Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
I didn’t mind the swearing but it was important to have a navvie who could get to the bridge of the ship quickly and easily in case of an emergency. I said nothing but I made a mental note.
I led my two navigator candidates to the lift and turned to face them.
“This is my private lift—the Captain’s lift,” I told them. “If I hire either one of you, you’re going to be using the Gensen’s tubes to get around the ship. Understand?”
The boy—whose name I still didn’t know—nodded quickly.
“No problem, Captain Turk,” he said.
I frowned—had I told the boy my name? I couldn’t remember doing so. Maybe he’d heard Gurflug talking to me before.
Speaking of the big Galafruxian, he was looking distinctly uneasy.
“Er, how big are the Gensen’s tubes on this ship?” he asked.
I eyed him up and down.
“Big enough—though it will probably be a tight squeeze,” I told him, after making a mental assessment.
He bristled.
“I think I should be allowed to use the lift instead. The navigator is an important member of the crew—some might say the most important.”
If the boy hadn’t turned up, I would have had to agree to this—even though I didn’t want my private lift smelling like rotten fish all the fucking time. But as things stood, I had more leverage than I had before.
“Sorry,” I said coolly. “It doesn’t matter how important you think you are, the lift is private and off limits to anyone but the Captain—that’s protocol aboard The Illyrian. However…” I raised a finger. “Just this once, I’m going to allow the two of you to ride with me. Come in.”
I pressed the button which was keyed exclusively to my thumbprint and the lift door slid open.
We stepped inside the round lift, with Gurflug taking up most of the space, and I pressed the top button—the bridge was in the very topmost section of the Illyrian.
“What’s on the other floors?” the boy asked, nodding at the buttons lined up in a neat row.
“Well, first we have the cargo hold,” I told him. What I didn’t say was that the cargo hold was only used for boring, legitimate cargo which we used as a cover in case of Imperium inspectors. Our real cargo was generally stored beneath the removable steel plates of the cargo hold floor. Like many smuggling ships, The Illyrian had a false bottom which was cleverly concealed in the belly of the ship.
“And the next floor?” the boy asked.
“That’s the ship’s engines,” I told him. “As well as the quarters of our chief engineer and his assistant. They need to stay close to the engines in case of an emergency.”
Since he was listening attentively while Gurflug stared into space, I continued talking.
“The next level is the crew’s quarters, the kitchen and the galley, as well as the mess hall and the communal shower,” I told him.
“Er…communal shower?” he asked, swallowing so hard I could see his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Yes, is that a problem, boy?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
“It’s not a problem for me,” Gurflug stated, proving that he had been listening after all. “Galafruxians don’t take showers—it’s bad for our skin to wash off our natural coating of dirt and slime.”
The boy made a face but said nothing. I kept my face neutral, but inside I couldn’t help agreeing with him—no wonder the big bastard stunk if he never fucking showered!
“All crew members are required to take showers aboard The Illyrian,” I growled, pinning them both with a look. “Good hygiene is important when we’re all in such close quarters.”
Neither of them looked happy to learn this. Gurflug, presumably didn’t like it because he wanted to keep his slime. I didn’t know why the boy didn’t like the “everybody takes a shower” rule. He looked clean enough and he didn’t stink. Or maybe he did and I just couldn’t tell it because Gurflug’s stench was so overpowering.
“And here we are at the top level of the ship,” I said, as the lift’s bell dinged softly. “This is where the bridge is, as well as the Captain’s quarters, my ready room, and my private shower. And no, I don’t share those either,” I added, giving them both another look.
The boy nodded meekly and Gurflug just made a grunting sound. Such a fucking charmer, this guy.
We stepped out of the lift directly onto the bridge which was a round room with a vast, rectangular viewscreen directly ahead of us. There were several stations along the perimeter of the room including communications, piloting, and navigation. In the center of the bridge was the command chair, where I typically sat when we flew.
In a pinch, I could man any of the stations—a good Captain has to be able to run his own ship if there’s an emergency or he loses a crew member—so I had a working knowledge of all of them. But navigation was definitely the most difficult.