Brightly Burning(15)
“Officer Xiao?” I asked as we walked, remembering my query from the early hours of the morning. “Last night I thought I heard someone laughing outside my room. Do you know what that might have been?”
“Someone laughing? Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “I’m sure if you heard anything, it was just one of the cats or something.”
“I’m sorry, did you say cats?”
We turned right, down a shorter hallway, then left. “Oh, yes,” Xiao said. “Call it a quirk of the Fairfax family. The first generation aboard this ship brought their cats, and we’ve had them ever since. They’re harmless, I assure you. Friendly, even, if you’re their sort of person.”
It had been many years since I’d encountered a housecat, but I was sure they couldn’t laugh.
We arrived at a hatch door that looked no different from any other—?how would I ever find my way around this place?—?but when Officer Xiao pressed the button to open it, its function was clear. It was the ship’s mess hall, writ small. A table about eight feet in length and several feet across was bolted to the floor in the center of the room, with ten swiveling, padded seats lining each side and bookending the heads of the table. Directly across from the door was another magnificent window, the moon blooming in the panel’s right-hand corner. We were so close, I could make out details of individual craters.
If my eyes were overwhelmed, it was nothing compared to the onslaught my other senses faced. I breathed in the scent of food, practically tasting it on my tongue. My mouth watered. There was oatmeal, real buttered toast, soy bacon, sautéed tomatoes, baked beans, and my beloved tea, to cap it all off. We had had spreads like this on the Empire, but I never imagined I’d see one again. I didn’t wait for Officer Xiao’s permission to grab a plate, and she didn’t object. Indeed, she took a seat at the head of the table and nibbled on some toast.
“Jessa likes to sleep in, and we don’t press her about it, given her age,” she said. “You’ll meet her a bit later. Otherwise, the captain prefers we all keep to a strict schedule as outlined to you last night. Lights are out and everyone must be in their private quarters at twenty-two hundred hours.”
“Will I meet the captain later too?” I asked between mouthfuls of beans and toast. I imagined a man Xiao’s age, with a weathered face and imposing manner. My new boss.
“Oh, no, he’s currently off-ship. You’ll find he spends a good amount of time away.”
The dining room door slid open, making me jump. In limped a middle-aged woman with messy, graying hair stubbornly curling out of a tight bun atop her head. Her clothes were less formal than mine and Officer Xiao’s, more akin to what I had worn aboard the Stalwart, black and gray slick fabrics with many hidden zips and pockets. Following close behind her was a tall, dark-skinned man in a navy uniform who peered quizzically at me from behind rectangular spectacles.
“Good morning,” Xiao greeted them. “This is Stella Ainsley, the new governess and auxiliary engineering support.” She turned to me, first indicating the woman. “Lieutenant Poole is our primary engineer, so you’ll be assisting her on occasion with ship repairs.”
Lieutenant Poole grunted a response, looking me up and down and seeming to find me inadequate. She pawed four slices of toast onto a plate, spooned a heap of beans beside it, stuck two pieces of soy bacon in her mouth, and left.
The man laughed, taking a seat to my left and extending his hand to me. “I’m Orion Carmichael, Rochester’s Chief Technical Officer. Grace can be a bit . . . brisk,” he said by way of explanation.
“But you’ll find she’s excellent at her job,” Xiao interjected. “Give her a wide berth, and she’ll give you the same.”
“How many crew are there on board?” I asked.
“We run a small, tight ship,” she said. “We have seven crew members, including you, plus Jessa, our sole civilian on board. So eight, total.”
“All this food is just for eight people?” I said incredulously, surveying no fewer than four platters of food, enough to feed four dozen aboard the Stalwart.
“Albert heard it was your inaugural breakfast and pulled out all the stops. The better for all of us,” Orion said, reaching for the platter of soy bacon and pushing several onto his plate. “Plus we have Sergei as a guest, right, Iris?”
I thought I saw spots of color rise to her cheeks, but when Xiao spoke, she was cool as a cucumber. “Orion, do you have Stella’s comms unit ready?”
“Incidentally, I have it right here.” He produced from his pocket the oddest piece of jewelry I’d ever clapped eyes on. The front piece was brushed chrome and shaped like a gently sloping letter S, with a long, curved plastic back. “It goes over your ear,” he explained, then helped me fit it on. The S part rested just inside my eardrum, while the back part molded comfortably to the slope of my skull.
“When I point to you, just say your name.” He recited a long string of numbers, then pointed, and I did as I was told. Two tones chirped in my ear. “Voice activation is all set.”
“We wear our comms at all times while on duty,” Officer Xiao said. “It’s the easiest way to communicate with one another while on board. Just use the ‘on’ and ‘off’ voice commands to speak to someone. For example: ‘Comms on. Paging Stella Ainsley.’”