*Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.*
"Television has brought back murder into the home - where it belongs."
They say most of your brain shuts down in cryo-sleep. All but the primitive side…the animal side. No wonder I'm still awake.
Transporting me with civilians. Sounded like forty, forty plus. Heard an Arab voice, some hoodoo holy man. Probably on his way to New Mecca. But what route? What route?
Smelled a woman. Sweat, boots, tool belt, leather. Prospector type, free settlers. And they only take the back routes.
Caught a glimpse of man through the slit in the blindfold before they injected everyone with the sleep drug. Shorter then me, skinnier as well but built. Wore a strange leather outfit with a coat going down to his calves. Smelt a gun, but the ammo left my nose twitching, the scent was almost like oil. Steps were even, calm, but fingers were twitching, belaying his confidence. Walked like he owned the place, like he'd gone through hell and back. And his eyes, those haunted tortured eyes.
Then there's my real problem: Mr. Johns, blue eyed devil. Planning on taking me back to slam…only this time he picked a ghost lane.
A long time between stops…A long time for something to go wrong.
Rovhu trailed listlessly in space about 150 motras behind the Hunter-Gratzner, just outside its proximity alarm. As the weekens turned to monens the young Leviathan started to become anxious. He had never gone more then five solar days without his Captain, but it's been 22 weekens since he talked to the human, since John was put into cryo-sleep.
The black hull of the bio-mechanoid made him invisible to the naked eye and the long range sensor distorter made him appear as either drifting debris or a small convoy ship. At the moment, he was mimicking a dead ship that was being pulled by the large mass of the Hunter-Gratzner.
At one and a half cycles old, Rovhu was just over a quarter of Moya's size. He already had two tiers available and another one almost finished growing. It would be another half a cycle before that tier was finished enough to use, but he wasn't in a hurry to complete it. He also had several dozen DRD's functioning, and like the Leviathan, were black with streaks of purple. Though Rovhu's skin was dark, his interior was not. He bore similarities to his mother there since his inner walls were painted a deep and vibrant gold.
He had a total of six rooms, unlike Moya's 30 some odd number. Two rooms were located on tier two where command was. His Captain sleeps in the larger one located right next to the control room. The other room was about seven motras down on the opposite side of the hall, it was smaller, but not by much. The other four rooms were in tier one, directly below John's room.
One of the rooms was a complete and functioning kitchen. When John asked why the kitchen wasn't in tier two, where he spent most of his time, Rovhu replied that if he wanted to stuff himself in the middle of the night, then at least he could get some exercise while he was at it. John refused to talk to him for a whole solar day. Rovhu thought that John's face was worth it though.
As he trailed behind the Hunter-Gratzner he thought about what would happen if he just left. What would life be like without John? And then, as his scanner picked up a small meteor shower and he moved to intercept, he thought that the strange human he has come to call his Captain was worth everything.