Once everyone's wounds were treated, Slate consulted with Lee and Smith.
"It'll only be a matter of time before the USM comes around. No doubt they'll be looking for someone to pin the blame on for this. We need to get out of here."
"Well, Steelbourne is the nearest place with airlift access. I say we head there."
"How are we going to get across the water to Steelbourne?" Slate retorted. "It's offshore."
"I thought of that," Lee said. "Just trust me."
Ripley had never seen so much water. It was amazing and terrifying, the way the water, or "the big blue" as Dawson had called it, stretched off into the distant horizon. Lee and the others were setting up some inflatable boats with motors, loading them with supplies from the transport.
Before the hour was out, they were speeding across the dark, salty water. Ripley sat at the front of one of the boats, enjoying the wind and spray on her face. Call sat next to her, amused by Ripley's sense of wonder at something so simple.
"Really beats being stuck on a spaceship, huh," she said. Ripley laughed.
"That is an understatement."
They sped across the water for almost an hour. Slate pointed to the west. "There she is...Steelbourne."
Ripley looked at it wonder. It was a multistory structure, towering over the water like a city building in the middle of the ocean. At its "base", where the water's surface met it, there was a series of floating docks with various types of boats moored nearby. Higher up, near the top, there were platforms for airships and space shuttles. Ripley couldn't see any activity at the moment, but she imagined that this facility could hold a few hundred individuals. For some reason, that didn't feel like a pleasant thought.
Their boats came up to the floating docks, where they moored and stepped off. Johner graciously agreed to carry Vriess on his back, not unlike the way Christie used to. The others kitted up with weapons and supplies. Slate was hoping they would be safe here, but it was better to err on the side of caution.
Just as they were clipping the last of their ammo into place, a man came strolling up, swaying to maintain his balance with the rising and falling of the dock. He appeared to be some sort of attendant, by the clean cut of his uniform. He did not seem appalled at all by the arrival of eight heavily armed people. He grinned and bowed.
"Welcome, welcome to Steelbourne! I am Peter, the dock manager. Please, come this way."
Without asking so much as who they were or why they were here, Peter turned around and strode back the way he had come. Ripley exchanged a glance with Call. There was something weird about the man, but she couldn't quite place it. Perhaps the salty air was messing with her senses. They followed after him, stumbling once or twice before they got used to the swaying of the dock. Peter led them to an elevator. He waved them in. "Push the button for Lobby," he said cheerfully. Catherine will meet you there. She handles guest amenities."
"But we don't want to stay -" Slate tried to say, but the door closed between them. The elevator's door was made of a clear sort of glass or plastic, so the group could see as the elevator went down. It dipped below the water, giving them a spectacular view of the dark, blue expanse of the ocean depths. Huge fish swam past them in schools. The dim outline of a whale moved slowly in the distance.
"I don't like this," Smith muttered. "It feels like being stuck in a trap."
"It's not like we had any other choice," Lee retorted. "Besides, they seem friendly enough here. I mean, guest amenities? Sounds nice. I haven't heard of that on any other shipping facility. If they're that kind, then surely they'd be willing to lend us a ship."
The elevator dropped down into a dark shaft for a moment, before coming out into a bright chamber. The door opened, and everyone stepped out. Ripley looked around in awe. Her genetic memories of Old Earth came alive. It was like they were standing in the lobby of a fancy hotel. The floor was covered in a rich, red carpet. The walls were covered with gold-gilded wall panels. The lighting overhead was soft and pleasant. And everywhere, there were fancy potted plants and furniture and fountains. Unlike the docks, this place seemed to be bustling with activity. There were men and women in red uniforms carrying packages and luggage, and people in what was obviously casual attire were milling about. Everyone was smiling, unbothered by these newcomers that were armed to the teeth.
"What the fuck is this?" Johner muttered.
"I don't know," Vriess said, "but it's like we stepped into the past. It's giving me the creeps."
"No, this isn't the past," someone said. Everyone turned to see a red-headed woman approaching them. She was wearing a business suit and heels. The name placard on her chest read Catherine.
"I'm sure it must be jarring for travelers like you to come into a place like this," she said. "It's still jarring for those of us who live here, to be honest. But we modeled this place after guest houses from the past called hotels, in order to offer any ship crew or traveler a comfortable place to stay. It sure beats a cramped bunkroom, doesn't it?"
"I suppose so," Slate said carefully. "But how many travelers does Steelbourne get? I thought this was mainly for industrial transport."
"Oh, you'd be surprised," Catherine replied. "Adventurers from the space colonies love coming to this area to tour Australia. There's just something fascinating about the one continent on Earth where everything evolved to kill us humans." She shrugged. "I don't understand it, but I can't complain. More business for us."
"Actually, uh, Catherine," Slate said, "we were just passing through. We were hoping you might have an airship or shuttle we could borrow or purchase."
Catherine thought for a moment. "I suppose something could be arranged. We recently acquired a few shuttles. But I have a condition."
Slate braced herself. "Name it."
Catherine smiled. "Allow us to show you a day of hospitality. You poor creatures could obviously use it." She noticed Vriess on Johners's back. "And let's get this gentleman a wheelchair."