4.25 Shallow End
(English)
Watching the Jack lift off without us had me nervous.
It was nominally leaving for another system to continue its noble mission of human-rescuing. Hopefully Kemon would learn of it, and interpret it as leaving in failure. Serral and I had speculated exactly what Kemon knew about us.
He had to know the Jack had been asking around about humans. But what more did he know? The crew manifest wasn’t public. He would have needed to request the information through Coalition channels. That would mean asking Admiral Hakho or someone in his circle—which, given how tight-fisted we’d found him, seemed unlikely.
But even if Hakho had cooperated, the request would necessitate going through Laranta, and there was no way she would have complied with something like that without at least contacting us.
Laranta hadn’t contacted us, therefore Kemon wouldn’t know the faces of our crew. More importantly, he certainly knew my name, but he wouldn’t recognize me. None of the footage from Draylend was anywhere near clean enough.
The Organic Authority could probably ID me from x-rays and the imaging they’d done of my body, but then, Kemon was working rather hard to stay off their radar, wasn’t he?
All I had to do was take a new name, and Kemon would never suspect I was the same human who’d fought the Red Sails.
Jordan and I stayed put under Sturgin’s watch for two more days before we were told a ship was on approach to pick us up.
It was reassuring that Sturgin’s behavior didn’t seem to change once Serral and the Jack departed. But that still didn’t stop me from badmouthing her and Admiral Hakho behind their backs.
“You’re petty,” Jordan accused.
“With good reason,” I protested. “We spun our wheels doing errands in Mummar just to keep the ship afloat, all the while putting out feelers. We knew most of them wouldn’t turn up anything worthwhile, so it’s really galling to know someone we asked did know something and didn’t pipe up. Them just shrugging their shoulders and saying ‘it’s classified’ just really lowers my opinion of Hakho and the ones working for him.”
“You’re the one who’s met an Admiral, so I’ll defer on him. And she’s weird, I’ll concede, but I’m not sure she’s as bad as you think she is,” Jordan said.
“Bad as she might be,” I corrected. “I’m on the same page as Serral. I get that we’re poking into military stuff, and Sturgin—and therefore also Hakho—might be completely on our side.”
“But?”
“But you haven’t seen as much of Coalition politics as—” I snapped my mouth shut. I needed to work on staying in character… “—as that one guy who got tangled up…you know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean, ‘Theo’,” she smiled.
“Please,” I joked, “call me ‘Ted’.”
“Your parents really named you after Roosevelt?”
“Yes, but only my middle name. Though…I do have a Bull Moose Party pin back home,” I said, materializing a rough copy from memory.
“Do Coalition politics have parties like that?”
“Ehh, I don’t have any idea,” I said. “It’s just back on…you know where, there was vocal opposition to Nora doing…well, anything. This isn’t my most cogent thought, but I think their bull-headedness helped drive the wedge between me and Nora.”
“Couldn’t have helped,” Jordan offered.
“Oh you have no idea…” I said. “You should have met the first group I tried to teach psionics to. Total a-holes.”
“…Man, you really suck at this undercover thing,” she said. “Keep quiet about that. Anyone with the intro-module is going to be able to translate your English.”
She was right. I could tell who had psionics, so it wasn’t like anyone could catch me unaware, but that was beside the point. I had to keep up the façade twenty-four seven. Not knowing how long I’d have to do so wasn’t helping either.
“Hey, go easy on me. Sturgin’s ‘spycraft for dummies’ packet isn’t that helpful,” I defended myself.
“Really? I thought it was pretty comprehensive,” she said lightly.
Jordan was hard to read. I’d put in a lot of work learning to read alien facial expressions. I’d been out of human company for a long time, but I thought at least some of that learning would translate back.
But Jordan was inscrutable. I couldn’t tell if she was making an understated joke, or probing me for my own opinion on Sturgin.
No, now that I thought about it, definitely not probing.
I had not been subtle about my suspicions.
“…You like her,” I guessed.
Jordan’s silence spoke volumes. I wasn’t exactly subtle about my doubts.
“I won’t have a problem if you disagree with me,” I said.
“She made a really good first impression,” Jordan said. “Kind and empathetic, but strict and definitely concerned for our safety. She shared a bit about herself, and I don’t think she was lying.”
“Anything in particular you’re comfortable sharing?”
“I thought she’d talk about being the lone Vorak in a fleet of Casti, but…none of that. She talked about how most of her life has been put toward helping out Hakho. She’s been his bodyguard, secretary, investigator, and a whole bunch of other stuff. The majority of her life has been spent supporting his.”
“Like an alien valet?”
“…You mean valet?” she asked, giving the word a long ‘a’ sound.
“Valets are car parking services,” I said. “The Downton Abbey manservant-type is a valet.” The former rhyming with ballet, the latter rhyming with ballot.
“Well, I thought it sounded demeaning at first,” Jordan admitted. “But she clearly wasn’t forced into anything, and when I think about it, some of the most impressive names in history were basically just really loyal number twos ready to keep on supporting their friend, even after they were dead.”
“Saint Peter, for example,” I nodded.
“Saint Peter’s was just on the tip of your tongue. Catholic?”
“Naw. Baptist? Anabaptist? Alright, I don’t know what kind of church my parents took me to. I know my youth pastor would say it isn’t about showing up every Sunday…but it’s been a while since I’ve thought about church.”
“Somehow, I don’t think you’re alone in that,” Jordan chuckled.
“Agrippa,” Jordan said, offering a new name.
“Who?”
“Roman guy,” she said. “Augustus would’ve failed without him.”
“Hmm? How about Subutai, know him?”
“The Mongol dude?”
“Yeah. Everyone’s heard of Ghengis Khan, but I’m a little surprised you know one of his generals. You a history buff?”
“I wouldn’t have said so before, but with a little time and perspective, yeah, I guess I am.”
“That’s cool,” I said. “My best subject in school before getting nabbed was physics. When I was still on our A-ship, I did some math trying to figure out our acceleration, and I thought ‘this would make a great problem on a test’…”
“What don’t you like about Sturgin?” Jordan asked.
The earnesty caught me off guard, but if Jordan noticed, she said nothing.
“I don’t like Vorak,” I admitted. “It’s not very fair. And maybe it’s kinda racist, but my first exposure to them involved being wrestled into a cell, and being assaulted for blood and tissue samples. That leaves an impression.”
“Jesus,” Jordan said. “The Beacon’s psionic recap didn’t cover that.”
“It didn’t cover a lot of things unfit for the kids’ eyes,” I said. “The Vorak Nai and I fought on Draylend? I killed at least two of them. Maybe as many as four if Tox was lying about how many survived.”
“You don’t like him either,” she said. Not a question.
“He was the one giving the orders when I turned up near Korbanok,” I said.
“He seems remorseful,” Jordan offered.
“Oh, I genuinely believe he is,” I said. “But that’s not much comfort. Truth is, they stole my blood to try and save the life of the only other survivor. They had a very good reason for hurting me. But…that’s still hurting me, and I don’t have a great way to react to that. So…I don’t like Vorak, and I’ll content myself with the fact that the bias isn’t stronger than that.”
“…Is this an uncomfortable topic?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said frankly. “But I’ve learned it’s important to put up with uncomfortable topics every so often. So trust that I’ll tell you if I want to change the subject.”
“…Do you want to change the subject?”
“If you want, I can keep going, but God, yes,” I said.
“More history then! You know any cool alien history?”
“Yeah, actually,” I said. “I’ve got some Farnata history from a few of Nai’s memories. I wouldn’t call it comprehensive though. Oh, you know what? Big number twos? The most infamous Vorak in history was one of those: Atho Azinza.”
“Tell me,” she said, a hint of eagerness in her eye.
“He was basically a scribe for this warmonger conqueror general. The general gets betrayed and murdered, and everyone expected his army to fall apart. But this scribe comes in, dares anyone to challenge him for leadership. He winds up leading his general’s army, and goes and conquers half the planet, brutally. He’s like Ghengis Khan, Napoleon, and maybe even Hitler all rolled into one.”
“Dang.”
“Oh just wait, story’s not over,” I said. “He would have kept going, if not for a crisis of consciousness. He helped nuke their planet to hell and back, and something made him renounce all his old goals, his nation, religion, even his gender. Completely abolished his old identity. The only thing he kept was his name, so people ‘would never forget his sins’. Did a complete one-eighty on his life and wound up kinda like Ghandi or MLK.”
“Wait, nukes? How long ago was this? Have they just had nukes for a thousand years?”
“He died a couple hundred years ago,” I said. “But the Vorak hold him to be the first Adept.”
“Warmonger turns into peace advocate, and somewhere along the way sprouts new seemingly magic powers? He sounds more like if Hitler turned into Jesus.”
“Apparently he was not alone when he insisted against any religion founded on him. He was a real war criminal before, and he and many other people made sure nobody forgot that. Apparently, he spent an entire year inside a ten-foot ring in the ground with a sign that said anyone who wanted to kill him had complete license to.”
“Nobody took him up on the offer?”
“Some people hated him so much they wanted him to suffer, so they made sure he stayed alive,” I said. “Death would be too quick, and as terrible as he was, they knew he was smart enough to fix at least some of what he did. His own enemies talked down anyone who came to gut him.”
“What was his name? Atho?”
“Azinza,” I confirmed.
“Dang. That’s wild. I keep forgetting that these aliens must have just as much history as Earth and humanity.”
“Takes practice, but you get used to it,” I reassured her.
A knock came at the door to our little shack.
“Sturgin,” the Vorak said in Starspeak. “Did I hear you talking about Atho Azinza?”
“That depends entirely on how long were you lingering outside the door,” I accused.
Instead of answering me, she skipped to why she’d come back.
“The ship’s landed. Are you all packed up?”
“We travel light,” Jordan said, gesturing to the bare room. Just cots and two backpacks with basic clothes and toiletries.
“Then let’s go,” Sturgin said. “Stay safe, and good luck.”
“You got it.” Jordan gave two thumbs up, and we were off.
·····
To my surprise, it was a Farnata that picked us up. And just a Farnata.
I felt the buzz of one Adept mind onboard the tiny shuttle, and could discern no others. His mind was visibly equipped with psionics too. That wasn’t unexpected, but it was also concerning too.
Half of our plan depended on finding a way to psionically contact other planets. Kemon’s crew sporting psionics would make that tougher to hide.
But not impossible.
I double checked the provisions I’d added to my own mind. In addition to the firewall, I’d stretched a sort of tarp over the gaps so it wasn’t so easy to peek at the constructs my mind was carrying. My superconnector was shut down and wrapped in two layers of mirroring, plus I was constantly keeping an eye on it just to make sure it stayed dormant.
We wanted to come across as average human Adepts.
“My name is Win,” he said in stiff, but passable English.
There was no need to hide our surprise.
“You speak English?” I asked.
“Decently,” he said. “I’ve had a lot of practice recently. How familiar are you with ‘psionics’?”
“I’ve got them,” I said vaguely, tapping my head.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Me too,” Jordan said.
“Good,” he said. “Then you know about the dictionary. Just please bear with me if I need a second to translate.”
“Sure,” I said.
“Umm…is it just you?” Jordan asked.
“Yes. I’m a licensed pilot,” Win said. “The shuttle has—”
“I hate to interrupt you,” I said, “but it’s just one person? Picking up two minors from, what, a space navy base?”
“Hey, speak for yourself,” Jordan said. “I’m eighteen by now…I think.”
“Yeah, but come on, you don’t think this is sketchy at all?”
“Aliens,” Jordan shrugged. “No OSHA?”
“More like no CPS,” I said.
I’d told Jordan banter was one of the best ways to gauge aliens. Casual disrespect made them all hesitate. Were we being intentionally rude? Or was this just our normal interaction? Aliens—even those who’d spent time around some humans—couldn’t be sure.
And I wanted anyone tied to Kemon on the back foot.
“If I may…” Win interrupted, “it would be best for us to launch as quickly as possible. Our flight will be almost three days. There will be plenty of time for questions then.”
He dropped his voice and subtly nodded toward Sturgin and the Casti ground crew manning the hangar. “And I believe they would rather no one linger.”
Offering the information like it was a secret…
There were a lot of options we’d considered, but ultimately Serral and Sturgin agreed: we couldn’t be too eager. Not trusting Win would be par for the course for anyone. And if we played our cards right, he’d be eager to earn our trust. Or at least build rapport.
Maybe we could trick some information out of him in the form of what questions he picked.
“…Fine,” I said, doing my best to sound irritated. “I guess a space flight with one creepy alien beats staying here with twenty.”
“Thank you,” he said. “But first, what are your names?”
“I’m Jordan.”
“Call me Ted,” I said.
“Nice to meet you Jordan. Nice to meet you Ted,” the Farnata said, extending me a hand.
The gesture set off a small alarm bell in my brain. Different alien cultures had different greeting rituals. Bowing was common. The casual chin-jut of Earth was actually a super formal gesture in some of the Vorak cultures. But everyone had handshakes of some kind.
Jordan wouldn’t think anything of it; her brain hadn’t borrowed Farnata instincts. And even thought I wasn’t connected to Nai right now, some of the experience lingered. And right now it whispered to me that—while some Farnata did handshakes—this was a calculated gesture based on the fact that we were human. It was the type of thing that would have to be intentionally considered in advance.
Maybe he was just being polite. Maybe Win was just trying to be welcoming to two aliens far from home.
But my gut said it was the first step to try winning us over.
I took the hand with a smile.
“Thanks for the ride, Win,” I said.
·····
Flying with Win was simultaneously boring and harrowing.
In a way, I had to revise my opinion of Sturgin a lot sooner than I thought. If she and Serral hadn’t drilled me on what needed to stay secret, I wouldn’t have picked up on what Win was doing.
Almost every question was innocuous. Hours on end went by, filled with stretching, reading, and conversation.
Jordan pretty quickly picked up on the fact that it was easier for her to take point. She was right. When it came to being undercover, I was marginal at best. Hopefully I’d settle into it.
“So how many star systems are actually colonized?” I asked.
“Depends on your definition of ‘colonized’,” Win said. “The Vorak have ten systems with more than fifty million total inhabitants. The Casti have twelve. But those only account for about a quarter of the systems reachable with Beacons. Most of them are empty, or their travel is restricted. Others have some tiny colonies out in the middle of nowhere, trying their best to become sustainable.”
“What about the Farnata?” I asked.
I felt Jordan’s eyes flick toward me. She knew I already knew the answer, or rather, that ‘Caleb’ knew the answer.
But ‘Theo’ very easily might not know of Farnata’s Razing.
Win lounged in the pilot’s seat, pretending to contemplate the question. But out of the corner of my eye, I caught his grip tighten on the edge of his chair, just for a moment.
I didn’t find myself thrown through a wall, so Win cleared that mark, at least. Nai would have to be teased about that when we reunited.
“We Farnata had five ‘major’ systems,” he said. “But it’s complicated. I don’t know if my English is good enough to explain right now.”
I almost opened my mouth to suggest he use Starspeak. But even I wasn’t trying to hide my knowledge of the language, I didn’t want to come off as someone with as much experience as I actually did.
“If you don’t mind me changing the subject, what about you?” Win asked. “What are your stories? It isn’t every day you meet alien abductees.”
This was a critical moment. In a way, it would have been simpler for just one of us to go undercover, especially because Jordan might even be known to some of the abductees already in Kemon’s clutches.
So exactly how the two of us had come to this point was something we’d agonized over.
The truth, or something close to it, was our answer.
“Pirates,” Jordan said. “The ships that abducted us were just sitting for months, and one day someone started towing us. Then someone attacked the pirates, a lot of us got scattered. Some Casti military found and rescued us. Or, me at least.”
“My story is significantly more boring,” I said. “I’m not from the same ship as her. The same Casti military people found me, and they said we should go with you.”
Even tiny word choice mattered. ‘Ship’ not ‘ships’. Did Win know the ships were sorted by sex? Would he clock the implication of my story? Was his English good enough to catch the detail?
Yes.
“The military found your ship, but only you’re coming with us?” Win asked, curiously. “What happened to the others abducted with you?”
My skin got goosebumps. It was a tiny change in tone, but his guard was up now. Not quite suspicious yet, but heading that direction. It was sinister the way his line of question could change so innocuously.
“Dead,” I said. “Before anyone ever found us. Something malfunctioned, and they all suffocated.”
The truth was a powerful lie.
Kemon would know my name, but not my face, and definitely not exactly what happened to ‘Caleb Hane’.
But for once, my tragic past worked in my favor. Win had been reminded of his own people’s deaths not minutes ago. Seeing me touch on an identically painful topic dissuaded him from going further.
I didn’t even have to lie.
“That must have been painful,” he said. “My apologies.”
“Thanks,” I said, frustrated by how much I meant it. “I’ve been doing a lot better since meeting Jordan though. The Casti were vague, but they said there were more humans where you’re taking us. So I’m looking forward to that.”
“Yes,” Win nodded, grateful for the opportunity to change the conversation. “We’ve been sheltering more than a hundred of you for a few months now, some of which might even be from ships you know.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“The Coalition—those Casti who found you—they let us know, Miss Jordan here might know some people on the ships we recovered,” Win said. “Those pirates who found your first? We found them second. We rescued as many of you as we could, but like you said, they scattered.”
“Do you know if anyone there is named Drew?” Jordan asked.
“Yes, I know a Drew,” Win said.
Jordan’s face was still, but hope shone behind her eyes. “My sister, Drew, was abducted the day before I was. Is there any chance you know if it’s her?”
“Truthfully, I don’t know if Drew is male or female,” Win said.
Jordan frowned. “Why? My sister isn’t exactly ambiguous.”
“Well…it’s not my place to share exactly,” Win said. “Can I convince you to wait until we arrive?”
“Fine,” Jordan muttered, adding,
Oh, excellent choice… I thought. Just like with Sturgin, we wanted to check if we could disguise our psionic signals from Kemon’s crew. An innocuous phrase, on the heels of a sensitive topic, perfect timing.
If he heard it, he should assume she were just being polite enough to keep the complaint inaudible.
Win gave no indication he could decipher our signal, or even that he’d detected it. That wasn’t dispositive yet, but it was a good sign.
·····
The remainder of the flight dragged out in what amounted to a very small apartment. We each slept a lot because we weren’t sleeping well—the ship wasn’t big enough for dedicated bunks. But it was surprising to see Win sleep so unhesitantly.
Was he forcing himself to be vulnerable to build trust? Or was I just paranoid?
No, I had very good reasons to distrust Kemon’s motives and those of his crew. We’d been asking around for months, and the Fafin didn’t so much as acknowledge our queries. They were staying off our radar, trying to not be found.
But as much as I wanted to interrogate Win right there on the ship, I knew I should take it slow. Our goals were clear: gather information and develop psionics capable of communicating across the interplanetary void.
So until we arrived, casual conversation only.
“What kind of food do you have?” I asked curiously, only to remember I already knew.
“Just the same nutrient blocks,” Win said. “Finding what food is safe for you has been challenging.”
I winced. If it came out that Jordan and I had enjoyed real food, it might also come out that we’d been examined by the Organic Authority, which we weren’t supposed to know about. Luckily, I played it off like my hopes were dashed.
“Come on…” I complained. “Those rations suck!”
“But we know they’re safe,” Win said.
“Yeah, yeah…”
I jutted my head at Jordan, signaling her to take over the conversation. I wanted a break.
She took over, listening to Win talk about how they’d been taking care of the abductees the last few months. Meanwhile, I mulled over how good Win was at English.
He wasn’t kidding about having a lot of practice. Two, going on three days of spaceflight, and I hadn’t heard him say one thing in Starspeak. Marshal Tispas had dragged his feet teaching Nora’s camp the language, partially to keep them dependent on the Red Sails for information.
Were Kemon and Win doing something similar?
Except Win knew about the dictionary, so he knew the abductees must be at least able to understand some, right?
Judging by a flight timer on the cockpit’s dashboard, we would be landing within the next few hours. The readout in Starspeak numerals though. One last thing to test before landing, how about?
“Have any abductees had trouble using the dictionary or learning Starspeak?” I asked.
It was an ambiguously motivated question, and I had an explanation ready in case I needed to justify the question. ‘Me too! I’ve had trouble figuring them both out, and I was wondering if there was another abductee I could talk to for help’.
Win’s guard went up a smidge again. It was chilling to know what to look for. I had to psionically watch for a change in mood—and it wasn’t a big one, as well as notice when the muscles in his neck stiffened for a split second while he made doubly sure his face stayed still. And there was the tiniest pause before he spoke, so little time you wouldn’t think anything of it, unless you were watching for someone going slowly, taking their time to speak deliberately as not to give the wrong thing away.
“Some, but no one’s having too many problems,” Win said lightly. “Psionics are an incredible resource, and you Humans take to them like they were made for you.”
“Do you know who made them?” Jordan asked.
It was a good question. The Jack’s crew and I had asked something similar in the psionic workshops we’d run in the past, and answers varied. Most people knew, heard, or realized the intro-module had been distributed by the Beacons, so most people assumed the Beacons made them.
But some read through the journal and notes included in the intro-module to find where I hid my signature.
“A Human named Caleb Hane,” Win revealed. And thank God he wasn’t looking at me when he spoke. I practically flinched. “He’s a human in another star system who fought the aliens that abducted—I’m sorry, probably abducted you. We’ve tried to contact him, but we don’t actually know where he is or what he’s doing. It’s a poor excuse, but caring for this many people is taxing our leader’s resources too. Suffice to say, we haven’t managed to find him.”
Thank, thank, thank God we never ID’d me on the Jack manifest!
For all that the Jack had squawked about being a diplomatic ship looking for humans, we’d never actually specified which end of the diplomatic process we were on. Since I might have a target on my back, it had been decent cover to pretend the Jack only had the Coaltion’s presumptive ambassador to Earth aboard.
Only a select few of the ones we contacted were told that the inverse role also flew on the same ship. Hakho and his fleet had been one of those, but with how strict he was about his own classified information…
I doubted he’d have let that be passed on.
Still, Sturgin and Serral had talked about leaks in his troops.
So was Win testing me? Trying to provoke me into revealing myself? Or just implying that he knew already?
But…it didn’t seem like it.
There was always room for error, but whatever insight into Farnata I’d gleaned from Nai whispered to me that there was a note of genuine admiration in Win’s voice. He had no idea the person he was talking about was right next to him.
But even more than that, I had the first clue about what Kemon might have been up to.
‘The ones who abducted—I’m sorry, probably abducted you.’
At first glance, it would be easy to think Win was giving the same reminder that Laranta had, that there was no proof the Vorak abducted us.
But that wasn’t what he said.
In fact, what he’d actually said was just a shade less than what he implied. Laranta had denied the possibility outright.
I didn’t know why yet, but Kemon and his crew were prodding us to think the Vorak abducted us. And there were only so many possibilities why anyone would do that.
·····
When we left Coalition system HQ on Mihan, we hadn’t even been allowed to know what planet Win was taking us to. The information was classified such that no one in the Coalition would tell us.
We could have asked Win, but in the end we didn’t need to.
On approach, our dinky shuttle rumbled through a dense layer of dark grey clouds, and we touched down on a rocky outcropping overlooking six upright rocket ships resting in the valley below.
The three of us exited the shuttle, and Win told us, “You won’t need the air masks. This whole valley is pressurized by air barriers.”
“Where are we, exactly?” Jordan asked.
“Scozha,” Win replied. “The only planet in the cosmos with open-air settlements and no ecosystem. The ordinary atmosphere is toxic, but only slightly. So you can use air barriers to keep out the toxic elements.”
“Gravity’s pretty heavy,” I noticed.
“But still lighter than what you humans are used to, right?”
I nodded. I didn’t have to guess. Serral had made sure I studied our possible destinations were. I knew Scozha had almost ninety-percent Earth’s gravity despite being half as massive.
“The soil is also toxic across most of the planet,” Win said. “But these valleys are settled precisely because they’re carved through solid rock.”
“There isn’t any soil here?” Jordan asked.
“Mmm, technically there’s no soil across the whole planet,” Win said. “Soil is partly decomposed organic matter, but the planet can’t support an ecosystem. So it’s more accurate to say the mud across the planet is toxic. But these valleys are clean. Casti have been living here for a century.”
“A proverbial century, or literally one hundred Earth years?” I asked.
“Earth years,” Win reassured us.
The six ships in question were disturbingly familiar.
The Ares was the first A-ship I’d seen from the outside, but details had been hard to make out then. Now, I got to see the ships in all their sinister glory. I could see where each deck lined up with the outer hull, and I immediately resolved to do whatever it took to stay out of the cargo bays toward the bottom of each ship.
That looked like it might be easy. Because the ships were arranged in a ‘U’ with scaffolding and elevated platforms running between them. Enormous heavy tarps were strung between the ships, forming an open air gathering area three stories off the ground. Each level of scaffolding looked like it lined up with the mess hall and dormitory decks on the A-ships.
For the first time, I realized that the Jack’s layout was similar. Reactor and engines at the bottom, then water processing and electrical systems, then the cargo bay above that, then working decks, with dormitories atop, and finally piloting, communication, and bridge at the very top of each rocket.
“You alright?” Win asked.
I’d been staring at the rockets.
“Sorry,” I said. “Bad memories.”
“Well, let’s see about making some new ones,” he said jovially. “Let’s hike down and introduce ourselves.”