The ship thrummed with subtle life as Junebug headed down the companion way. Entering the Rip usually required a good deal of velocity and the engines were running up at several G's worth of inertia, as much as the gravity pumps could compensate for. It was possible to accelerate faster, much faster  but once the gravity compensators were overwhelmed it would get dangerous for the crew both in terms of gforces and in keeping their orientation with the hull. It would also have the unfortunate effect of stressing the hull and damaging components, something Junebug, a penniless captain of a somewhat less than new ship, was keen to avoid. 

The Highlander was off a split decked design, aft of the cockpit were four sets of cabins, each little larger than a prison cell and divided by movable metal bulk heads, as well as a simple head and shower combination. Following that the corridor opened up onto the main hold, a two story tall void which was accessible via dropping the port and starboard ramps when on the ground. Behind that was the engineering section, a nest of closely packed machinery clustered around the magnetically sealed engineering compartment in which squatted the quietly thrumming fusion bottle. Beneath the living quarters was a small multipurpose space which Junebug guessed was a combination kitchen, mess and infirmity as wall as an impressively large machine shop. There were a number of familiar tools but there seemed little in the way of spare parts, whatever had been in stock had either been exhausted by use or traded away.

Sayeeda guessed that she could probably move a pair of combat vehicles in the main hold and perhaps a company worth of men and equipment if they didn't mind being packed in like cattle. It seemed wasteful to be flying with the space open but there had been no time or extra money to fill the hold with trade good for Savran. Junebug didn't know what sort of trade goods were in demand on Savran but she would have gone with weapons. There was a war on after all and even if there wasn't humans seldom needed excuses to arm themselves to the teeth. In addition to the formal rooms there were a network of access hatches and maintenance shafts to let the crew get at more esoteric parts of the ship. The highlander had a port and an aft airlock and Sayeeda was relieved to see that both airlocks had eva suits. She touched the suits integral sensor and was gratified when it came to life and reported the suit integrity as 100 percent.

She traced her steps back to the galley/surgery and pulled open the cupboards. There were no medications beyond the standard type of first aid kits one finds in motor vehicles of all sorts but there were several crates of what looked to Sayeeda to be protein rations. The serial numbers suggested they were less than a decade old, which, all things considered was unusually fresh. She was tearing one of the boxes open when she heard Neil's foot steps ringing on the metal companionway. She pulled a powered knife from her pocket and, not bother to power it on, cut the seal on one of the ration boxes. The familiar smell of preservatives and industrial carboydrates floated out and she took a bar of compressed cellulose from is packet and bit into it, chewing determinedly. 

"Well? What do you think of her," she called to her pilot as he stepped through the hatch. 

"Think they have any coffee?" she asked with the doubtful but hopeful tone that people used to bad news but not willing to give up on optimism manage to perfect.

[@POOHEAD189]