“As you were,” he said, waving them off.

The crowd began dispersing as the airlock rumbled again.

Weston and the deck chief were startled when a section of its sidewall melted away.

“Hol-y shit,” the deck chief muttered, actually taking a step back, flushing. “Sorry, Cap…”

“No need. I know the feeling,” Weston replied, watching the fluid motion of the metal as it pooled on the floor of the deck and built up a ramp.

It looked impressive, but Weston had to admit that he didn’t like the idea of flying in a ship that could melt around him without warning.

Someone appeared at the hatch and walked down the ramp. She, Weston realized noting the figure in the utilitarian coveralls, stopped just before stepping onto the Odyssey’s deck and made a motion with her hand, crossing her chest, palm up and open. It struck him that it was probably a salute or something similar, so Weston snapped to attention and brought his fingers up to his temple, while he saw the chief do the same at his side.

“I would like permission to set foot on your vessel, Captain,” the woman’s voice came through the translator clearly.

Weston nodded and dropped his salute. “Granted.”

“Thank you,” she nodded, stepping off onto the deck, only to float free as her feet no longer wanted to remain connected to the ground.

“Chief!” Weston yelled.

“Got it, Cap!” the chief said, boots clanging on the deck as he grabbed the woman’s arm mid-tumble and pulled her down to the deck.

She was none the worse for wear, but her face was flush with embarrassment and anger as she muttered something the translator didn’t catch.

“My apologies,” Weston said as he motioned the chief to find her a pair of over-boots. “I forgot to mention that our lower decks are all in zero-g.”

“My mistake, Captaine,” she said, her flowing accent quite crisp from her annoyance. “I should have checked my instruments.”

“Nonsense.” Weston waved a hand. “It’s my understanding that your ships all have artificial gravity. Why would you check?”

“Perhaps,” she grated, obviously distressed by the rather ignominious impression she’d left. She took a deep breath as they reached the wall, turning back to Weston. “I am Ithan Cora Sienthe.”

“Captain Eric Weston…pleased to meet you.”

“I as well,” she said.

“Now,” Weston smiled thinly as the deck chief fetched a pair of Magboots. “Let us talk about your landing protocols and how they impact on my ship.”

Dr. Rame moved slowly through the ranks of patients who were gradually returning to consciousness.

“How are they, Nurse?”

“No obvious allergic reactions, and they seem to be reacting to the stimulant as expected.”

Rame nodded. “Good. As soon as they can walk, get them divided up into groups. Keep families together, but speed matters. We have to get these people off the Odyssey before we break orbit.”

The nurse nodded professionally, returning to her task as Rame continued on, masking a grim look on his face.