Barbary

The pale gray walls of the ship, solid and dull, brought her back to what she needed to do. She retraced the blue line to the spot where another major line, one in green, split off from the skein. She followed it. She had not seen or heard another person since leaving her room.

The VIPs probably have a fancier part of the ship, she thought, to keep herself from feeling how spooky it was to be alone.

The green line led not to a cafeteria but to something even better, a foyer displaying a map of the ship.

Barbary searched out the colors that led to the places she needed. The 24-hour ship’s clock above the map also helped her get her bearings. The clock read 0300: three o’clock in the morning. She was not certain what time zone of earth Outrigger and Einstein used to set their clocks, but she supposed most everybody must be trying to adjust to the transport’s schedule. That would explain why the ship seemed deserted. Everyone else was sleeping. She was just as glad. This way there was less chance of Mickey’s being discovered while she was gone.

Anxious again, Barbary started along the line that led to the cafeteria. She wondered why they had chosen purple.

Forgetting to slide along as if she were skating, she took one running step. The next thing she knew she bounced off the ceiling. Unhurt but dizzy, she ricocheted and tumbled from ceiling to floor to ceiling before she managed to grab a handhold. She let herself drift to the floor. She tried to copy the smooth skating motion she had seen on tapes of people in space. The trick was to propel herself forward without shoving herself up at the same time. She still felt awkward, but she was getting where she was going.

An open door led into the deserted cafeteria. Barbary dug around in her pockets for coins to work the automated servers, then realized none was necessary. Meals came with one’s passage, she supposed. And it must not be too often that a stowaway ate food never paid for.

She chose a couple of chicken sandwiches, plus two balloon-like containers of milk. She wished she had a bag, or that she had worn her jacket, so she could hide things in its pockets. Next time she would remember. She stuck the sandwiches under her shirt and held the bulbs of milk in one hand, leaving her other hand free.

Halfway to her room, when she began to think she would have the luck not to meet anyone, she heard voices. She spun, intending to hide in a branch corridor. But she had pushed off with too much force. She left the floor as if she had jumped, hit the ceiling, and rebounded, spinning helplessly toward the deck.

Jeanne Velory and a member of the ship’s crew glided around the bend in the hall. Concentrating on a thick sheaf of print-outs, they did not notice her tumbling toward them.

“Look out!” Barbary cried. They spun out of her vision. Jeanne caught her, bringing Barbary to a halt while Jeanne herself barely moved. She pulled Barbary to a handhold. Barbary grabbed it, her face burning with embarrassment. She still clutched the bulbs of milk.

“A new recruit, huh?” the crew member said, a hint of amusement in her tone. Anger would have been easier for Barbary to take.

“We all choose our own mealtimes here,” Jeanne said to Barbary, her voice neutral. “The cafeteria’s always open, so you don’t have to take food to your room between times. It isn’t a good idea — the recycling system isn’t set up for that. I’m sorry no one explained it to you.”

“Oh,” Barbary said.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Can you find your way back?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Come on, Valya.”

Barbary watched them go, then angrily scrubbed her sleeve across her eyes.

If she doesn’t want to be friends, Barbary thought, just because I can’t do exactly what she wants me to, exactly when she wants me to do it, then, tough. That’s an adult for you.

Slowly, this time, Barbary headed for her room.

Chapter Four

Her pulse raced. Barbary stopped. Afraid she would find an irritated crew member holding Mickey by the scruff of his neck, she peeked around the corner.

Her door remained shut, the hallway silent. Barbary crept to her room, opened the door, and slipped inside.

“Mick?” Mickey was nowhere to be seen. “Hey, Mick?” she said again, worried.

Mickey bounded from behind her rumpled jacket and landed against her. He curled in the crook of her arm, purring.

“Hi,” she said, relieved. “I’m glad you kept out of trouble.” She grinned ruefully. “You’re doing better than me.”

She opened one of the bulbs, extended its straw, and squeezed out a glob of milk. Mickey sniffed it. It bounced back and forth, in and out. The sphere flattened, then stretched into a long sausage shape. Never having seen milk behave so strangely, Mick bristled his whiskers and drew away. “Don’t get picky,” Barbary said. “It wasn’t exactly easy getting this for you.”