"Oh, Mr Scotty, you didn't tell me this was one of THOSE cruises. I would have brought the emerald green boxers had I known. That way I'm not out of uniform if you know what I mean..."
Seabourne sat up on the floor and gazed around the scene, noticing the smashed grapefruit.
"Huh, didn't know the crew infirmary was rated for masectomies. In any event, we best be moving on. I imagine that shot has a prophylactic effect, which is doubly good if it's one of those kinds of cruises."
He winked at Scotty with both eyes simultaneously, which was disconcertingly somehow different from a blink.
"Onward and upwards! We'll take a manlift back to more civilized country," said Seabourne as they left the infirmary and took a left in the corridor. "One aspect to note is that orbital ships are designed with gravity in mind. Only engineering has zero-g work accommodations, mostly under the assumption that if things are going wrong the first thing repair crews will do is reestablish the artificial fields. Of course, given how deep those systems are in the ship, anything powerful enough to take out gravity is also probably powerful enough to crush an Enterprise class like an insolent walnut. There are emergency bulkheads to seal off sections of the ship, of course. Each stateroom can likewise be locked down, but that really only delays the inevitable. If you're in house space, there's enough air to last you until a patrol comes along. If you're elsewhere, c'est la vie as our Gallic friends would say."
The pair arrived at a manlift, a 3 foot wide hole in the ground and ceiling with a long chain of handles and small platforms continuously moving up on a vertical conveyer belt. It's twin was doing the opposite duty next to it. Seabourne grabbed a handle when it was at shoulder height and stepped onto the next foothold as it pulled him up.
"Mind the gap, or you'll find yourself getting a rather intimate tour of three decks of the Orlando simultaneously, and we are NOT dressed for that kind of party!"
