cast an accusing glance back at Marcus as he exited the hangar bay.
“Hey, don’t look at me. I didn’t tell your captain to buy all that disgusting fungus.”
The journey from the port side hangar bay was short, as the galley that served the crew of the Yamaro was centrally located. The first thing that Enrique had noticed was that the ship itself was much different on the inside than the Aurora. His ship had numerous pipes, conduits, and ducting running all along the walls and ceilings, leaving very little open wall space. The Yamaro’s walls and ceilings were relatively clean, with only the occasional interruption of a strategically placed interface panel or comm-console at shoulder height along the walls.
Another thing that was different was that the bottom edges of the doorways were flush with the floors. On the Aurora however—other than a few doors designed to allow rolling apparatus to pass through them—the hatchways were always twenty centimeters above the deck. The Yamaro’s hatches were automated, disappearing into the bulkheads when activated. Most of the Aurora’s hatches were of the hinged type and had to be operated manually—except of course a few of the main hatches that sealed off critical areas or passed through primary bulkheads. All of those were automated.
There was a different aesthetic as well. The Aurora was simple and functional. The Yamaro by comparison was more ornate; with the seal of Caius the Great visible nearly everywhere. While the Aurora's corridors and ceilings were designed with space efficiency as a primary consideration, the Yamaro was designed to impress visitors with its lavish accommodations and gratuitous dimensions integrated in to every facet of its structure. As they approached the galley, Enrique couldn’t help but wonder how much it had cost to produce a ship like the Yamaro. While it was impressive, all the extra space and decoration seemed like such a waste.
“How many people did you say it took to crew this ship?” Enrique asked.
“The standard crew compliment is two hundred eighty-six,” Ensign Willard told him.
“That’s, like, a dozen less than the Aurora. It doesn’t seem nearly enough for a ship this size.”
“The ship is mostly automated. It takes only a quarter of that number to actually operate her.”
“Then why is this ship so big?” Enrique wondered as they entered a mess hall that was obviously designed to seat more than twice the ships standard crew.
The ensign smiled. “Yes, I can see how that would be misleading.” He pointed to a bank of machines built into the far wall of the great room. “The food is dispensed from those machines.”
Enrique gestured for him to continue moving toward the food dispensers. As they made their way between the rows of dining tables, the ensign continued his explanation. “You see, it is not uncommon for this ship to carry additional assault forces in addition to her operational crew, hence the need for her size and additional space ,” Willard said, gesturing at the size of the mess hall.
“But you’re not carrying any now, right?” Marcus interrupted, looking around as if he expected a squadron of heavily armed men to come charging out from the shadows of the poorly lit room.
“No, not on this patrol. We were on our way to pick up a batch of new recruits to ferry them back to Takara.”
“But you’re a warship,” Enrique said. “Don’t they have other ships to perform those tasks, like troop transports or something?”
“Normally, yes. But resources have been depleted in recent years due to the rebellion.”
“But still, this is hardly a gunboat. This is a heavily armed cruiser. It seems a poor use of resources if you ask me.”
“They don’t ask us,” the ensign said, another small chuckle peppering his otherwise somber tone. “Besides, rumor has it that Captain de Winter has fallen ‘out of favor’ with command.”
“Ah. I see it flows downhill in your military