Truth and Beauty 11-4

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At the companion he found the wardroom sentry still standing guard, the first normal sign since the alarm. “Perazzo,” he said, “what’s going on?”

“It’s quarters, sir,” whispered the marine, suspiciously, “and silent running. Why aren’t - that is, perhaps you should be in the cockpit?”

“The cockpit? The bridge?”

“No, sir, the cockpit, where the wounded go?”

“We have wounded?”

“Yes,” Perazzo lied. “Yes. Go to the wounded. But remove your shoes, sir, it’s silent running.”

Stephen ran stocking-footed one level down the companion, then moved quickly along the starboard gangway, meeting no one. At the sickbay, he found the door held open by a magnetic catch, and he hurried in.

Katya sat on a stool in the middle of that waiting room, her tablet in her hands, one foot tucked beneath her as she spun in a lazy circle. She looked up as Stephen entered. “Good morning, sir,” she said.

“Perazzo said we have wounded,” Stephen said uncertainly, something in Katya’s relaxed nature sowing doubt.

“No, sir, not yet,” Katya whispered.

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