Transitory

Chapter 8

The light cleared to reveal that they were again aboard the flagship of Maddox industries’ fleet. This time things appeared more lived in than before. The metal walls were clean, but contained gouges and scrapes along their surfaces after countless run-ins with heavily clad crew members.

This part of the ship was less impressive and a whole lot more practical than the previous area they'd visited. It also desperately needed a new coat of paint to replace the now peeling layer of ocean blue that adorned its walls.

“We are again on your ship, Nathan,” L'Armin said. “Which path should we take?”

Nate found the way L'Armin had asked mildly comical, he wasn’t sure if he wanted a literal or a philosophical answer. His unintentional smirk elicited a confused look from his companion.

Before them lay a seemingly endless corridor, devoid of any windows or signs. Where previously there had been thick glass windows, linking them to the outside world, now nothing but walls and doors lined their route. There were no markings around them to give away their position on the ship and no obvious direction for them to travel.

But this corridor was busy and provided an obviously important path for the crew. Nate placed it somewhere within the bowels of the ship, where the real work was done. This was a purposeful corridor.

Standing directly in the middle of the corridor proved an unwise choice for Nate and L'Armin. Within a minute of entering they were swamped by a group of crew members heading for the mess hall, all dressed in baggy blue overalls. The men were an enthusiastic bunch that took no time at all to shove Nate to the side. Once out of the way he could see just how busy the ship had become since their earlier visit.

Along the walls stood others who had been moved aside by the stampeding men. Some wore overalls, while others wore roughed up trousers and heavy boots with—more often than not—greasy tops to boot. Those with cleaner clothes were clearly just about to start a shift. They mingled casually along the corridor, some catching up on gossip and idle chat as they walked.

No-one along these corridors ever wore a suit and tie. The Minor’s Folly wasn’t a place for soft clothing. If it couldn’t take weeks of sweat and grease then it didn’t belong on the ship. The same went for her crew. Nate tried hard to remember the last time he had worn anything that didn’t have a designer brand-name on it somewhere.

“I suppose we need to figure out where Stuart should be,” he said, unwilling to address how much he had changed.

He took a few steps forward, past another static group of workers, and activated a small screen on the wall. “Now this system was never that advanced, so it can’t tell us where he is. But …” He tapped the screen which in turn lit up, and then began scrolling through its options. “Got it.”

L'Armin joined Nate at the wall screen with a curious look on his face. “What has the wall given you, Nathan?”

“Not literally,” Nate said with a laugh, in a much more disparaging way than he would have liked. “It says here the date is August 5th, 2131, and here’s the work schedule for the day …” He slid his finger down the screen as he surveyed the list. “A repair team is working on the fore antenna array which was damaged by debris during the last job.” He swiped his finger across the screen, removing the list, and opened the map of the ship.

After re-familiarising himself with the ship's layout, he pointed the way ahead. “This way, come on,” he said. “The forward access airlock is this way.”

“Is this the place Stuart will be?” L'Armin asked, as they set off along the corridor.

“If I remember right, yes. This was only months after I returned to work for my father. I was twenty four. He wanted to punish me for leaving years earlier, I think. So I got a lot of physically demanding jobs. One of which was to do outside repairs, like fixing the antenna arrays. And Stuart was supervising the job.”