Stranded: Initiation

Chapter 2

Andra awoke suddenly.

The ceiling lamps of her quarters were now tied into the day and night cycle of Promethean. Now bright and overhead to simulate a noon sunlight from planetary life that only existed in the scattered accounts of their ancestors.

She'd slept late, likely overcoming the spiked Fratfa milk that she hadn't been shy to drink in copious quantities. Though Ref hadn't awakened when Rather and Grathe came back she knew it must have been late. After several moments sitting up in bed as her mind reacquainted itself with the concept of waking, she strode out of her tiny vertical quarters into the corridor.

The Shifter was a moor, which was a workhorse factory ship, or it probably had been at one time. The crew quarters were all located on the same level, with the same vertical format, leaving very little actual floor space, and even the command officers quarters weren't much different from the basic model. She had floor space at the top, which she had converted into a reading station. The slow-burn between Promethean and the Out-Fields was weeks worth of journey time where they were left with relatively little to do.

Ref went immediately to Rather's quarters. His doors were closed and she had to use her muscular legs to propel herself to reach the controls. That was a change she hoped the Shifter would undergo. Everything was designed for humans and all of it was an absolute pain for every Obsolus species that could serve on the moor.

The room was empty. The disarray that met her gaze was jarring, but she had become used to his chaotic level of arrangement, and it didn't look like he had slept here. Ref stepped out and the doors closed halfway before grinding to a halt. Shaking her head she turned away from the chaos as if it might creep through the opening and infect her.

Rather had never devoted any time to cleanliness.

"Situous Rather," she said into her handheld. There was a pause before her call was transferred. "Where are you?"

There was no response even though she waited several moments.

Ref meandered to the command core, certain that Rather had stayed out too long and probably drank far more of that Yava wine than he could handle. No doubt the local authorities had picked him up, passed out in some corridor, and let him stay the night in one of the containment cells. There would be a fine, but for once they could actually pay for something.

A cursory search of those that had been picked up didn't reveal anything and Ref had almost given up when she stumbled onto the nightly report. There'd been a firefight against citizens in the Crown District last night, with local forces engaging into open conflict with Obsolus hostiles. No mention of casualties, nor any indication of who had been involved, but the attack had taken place at night.

Ref leaned back for several moments. Rather didn't have any enemies, he wasn't important enough for anyone to care about, but Grathe was an exile. Did his crimes warrant an attack on the streets? The local forces might not be well equipped or even particularly effective, but a disruption to services would bring out the private security forces that could deal with incursions.

"Quinton, get up," she said into her handheld.

There was no response there either, but she could track his handheld to his quarters.

"Get up now. If I have to come down there you might not like it."

"I don't like it now. Go away Ref—I'm tired and we have earned a break." He sounded as groggy as could be expected.

"There might be a problem." That was a terrible understatement if both Rather and Grathe had been caught up in the crossfire or worse if one of them had been the target.