Part 7 (2/2)

”There is one next to his,” the s.h.i.+p-comp replied. ”3N-2-1-8 is free.”

”Great! Take us there, will you?”

”Affirmative. Is there anything else?”

”No, thanks.”

”Chang out.”

The shuttle began to move, and Sunbeam turned to Corina. ”You'll have to memorize those coordinates, I'm afraid. You're not a member of the s.h.i.+p's crew, so until Ranger Medart or Captain Hobison say otherwise, that and comm patches are the only commands of yours the Chang will obey, once you get its attention by using its full name. Security, you know.”

”I understand,” Corina said. ”Deck Three North, Ring Two, Segment One, Cabin B.”

”Very good!” Sunbeam exclaimed. ”If this was the Academy, I'd make you explain the system.”

”If I am fortunate, I will go to the Academy when this is over. May I practice?”

Sunbeam a.s.sumed a mock-fierce expression. ”All right, plebe. Recite!”

A stern-looking Sunbeam Yamata seemed so incongruous, even on short acquaintance, that Corina purred briefly in amus.e.m.e.nt. ”We came in on Deck Zero, known as the Equator. Other decks are numbered away from that, south being toward the drive pod, north toward the bow. The Bridge is at the center of Deck Zero, fully protected. The rings are numbered outward, toward the hull. There are twelve segments, numbered clockwise from an arbitrary beginning, and compartments in each segment are given alphabetic designations.”

When she finished, Sunbeam was grinning again. ”Not quite by the book, but you're close, and you've got all the facts right. Are you a Navy fan, or something?”

The shuttle door opened, and the two stepped out into a cool-looking green corridor before Corina replied. ”I would not use that term, but you could say so.”

”D . . . C . . . here we are.” Sunbeam motioned Corina into the cabin.

”So was I. It makes a lot of the first year easier. But don't get used to this--cadet quarters aren't anywhere near this nice, and neither are junior officers' quarters. Which you probably already know.”

”Yes.” Corina looked around. It was more like a small apartment than a cabin, with the part they were in both lounge and office. A panel labeled ”s.h.i.+p's Services” covered one wall above a table which had an L-shaped extension housing a computer terminal and viewscreen. Storage and display cabinets lined two other walls. The fourth was a translucent screen with a curtained-off opening.

She brushed past the curtain into the sleeping area. A standard bed covered in glimmercloth was the only furniture here; the clothing storage and fabricator were both built into the wall across from the bed. A door in the wall opposite the divider proved to lead to a small but well-designed 'fresher room--though Corina remembered that aboard Navy s.h.i.+ps, for some obscure reason, they were called ”heads”.

She returned to the lounge area, testing one of the two armchairs it held--yes, as soft as it looked--glad that if she was to spend some appreciable amount of time on this s.h.i.+p, it would be in such pleasant surroundings. A yellow light flas.h.i.+ng on a panel beside the door caught her attention, and she pointed to it. ”What is--oh, I remember.”

”s.h.i.+p's status, right,” Sunbeam said. ”We're in Condition Yellow; what's General Quarters?”

”Red, with a wavering buzz. I do not have a battle station, so I would remain here unless told otherwise by a senior officer.”

”Right again!” Sunbeam looked around. ”I think that's all here. So unless you need something else . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she pointed to Corina's neck. ”Is that blood?”

”Oh.” Corina reached up and touched the spot. ”I forgot, and I have had no chance to wash it off before now. Excuse me for a moment, please.” She left, returning with her throat fur damp but clean, to face a thorough scrutiny by the young Ensign.

Sunbeam nodded at last. ”And that's a blaster burn--”

Corina felt a curiosity as strong as her own, and hastened to say, ”I do not think I should discuss it until Ranger Medart tells me I may.”

Sunbeam looked dissatisfied, and Corina didn't really blame her. ”You must be something pretty special,” the Ensign said. ”He comes back from convalescent leave early, brings you along--wounded--as his special a.s.sistant, puts the s.h.i.+p on Condition Yellow . . . and I bet you can't talk about any of that, either. Uh, do they hurt? I can take you to sickbay if they do.”

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