Then she was gone, presumably to the next passenger’s room.
Bert said, “I’ll use this time to sleep if you can all speak softly. It has been a most stressful day.”
The captain owned all or part of a spaceship, so she knew what was about to happen. Bill and I had never as much as flown in an aircar. Fear crept into my mind on little cat’s feet. I’d heard that phrase somewhere and with my new feline name, it fits the circumstances. While I didn’t expect danger, I didn’t know what came next, and not knowing is the root of many fears.
I asked, “Since none of us has been on a ship before, can you tell us what is going to happen?”
Instead of Captain Stone answering, Bert spoke first, “The engines will rumble as they start, and self-diagnostics are run. Vibration increases. Then it will get louder, and no one can talk because of that. Pressure will push you down. Not hurting, but more than you like. Lie flat on your back and wait.”
“Then what?” I found myself asking.
“Things return to normal at the end of the trip out of the atmosphere. Gravity will be supplied.”
Captain Stone said to Bert, “You’ve flown before?”
Bert said, “I’m under too many articles of clothing to hear you well. Time to sleep for me.”
That was an outright lie, and his confusing language was intended to be misunderstood. Bert could hear perfectly, especially from this distance. His diction was better than mine, and he spoke at least five or six languages like a native. He simply didn’t want to give away his background or age, as usual. I cupped my hand to my mouth and gave a soft cough while muttering liar.
I heard his muted chuckle from under the clothing in an answer but was probably the only one to do so because I was expecting it. I whispered just above audible level, so softly nobody else heard, “Good night.”
“Sleep well,” Bert muttered.
It took a while for people to learn how sensitive his ears were and even then, most underestimated his abilities. He heard a whisper in the next room as clearly as if someone shouted in Bert’s left ear. He’d told me his race had tiny little hairs inside their ears that allowed them to thrive on a planet filled with hungry predators. His species had evolved, those that survived, due to the sensitive hearing.
The liftoff was much as Bert had described. Within a few tenths of time, we were off planet, away from the clutches of the Coliseum police of Roma, and safely on beds in a pair of tiny metal rooms where a full step in any direction would force us to stop or strike our noses on a wall. The only place to move was the two steps to the door.
The announcement that we were free to move about the passenger area brought me anxiously upright. The farming planet, Franklin, a planet I’d never heard of before a few hours ago, loomed far ahead somewhere in the darkness of space.
For now, I simply wanted out of the confinement of the cabin and the freedom to explore the Dreamer. “Bill, want to look over the ship with me?”
“In a while.”
I cast a look in his direction and found him on his bed with his forearm tossed across his eyes. He didn’t look well.
Captain Stone peeked in and said, “Liftoff and entry into space with the shifts in gravity affects some like that. He’ll get used to it in a day or two. Bert wants to remain in his burrow, sulking about the computers he left behind. He assures me they were destroyed and of no use to the police trying to track us or find out anything about us.”
“Want to go with me and check out the ship?” I asked Captain Stone.
She hesitated, then caved. “Sure, I haven’t been on a working ship like this in years.”
“Working ship?” I asked.
“Tramps, we call them. Not traders, but they do usually carry cargo. A few passengers and usually a there-and-back route the ship travels regularly. Sometimes there are three or four stops. Not a lot of money in it for the ship and crew, but it’s steady income, which is sometimes better than taking chances on a trader like the one I own.”
“You own a whole ship?” I asked without thinking, astonished that anyone could have that much money. She had mentioned it before, but the concept only now revealed itself to me. My words had spilled from my mouth without thinking.
She laughed, “Along with owning all the expenses for upkeep, repairs, fuel, crew wages, taxes, and worst of all, bad trades. Most traders hit that wall sooner or later. One bad trade can put you out of business if you’re not careful.”
She was talking as we moved down a narrow passage that Bert might enjoy because of the confining feel to it. Sort of like a tunnel in space. In the end, we opened a heavier door, one with the word “airtight” printed on it. Captain Stone carefully resealed it when we passed through into a larger room.
Larger is a generous description. Five tall, tiny tables big enough to hold a pair of small plates and two glasses stood inside, and at each, four narrow chairs rested. Between them was enough room for a skinny child on a diet to move through. A female of the crew welcomed us and directed us to a table with
