Project U.L.F. by Stuart Clark Page B

to all head to the rear of the craft where Wyatt could just see parts of the rocket booster assembly. This model of   ship had a solid fuel backup system, should the nuclear generator fail.
    Wyatt craned his head back. The bridge windows appeared as nothing more than tiny black squares, eyes that seemed frighteningly too small to guide something of this magnitude.
    “Why a Caravel class ship? Was this the best you could do?” Wyatt asked.
    Robert stood beside him, he too was admiring the craft, “It was all we had available at the time,” he said dreamily, as if that was explanation enough, and then added, “We had a Clipper class craft come in on Monday but we simply didn’t have the combination of personnel and time to have that ship prepared for you.”
    “Does Mannheim know about this?”
    “Oh yes.” Robert then realized Wyatt’s concern, “Oh, don’t worry, Wyatt. For your return to earth we’ll have all your quarries loaded into a ship we’ve had specially prepared for the occasion. It’s the latest model of the stealth class craft. You’ll be really impressed with it.” He seemed genuinely excited for Wyatt. “Anyway, you’ll have that to look forward to when you get back. For now, we have to get you aboard this one and ready for the liftoff. Come on.” Robert began to walk toward the ship. Wyatt threw his bag over his shoulder and followed.
    As they approached the center of the ship’s underside, a small disc of the fuselage detached and descended toward them, growing like a fifth leg. As it touched down next to them, one side of the cylinder opened and a young engineer stepped out, putting a hand to the tip of his helmet in acknowledgement of their presence before going past them. Wyatt and Robert stepped in and the projection withdrew back into the belly of the craft.
     
    *    *    *    *    *
     
    The lower decks of the Santa Maria consisted mainly of storage areas—stores for the ship and holding pens for captured specimens. Regardless, they were all a maze of dank, dark corridors.
    The lighting arrangement in these craft had always struck Wyatt as rather odd. He looked down at his booted feet and saw the source of the faint fluorescence beneath the huge grate on which he was standing. He shook his head in puzzlement. Robert turned back to see what Wyatt had stopped for. “The cryosleep chambers are on deck five, two below the bridge. We’ll take a lift.”
    Wyatt looked up just as Robert was finishing his comment and caught a glimpse of the scattered light speckled on his face. For an instant he looked more animal than human. The fleeting apparition sent a shiver down Wyatt’s spine.
     
    *    *    *    *    *
     
    Deck five was a pleasant contrast to its higher-numbered counterparts. The corridors were brighter and the floor was solid. Robert and Wyatt turned off the main corridor and into a lengthy room that ran parallel with it.
    Two men on the other side of the room dressed in white overalls rose from their crouched position and turned to face them as they entered. Between their legs Wyatt could see the cryosleep chamber that they had been attending to, like a cocoon set into the sloping wall. Someone had already been “put down,” as they affectionately termed it.
    The chamber already had a thin covering of frost that glistened on the cover glass and obscured the individual’s face so that it appeared as nothing more than an orange ellipse. On the wall behind the chamber, a display was monitoring life signs in a series of colored lines which snaked their way backwards and forwards, some intermittently jumping across the screen while others slowly meandered.
    “When do you plan to have the rest of my team loaded in?” Wyatt asked.
    “Soon. Very soon. They have all been prepped, it’s simply a case of getting them in their chambers.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    One of the men in white overalls took the bag out of Wyatt’s hand and placed it in the hatch above an open