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. All the doors were automatic sliding panels, with override controls built into the bulkheads.
The corridor dead-ended. Rowan indicated a ladder leading upward.
"Great," Armstrong muttered. He began to climb awkwardly, dragging a small duffel bag behind him. "I'm glad I packed light."
Rowan followed, moving almost as slowly and awkwardly as Armstrong. After a laborious climb, the two men reached the top, paused to watch a crewman slide down the ladder with ease, not even bothering to use the rungs. Looking up, she flashed them a grin. Both men looked at each other, shook their heads dolefully, and continued on.
"This is the forward mess," Rowan said. "Hopefully we have a cook this trip. Living off frozen and/or dehydrated meals can be hell." He took a brief survey, nodded his head. "This is fine. Really first class. Even a bar." He opened cabinet doors, peered inside. "Wellzstocked, too."
Armstrong smiled politely, glanced at the bar without interest.
Doesn't drink, Rowan decided. "Do you play cards? Ante-up? Bridge?" He indicated several tables, surrounded by comfortable-looking chairs. The mess was the focal point of life for the crew, who used the room for meetings and recreation as well as eating. "We'll have enough for a foursome when we hook up with Xris and Ito."
"No, sorry." Armstrong shrugged. "Never learned. Where did you say our rooms are?"
Taking the hint, Rowan led the way to their quarters
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