Sword of Minerva (The Guild Wars Book 10) by Mark Wandrey (great books for teens TXT) 📕

captain and his mate. Coronado had nearly the same size crew for a ship maybe half the size.

They were given a single stateroom measuring 3 by 5 by 10 meters. About 150 cubic meters in size seemed like a lot until you factored in sleeping space, eating space, zero-gravity restroom, and a universal, programmable autochef.

“What a dump,” Sato said, looking around and frowning. “200,000 credits for a dumpster.”

“I’ve been in worse,” Rick said, glancing back at the hatch. Luckily, the crewfly had left before Sato had started spouting off about their ship.

“Did you pay almost a quarter of a million credits for it?” Sato asked mulishly.

“No, it only cost me part of my brain.”

Sato turned and looked at him, his sneer slowly changing to a frown. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be callous.”

“No problem, sir. Just try to remember we’re both here.”

“I’ll try,” Sato said, and he seemed genuine. “Let’s get our little companion’s home in place somewhere out of the way, shall we?”

They found a blank section of hull with a power receptacle. It took Sato less than a minute to configure a plug, examine and understand the system on the aquatic support module, and integrate it into the ship’s power. “It’s got its own hybrid cell, which is why I never noticed a power draw on our module,” he explained. “Should still work if the ship loses power.”

Rick nodded as Sato worked. No sooner was it plugged in and locked to the wall than the door popped open. Water spurted out, making Sato push back in surprise.

“Was that normal?” he asked Rick.

“I wasn’t there when it opened,” Rick explained.

A tiny little light display rode the water out as the jet slowed to a stop. Tentacles waved about, and vivid blue eyes took in the new surroundings. Again Rick’s translator caught the colorful flashes and translated them into English for him.

“Sato! How are you?”

Sato took a second to adjust his own translator, which was a pendant he wore attached to his now unitless black coveralls. “I’m fine,” he replied. “Why didn’t Nemo tell me about you?”

The miniature Wrogul oscillated colors in rolling groups, almost like the scales of music. Rick’s translator rendered it as a kind of shrug. “Are you surprised?”

“I could wake up with my head nailed to the bulkhead and not be more surprised,” Sato grumbled. “You’ve never budded before, right?”

“Correct.”

“Then why did you wait so many years?”

The bud let out a phut of expelled air and sailed over to the stateroom’s autochef. Rick moved to the side, taking a handhold to observe as Sato followed the little Wrogul.

“Nemo?” Sato persisted.

“I’m not Nemo,” the bud replied, pulsating green and yellow as it examined the autochef.

“Then what is your name?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” An eye looked at Sato. “You named me originally.”

“What?” Sato asked, caught off guard. “I…I don’t remember…”

As Rick watched, once again Sato’s eyes seemed to drift out of focus. He was left with little doubt that Sato had a problem. A bad one. What could he do about it now on an alien starship? However, the next stop was Earth. Slowly, as Sato tried in vain to coax more information out of the young version of Nemo, Rick began to formulate a plan for when they got to Earth.

* * * * *

Chapter Five

Tu-Plik undocked from Karma Station two hours after Rick and Sato boarded. Departure took as long as the wait to depart owing to the station’s busy schedule around the docking bays. Station computers controlled ships while they were flying in and out of the central hub. Some things were just too dangerous to trust to a biological pilot.

The pair watched the departure from the ship’s tiny galley, which was arranged like many ships that rarely landed on planets. Eating stations and common access terminals were arrayed along the walls and ceilings in a seemingly random manner. The Athal in particular seemed to have little concern for the aesthetics of such an arrangement, giving it an even more chaotic feeling. Sato took it all in with a certain amount of disdain.

He’d been the Winged Hussars chief naval architect for years and took a great deal of pride in the praise he’d gotten from crews and ships’ commanders. The Hussars’ ships were always functional, yet still managed to convey a feeling of homeliness. Further, each ship was subtly different. The Steed-class battlecruisers, in particular—the mainstay of the Winged Hussars’ combat arm—were subtly distinct in their décor. From the types of leather in lounge seats to the colors of trim on the bridge, you could tell which Steed-class you were on just by comparing the details.

Tu-Plik looked like it had rolled off the assembly line exactly as it currently appeared. Probably Izlian, he mentally mused as he examined the details. Besides being one of the strangest races in the galaxy, they were also the largest manufacturer of starships. Their unique biology allowed for rapid production of many rare alloys and some amazing high-pressure fusion-welding techniques. Thousands of starships flowed from Izlian shipyards for every purpose imaginable, including free traders just like Tu-Plik.

The giveaway for Sato was the generic nature of the design. Passageways and pressure doors were all designed with the widest variety of races possible in mind. A purpose-built ship for the Athal wouldn’t have had such large corridors. The fly-like aliens were no larger than medium-sized dogs.

Sato had processed a bulk purchase of cargo tugs from the Izlian during his time with the Hussars. The vessels had arrived with no amenities and the same wide, boring internal layout. The ships were serviceable after Sato sent them through the manufactories for various upgrades and to strip out needless components. Overengineered power systems and underutilized crew spaces was his conclusion.

“Why do you keep looking around