Micah’s first impression of the Caphenon was one of cramped spaces. The airlock’s ceiling was low enough that Gehrain and Lhyn had to duck, and when they moved into the brace shaft, he wondered if Fleet screened for claustrophobics before allowing any personnel to work in engineering. It wasn’t that the shaft was too narrow; in fact, it was wide enough to allow for a landing on every deck so that a person could step off the ladder and let someone else by. But the dark, circular walls seemed to close in and press against one’s back, and when he gazed up the ladder, the perspective made the top of the shaft look as if even Commander Kameha wouldn’t be able to squeeze through. Perhaps the chief engineer had chosen his field for this reason. If all of the engineering work areas were this constricted, Kameha had an advantage over everyone else.
His second impression was one of soaring elegance. When he stepped out of the brace shaft behind Tal, he understood why she’d stopped moving.
They were in a long corridor, which curved slightly as it paralleled the ship’s hull. The ceiling was higher than he’d expected, punctuated by a series of arches that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the entrance of an Alsean temple. Each arch was bracketed by pillars topped with plants that cascaded all the way to the floor, while plants of a different species grew along the curve of the arch itself, hugging it and reaching toward the ceiling.
The doors that lined the corridor were also arched, matching the architectural theme, and also bore plants across their tops. Flowering species of various colors and shapes could be seen in alcoves apparently built just for them, which bracketed large mosaics of colored tiles. The mosaics were spotlit from recessed lighting in the ceiling, while other recessed lights shone upwards, giving the space a soft, welcoming feel. Even the air was scented, a subtle, woodsy smell of leaves and mulch and blossoms. If Micah hadn’t known this was a ship, he’d have assumed it was a place of worship.
“Welcome aboard the Caphenon,” said Captain Serrado. “One of the parts of it that’s still intact, that is.”
“This is…” Tal was at a rare loss for words. “Gorgeous, Captain. I didn’t expect to find beauty here. And I hope you don’t take that the wrong way.”
“Thank you, and I don’t. Keep in mind, we don’t just work here. We live here. Life is too short to live without beauty.”
“Words for Fahla.” Tal pointed at one of the plant-covered arches. “Hydroponics?”
“Yes. Air scrubbers do a lot, but there are only so many times you can scrub carbon dioxide from the air before you eventually need to put some oxygen back into the mix. These foliage plants are better air scrubbers than anything we’ve ever invented, because they work both sides of the equation, add humidity as well, and do it all on no energy other than the lights. Plus, the leaves are edible. They’re quite tasty.”
“And the flowering ones?” Micah asked.
The captain smiled. “Not everything serves a purely practical purpose. Those are epiphytes, able to grow without any medium at all. We value them for their blossoms. There’s an entire bay devoted to these, so they can be rotated in and out as they bloom.”
“How many full-time gardeners do you have on your crew?” Tal asked as they began picking their way down the steeply tilted corridor.
“Thirty-five. And if I know my head gardener, she’s probably having a fit right now thinking about the damage I’ve caused her babies. Every deck on the Caphenon is planted, but if you think this is nice, you ought to see our top deck. It’s a sacrificial deck, outside the battle hull, so we can’t use it for critical infrastructure. Instead we use it as an arboretum and lounge. When we don’t need full hullskin coverage, we roll enough of it back to uncover the viewports all over the top deck, and the effect is lovely. A park in space.”
Micah looked at the plants with new appreciation. The Gaians might not have castes, but they had producers who cared for the creations of Fahla even while hurtling through space. Remarkable. He’d envisioned warriors, scholars, and builders on this ship, of course. But not producers, and not crafters. Yet those mosaics were certainly the work of crafters. The only caste missing was the merchants.
“Are there shops on your ship as well?” he asked.
“No, Fleet ships don’t have independent shopfronts. We have goods and service providers, but they’re all Fleet personnel. Space stations and corporate liners are a different matter; they’re full of independent merchants.”
Little else was said as they moved downhill. The Alseans were too busy staring at their surroundings to ask any more questions, and the Gaians seemed subdued. Or perhaps overwhelmed, Micah thought. As a warrior who’d spent his career in the Alsean Defense Force, moving from one base to another with each promotion and mission, he’d never viewed his housing as a real home. Not until he’d moved to Blacksun to be Tal’s Chief Guardian. But these people took their home with them when they moved from place to place. How much more shocking it must be, then, to have that home ripped away.
And they had done it for Alsea. He and Tal, and every warrior he knew, would probably be dead by now if it weren’t for these Gaians. Most everyone else would be in the process of being rounded up for enslavement. Instead, Alsea was nearly untouched and here he was, walking down an awe-inspiring corridor of this massive alien ship.
He paused in front of one of the flowers, enjoying its light perfume and gently touching a yellow blossom. To his surprise, the petal beneath his finger turned blue, deepest in the center and lighter toward the edges.
“Are you a pre-Rite child, that you can’t keep your hands at your sides?” Tal’s voice was amused as she came up behind him.
“Look at this,” he murmured.
“Oh…how lovely.” She touched a different petal, and they both watched it react. “Is it responding to our body heat?”
“To the electrical field of your skin, actually.”
Micah didn’t recognize the voice and turned to find the shy young weapons specialist standing near as the rest of the group moved past.
“Are you a botanist as well, Trooper Blunt?” Tal asked.
“No, nothing so fancy as that. I just love plants, and these especially. They’re Filessian orchids. I always had one of these in my bedroom growing up. My favorites are the purple ones that turn yellow.”
Funny, Micah thought. When aliens drop out of the sky and save everyone from a ruthless species of slavers, you don’t think about them being children in their bedrooms.
Blunt was full of information about the various plants on the ship, and Tal kept her talking until they arrived at their destination. Half of the Gaian crew had already passed through an open door when Blunt said, “You should take an orchid with you, Lancer Tal.”
“I would love to. But will I be able to keep it alive in a different environment, off this ship?”
Blunt shrugged. “I can give you instructions. They’re pretty easy to take care of. And any orchid you take would at least have a chance of living. All the rest are going to die when the ship goes.”
“Blunt!” called a voice from inside the doorway.
“I have to go. It was nice speaking with you.” The young woman smiled and walked off to join her team, leaving Micah and Tal staring at each other.
Tal shook her head at him, warning him to say nothing, and they silently followed Blunt into the room. But Micah’s mind was racing.
The Gaians were going to destroy their ship.