“I hate mornings.”

“No you hate having to get out of bed when it’s cold.” Kevin pointed out, “You had no problems getting up ungodly early when we were living in the islands.” He handed her a bowl of oatmeal as she glared at him.

“That wasn’t getting up early, that was getting up late.” Trish poked the oatmeal with a spoon, then sighed and started eating. “I hate mush too.”

“It’s nutritious mush, and when did I start being your mother?”

“When she turned off my alarm clock.” Bethany gave her daughter a less than amused look as she exited her own sleeping compartment. The planets low-g made moving inside the ship into a complex dance of vectors.

“You needed your rest!”

“What I needed was eight hours sleep. I got twelve.” Bethany took the offered bowl of oatmeal with a nod of thanks and slid into the dining nook with a practiced twist. “So how much did this cost us?”

“Lady Deep is a leviathan, not a whale.” Kevin pointed out, “She’s not going to leave just because we’re running a bit late.”

“I just wish she’d migrate already,” Trish tossed the now empty oatmeal bowl into the galley sink. “I miss the tropics!”

“I’m sure she’ll take that under advisement.” Bethany’s fingers danced over the touchscreen, skimming through reports send from Earth. “Now suit up, we’ve got a long day ahead.”