Read Quozl for Free Online

secondary tasks be seriously neglected.
    Or as she put it, “You must control your internal drives if the rest of us are to efficiently manage that of the ship.”
    Her sense of humor went a long way toward relaxing the most nervous among the crew. By the time Engineering actually commenced its countdown the atmosphere aboard had mellowed from the orgiastic to the merely anxious.
    No one knew what it would feel like to return to normal space. They could only refer to the texts and try to imagine. And when it finally took place it did so in a Fashion that, as so often happens with events anxiously anticipated, was greatly anticlimactic.
    Looks-at-Charts was walking toward the center recreation center when it happened. As the final countdown issued from the wall speakers he paused for a deep breath. When it was done he felt no different. The interior of the Sequencer and his fellow Quozl looked no different. It was the universe that had changed. Once more he was part of real time, real space. There was that knowledge. That and the fact that somewhere before them, very near now, lay their new home. Shiraz. An entire world instead of a metal droplet floating through emptiness. They would make it Quozl.
    Someday his children’s children would refurbish the Sequencer or build another ship like her and return to ancient Quozlene to proclaim their success. The new generation would meditate at the place of Elders. Looks-at-Charts would not be among them. He would be one of those they would meditate upon. In addition to the more mundane elements necessary to the establishment of a new colony the Sequencer also carried with it a sense of history and of destiny.
    Now that the transition back to normal space had been accomplished, the recreation center was filling up rapidly. There was no coupling taking place here. This was not a designated area. Instead it was a place to come to view entertainment portrayed on oversized viewers, to listen to localized music which changed as you strolled from one acoustic bubble to the next, to study art traditional and modern, and to invest your skill in a game or two. A great place to relax and meet other members of the colonial team.
    The psychologists insisted on this. It was vital, they insisted, that a ship’s complement not become socially stratified. That engineers mix with ergonomists. The ship’s engines weren’t all that had to be kept operating in tandem.
    Looks thought he saw High-red-Chanter off in the distance manipulating a triple whirl. The globular machine spun and dipped like a drunken gyroscope as the two riders strove for position. You won by obtaining a predetermined tactical position—and by not throwing up.
    As he moved deeper into the complex he spotted Flies-by-Tail chatting with two other females. There was a good chance she would be the one chosen to pilot the initial survey vessel. As she turned, her gaze settled on him and her ears danced eloquently. His first though was to invite her to the nearest coupling chamber, but now was not the best time. He meditated briefly, forcing down the familiar feelings. Perhaps on the surface of Shiraz, he mused. That would be another footnote for the history texts.
    They greeted one another politely and she ordered cool refreshments from one of the ubiquitous service machines. The acoustic bubble she’d chosen was mid-level traditional mixed with a few unobtrusive electronics. Soothing but not stupefying. Around them Quozl burned off excessive energy. There was plenty to burn in the excitement of having returned to normal space.
    â€œI saw the imaging,” she said softly. “It looks to be a pretty place.”
    â€œShiraaazzz.” He stretched the concluding whistle, sipped from a long twisted drinking tube. “Hopefully it will live up to its name. If not we will tame it.”
    â€œConfidence in a scout is invaluable. Overconfidence can be dangerous.”
    â€œIsn’t it the same with