“C’mon,” I said, picking up the notepad. “Let’s get this thing cracked open so I can tell the captain I’m making progress.”
She sighed for effect. “You seriously need to get laid.”
“Just cause you like to watch. Perv.”
3
While there were trams spanning the length and breadth of the ship, I preferred to walk as much as possible. Travelling to the bridge at the extreme upper level, however, required time in a lift or two. In fact, from the lower levels where I lived to the bridge level was a five-minute lift ride. At this late hour, I had the rising cab all to myself. I leaned back against the wall, my eyes closed, taking a quiet moment to just listen to the hum of the cab and think of nothing. On a ship that housed twelve million people, quiet was a rare commodity.
The lift emitted a soft tone, its doors sliding open, and I stepped out onto the bridge of the FCS Nebula. It wasn’t as fancy as it sounded. Sure, there was a large holo projection of the ship in schematic form, data points flashing all about, in the center of the room with several smaller workstations laid out around it. But since most functions of the ship were controlled by virtual intelligences—a VI was much like an AI, but without the sentience—the bridge wasn’t exactly a buzzing hive of activity.
Three people, all human, sat on bridge, but only two were watching the ship. The third was the Captain’s secretary. I flashed her a bright smile as I strode across to her desk. I also tried, probably unsuccessfully, to keep my eyes from dropping to the tight front of her tastefully low-cut sweater.