“Sure. In this module. About a third, or two pie sections. Happens all the time. That’s why you’ll eventually hit a wall if you try a complete circuit. You can call them, or use the virtual bar and lounge to interact. I’ve got to talk to a couple of ’em here on business, in fact.” She looked at Angel. “See, it’s pretty awkward for me to go to their element, and unlikely I can do much anyway. Same goes in reverse. So we swap information, research, and such as a professional courtesy.”
Ari nodded. “Yes, it’s done all the time. I’m pretty much between assignments, but if any of them who know me rang me up in my cabin and asked me to run down something, I’d probably help if it didn’t go against somebody I’m likely to be working for or have worked for in the past.” He looked around at the gathering group. “Funny. I always know some of the people on a trip, because those of us who have to actually move from system to system are a fairly small number within a sector, but I know most of these. Not necessarily well, or as friends, but I know them.”
Ming nodded. “I noticed the same thing. The Rithians are all from the Ha’jiz Nesting, for example. And the middle-aged man with the good looks and silver hair and the woman in the sparkling scarlet are the Kharkovs. Gem cutters and master jewelers. That’s no coincidence.”
“I agree,” Ari replied. “And there are others here who are even a bit darker. That Geldorian, for example, is Tann Nakitt. He’s a go-between for various factions, whether it be companies or criminal groups or whatever. Not a bad sort, really, unless you’re opposed to him, but he’s also not cheap. I don’t know the Mallegestors, nor much about them as a race or culture, but it’s curious to see them this far afield. Assuming we can discount Mom and Dad and the two kids there, the distinguished-looking fellow with the goatee and the two overbuilt young ladies is Jules Wallinchky, a man who makes a lot of money providing goods and services to folks who want things they can’t legally have. I assume that the two with him are either recent acquisitions or kept because of their looks and attitude, although you never know.
Makes for an interesting mostly rogue’s gallery, though, doesn’t it?”
Angel recognized the man identified as the gangster as the one who had tried coming on to her until she did her ungainly spill. I sure attract the odd ones, she thought sourly, although she wondered what interest he might have in the likes of her, with two superior warm bodies like those hanging on his every word and gesture. On the other hand, maybe he was looking for a woman who wouldn’t pass a light beam in one ear and out the other. She’d never seen women like this, and only heard of them in stories and warnings; she did not understand why they would put themselves in that kind of situation, as little more than, well, property. She knew some faiths had women subordinated because of Eve’s corruption, but this had nothing to do with religion or true culture. To Angel Kobe, it was as inexplicable as the bipedal hippos over there, the Mallegestors.
“Well, I don’t care what the rules are,” Wallinchky said loud enough for all to hear. “If the Captain’s gonna stand us all up without so much as a word, he can damned well come find me when he wants to talk. I’ll give him five minutes and that’s it. Then we’re goin’ to the cabin!”
Tough guy or not, this sentiment was pretty much universal for the assembled passengers.
Jeremiah Kincaid arose, his huge form towering over the Terrans and Rithians, and made his way silently through the increasingly impatient throng to the restaurant. As soon as he stepped inside, the maitre d’ appeared.
“The Captain has allowed the passengers to wait without sending any word for more than a half hour,” Kincaid told the hologram in his deep baritone. “Please check and see if there is anything wrong.”
The maitre d’ seemed to freeze, but Kincaid’s words went through the generated character to the central module computer and from there to the master computer. Suddenly the hologram came to life once more, looking concerned. “We do not have a clear fix on Captain Dukodny. This is unprecedented. Validate that you are Jeremiah Wong Kincaid, passenger?”
“Yes, I am Kincaid.”
“Do you still hold captain’s papers?”
“Yes, although I couldn’t legally take command without going through a recertification. It has been a long time since I was master of anything large and complex, and technology has gone on.”
“Captain, you are the most qualified individual other than Captain Dukodny aboard. We would like you to go up to the bridge and see if there has been some kind of problem we cannot monitor.”
Kincaid nodded. “That is what I had in mind. What do your sensors see on the bridge?”
“Normal operation is reported, although there is some sort of weight imbalance we can not properly categorize.”
Kincaid frowned. “Weight imbalance? You mean at the bridge?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Wait here a moment. Then we will go up there.”
Kincaid turned and walked back to the people in the lounge, most of whom reacted nervously or recoiled from his powerful and mysterious visage.
“Citizens of the Realm, there might be a problem here,” he announced as loudly as possible. “I would not feel bound to wait around here any longer. On the other hand, I should like a couple of volunteers to accompany me to the bridge to check on the Captain. I fear he may be ill or worse.”
That got a lot of them agitated, and he moved to calm them down. “Please! This ship runs without live intervention. The ship’s Master is the boss, but doesn’t run the day-to-day operations. I am rated as captain and could do what little is necessary in a pinch, but this ship not only can do everything by itself, it has three to five levels of redundancy. There is no danger to us from that quarter. Still, something is amiss. Would anyone like to accompany me? Anyone?”
He wasn’t exactly the kind you willingly jumped up and volunteered to go off with into the internal bowels of a strange ship. Most of them would have preferred if he sat in a different room. Still, curiosity overcame a few of the courageous.
“I’ll go up with you,” said a Rithian, perhaps the one, Angel thought, she had talked to about Kincaid. The cobra-faced quadruped was welcome, because Rithians were so supple they could twist and bend as if they had no bones and get in and out of tight places.
“Fine. And one more?”
“I’ll come with you,” Angel heard herself saying. Was she the same person who had not long before been terrified at the very sight of this man? Perhaps being herself was always best; that way she could place herself in God’s hands.
Kincaid wasn’t too thrilled with her, but he didn’t want to wait much longer. “All right. You two come with me. Everybody else, stay or go as you please. We’ll report as soon as we know anything.”
They walked back over to the restaurant. The maitre d’ was nowhere in sight. Instead they were met by a tall, tough-looking man in a utility jumpsuit. This was crewman mode, and meant that this particular hologram wasn’t from the module computer but from the City of Modar itself.
In addition to curiosity, Angel had volunteered because it looked to be a chance to see the parts of the ship otherwise barred to passengers.
They walked back along utilitarian service corridors that had no mystery in them at all except perhaps where they went, and finally the trio reached a stair that descended from the ceiling as they approached. Without the computer authorizing things, nobody could have gotten up there or even noticed that the stairway existed. This was Officer Country, even though there was only one officer on the whole massive structure.