Strange Encounters

Doc thinks a moment. "We'll follow the path to QFM. It sounds like the best bet and the least populated."

"Sounds good," Steve replies.

The hallways are poorly lit, but clean. Ambient white noise floods each modular section of hallway, but if they stay quiet Doc and Steve can barely hear the movement of the walls just beyond their range of vision. At all times remain the options to follow the red, blue, or yellow lights.

"I really don't get this," Doc asks as they get ever deeper into the bowels of the labyrinth. "Why build a ship this way?"

"It's pretty damn secure, isn't it? The walls know ahead of time whether or not to even let you go through. An can be totally isolated or even be lead straight into the brig, minimizing the need for security forces on the command deck. I actually doubt we'll run into any security officers on duty in here."

"But we may be being led straight to the brig?"

"Possibly, but I'm sure if that were the case they wouldn't bother giving us options."

"Still, why the cards and not biosensors? It really doesn't make any sense to go through the trouble to have moving walls and then give your personnel something they can easily lose."

"I don't know. Perhaps they're cutting corners. Even at five billion a pop for the cheap seats I'm sure there's not much profit margin on a ship this size."

The path twists and turn. Sometimes they're wide open corridors, sometimes they're tight, angular halls. It seems to go on endlessly. There's not another soul in sight.

"What about officers?" Doc asks. "Maybe I can understand emergency services being assigned to a single sector, but wouldn't a commanding officer need to get around the ship quickly and easily?"

"My guess is they're kept close to the sections they command. Plus they can do a lot remotely. Command is not usually very hands on."

"Well, what about the admiral or the captain? Don't they have to attend dinner functions and crap like that? Wouldn't they want a fast way in or out?"

"You've got a good point there, maybe there is something. We won't know until I can get to a terminal, though."

As they walk a little further, Doc hears something different through the white noise. It sounds like voices.

"Hold up," he tells Steve. He activates his glasses' X-Ray function (which is a misnomer as it is actually an infrared sensor with an active low level radar). There are three figures just around the corner. One of them is slumped sitting on the ground, the other two are leaning against the walls. They're armed. Two of them have guns of some kind. The other has...a machete?

"They're armed. I don't think they're crew members."

Doc listens a little harder.

"Oi, Gaff, why'n fischle didja think twas a gud idee ta breng us en this vessa? Shesa godham dethtrap."

"Fak yeu, Donneh, twas yur idee. 'Les goa cut-persin ona theis ol shoabote.' Yeh daft faker. We ha'ent founda penneh."

"Fak both eyeh. Yeu dronk taits both thaut twas a gud idee. Naw shot up an les kiep muvin. Thair's get tabee awahy offa dis faker."

"Peshoff, Shaim. Yertha onat godus lost in th's fakin plaise."

"Yeh, an eyel betha onet braings allhe fat lute bak tethe Cap'm. So ofyer arses, yeh fakin' pansies. Letsch goh or well ne'er findeh deim."