Palin’s eyes grew wide as he saw the tail fin of the huge trans-atmospheric shuttle rise from below, the ship slowly revealed as it rose on the powerful elevator. “Oh my…It never seemed that big before.”

Weston glanced over at the vessel. “That’s because when you boarded the shuttle planet-side, it was docked in a control building being refitted and refueled. You never saw the whole thing at once.”

Palin watched in fascination as a yellow behemoth trundled over to the shuttle, backing slowly into place until the nose of the ship had been secured to a stout pin in the machine’s back. The yellow loader stomped off, dragging the shuttle along with it toward the docking pylons. Palin stared at the approaching duo in consternation, finally turning to Weston, a question forming on his lips.

Weston cut him off before he could start. “Null grav.”

“Huh?” Palin was more confused now than before.

“We use the walking loader because this deck is zero-g. A wheeled vehicle couldn’t get any traction, and cats require too much maintenance. The feet on the walker are magnetic, the same as the boots you’re wearing,” Weston explained. “The loader holds the shuttle down, as well as moves it around, until it’s locked into place.”

“Oh,” Palin said, blinking as he processed information that he’d not really considered before.

“You wouldn’t want to see what kind of damage a shuttle could cause if it started floating around down here,” Weston added.

Palin just paled at the thought.

It wasn’t quite as bad as the captain let the linguist think, of course. The shuttle had its own magnetic locks that could hold it quite firmly in place in an emergency, but the threat was credible. All fighters, shuttles, and in fact, all equipment had to be locked down solidly before the ship could engage in sharp maneuvers.

Only the CM fields made the null-grav flight deck a reasonable design feature—at least as it currently stood on the Odyssey.

The loader had finally done its job, locking the shuttle into the docking pylon next to where the captain and Dr. Palin were waiting. Four huge servo-powered arms whined into position, locking the shuttle down. The shuttle’s loading ramp lowered, and two of the Special Forces team stepped down.

“Fifty survivors aboard, sir. The major and the rest of the team are organizing the others into groups of seventy-five for transport. This group needs immediate medical care.”

Weston nodded, returning the soldier’s salute before waving the E-med teams in from where they were waiting. “Good work, men. Report to the infirmary after decontam, then hit the showers. You’re relieved until your CO is back aboard.”

“Sir.” Both soldiers snapped quick salutes and double-timed off the ramp and out of the shuttle bay.

Weston stepped to one side as people were carted off the shuttle, the E-med teams rushing them through decontamination and sending them to the med-lab. As the last of the E-med units left the shuttle, a lone woman walked down. There were no obvious injuries, but none of them looked healthy, either. Stress or environmental issues had weakened them, from what he could see. Some were clutching children as they were guided along, others carrying what little belongings they’d managed to save. He’d seen scenes like this before, but they always caused his guts to roil up and a sense of helplessness to ball up deep inside.