but glance at the back of his right hand. There had once been a red, curved and lumpy scar there that not even the best cosmetic therapies could remove—not that he had been able to afford any cosmetic therapy when he’d had it. The scar was no longer there because this wasn’t his original body. It was a clone that had not had its hand clamped in a vice as a medieval form of persuasion.
Clone rejuvenation was slowly becoming an economically viable option, thanks to the work that Lyth and Laxman were doing with the Laxman Institute, but when Dalton had received his new body, it had been expensive beyond belief. I knew precisely how expensive it had been because I had picked up the tab.
“Did the cheap crush juice have long term effects, then?” Lyssa asked Dalton curiously, proving that she had been thinking along the same lines as me.
Dalton shrugged. “Aches and pains. Nothing I could point to and say ‘that hurts’. Just low-grade discomfort.”
I’d seen him try to get up from the bed in the mornings and would rank it higher than low-grade discomfort, but I kept my mouth shut. The conversation we’d put aside was crowding my thoughts and I didn’t want to open it up again. Not right now.
A small silence settled between us, while the systems on the bridge hummed softly around it. Lyssa was prepping the ship even as she stood with us, so we could seal up and jump away the moment the resupply was finished.
“I need coffee,” I lied and moved back to the exit. I could hide out in the diner until dust off.
“Me, too,” Dalton decided and followed me.
Fuck.