Transplant Read Free

little uneasy as he walked on into the unknown regions of the ship.
    As he marched on, he noticed several light tubes in the ceiling of the corridor had burnt out, and no one had bothered to replace them. This could only mean that very few, if any, had been to the book room, or even down this corridor, for a long time.
    A feeling of loneliness overcame Glyn as he hurried on, and he felt even more uneasy as he reached the turn off for the book room. This corridor clearly hadn’t been trodden for some time, as a layer of dust had collected on the floor showing his footprints up as he looked back. The normal dust removal system must have broken down, and no one had noticed. As this wasn’t a vital function of the ship, he supposed the maintenance computer had ignored the fault, leaving it to the humans to repair, if they didn’t like dust.
    Most doors had numbers on them, while some had numbers and their purpose spelt out in letters. Glyn hoped that the book room was one of the latter, as he didn’t know the number of the room and hadn’t thought to find it out before he began his journey.
    Checking each door as he went, he began to wonder if he had passed the room, as the corridor seemed never ending and the only markings on the doors were in numbers.
    A feeling of panic hit hard as he realized that he was cut off from the rest of the ship’s members by a great distance, and if he got lost who would be able to find him?
    He found some relief in the knowledge that the tool collectors knew where he was going, and if the worst came to the worst, and he was missed, they would no doubt set up a search party.
    Feeling a little brighter at the thought of possible rescue, he almost passed the door of the book room in the gloom from a failed lamp.
    The door was clearly marked 235 with BOOK ROOM printed beneath the number. Glyn pressed the usual button in the centre of the door and it obligingly hissed open, revealing a small and cramped chamber beyond.
    He entered the chamber, the door hissed closed behind him, and the old feeling of fear returned. He shook it off, looking around for the air suit he knew he would have to wear in order to enter the actual book room.
    It hung on a peg high up on the wall, a long flexible tube protruding from the back section which then snaked around and disappeared into a socket on the wall.
    As Glyn struggled into the suit, he wondered how they had decided what size to make it, and found the designers had indeed been generous in their specifications, as it hung on him like a lose fitting bag and would therefore fit anyone, if fit was the right word.
    The head gear was a cumbersome thing to have to contend with, and he could well see this was yet another reason why this room wasn’t the most popular one on the ship.
    Clamping the helmet into place, he took a couple of steps towards the entrance door of the room, and was pulled up short by the air hose. Realizing that he would have to disconnect it, he did so, instinctively holding his breath.
    The inner door opened to reveal an odd shaped room, the walls lined with what he thought were the books, with a dim light over a table in the middle. Just inside the door was a socket for the air hose, and he reconnected it hurriedly, gasping in a breath of fresh air.
    The shape of the room wasn’t the normal square or oblong enclosure he was used to, but more reminiscent of the space when several odd shaped rooms were brought together, and the book room was that left over space where they joined.
    He went over to the nearest wall and slowly pulled a book from the shelf where it had rested for several hundred years. Fearful that it might disintegrate, he gently laid it down on the table and opened the cover.
    ‘A Collection of British Butterflies’ adorned the top of the first page, and beneath it was a picture of a butterfly with spread open wings, a glorious golden thing.
    Having never seen one before, Glyn didn’t know what a butterfly actually was, but