The Last Dance

by Martin L Shoemaker

  “Yes, sir.” I tried to sound confident, but part of me was wondering if my injured shoulder could somehow get me out of this duty. It was a huge leap to go from Reed’s aide at Farport to IG over an entire ship and a mutiny case.

  But just then I floated out into the main departure dock, and I didn’t have time to think about backing out of this assignment. The dock was a large open space, as long as the central shaft’s diameter and half as wide. The walls were all painted in shades of gray, but on the far wall were a number of different hatches of different sizes, and each was color coded to identify the vessel docked on the other side. Most were shaded black, indicating an empty dock, but there were seven colors in active use.

  There was a large crowd of spacers filing through two large red-coded troop hatches. Their uniforms were a mix of Admiralty black and services gray. My dozen IG staff in their navy blues were almost lost among the black uniforms. But one waved to me, and then detached himself, pushing away from his handhold and floating over to me. He pulled two travel bags in his left hand.

  “Congratulations, Inspector General Park,” he said as he caught a handhold with his right hand and came to a stop. He was much more at ease in zero gravity than I was.

  “Thank you, Ensign Harrold.” I thought his name might be Matt, but he was still new on the station. Like myself, Harrold had worked directly under Admiral Reed in his last post. I hadn’t worked closely with him before, but I trusted anyone who had learned under Reed.

  Harrold handed me a travel bag, and suddenly I recognized it. “I hope you don’t mind, Inspector, but I swung by your cabin on my way here. I grabbed your ditty bag and your travel bag. And I called the quartermaster on the way and had them pack whatever you usually brought for off-duty wear. I only had a minute to spare, so I hope this will suit you.”

  I smiled. “Ensign, just having my own toothbrush will be a blessing.” My right hand was holding a grip, so I reached out for the bag with my left; but I let out a sharp breath as my left shoulder stabbed in pain.

  Harrold saw the look on my face. “Is something wrong, Inspector?”

  I shook my head, my body swiveling slightly in response. “I injured my shoulder, but I’ll get by. Here, give me my bag.”

  “No, Inspector, I’ll carry it for you.”

  “All right, then we had better get aboard. Lead the way.”

  This time Harrold shook his head, but he kept a steadier control over his body. “No, Inspector. I’ll be traveling with junior officers and enlisted. With your promotion, you’re now a senior officer. You’ll be forward in officer country. That’s a different hatch.” Harrold gestured with the travel bags. I looked where he pointed, and I saw another hatch just lighting up red. Three figures floated near it, all in Admiralty black. “And if I may, Inspector, you had better hurry. I’ll have your bag sent forward to you.”

  Damn. I had wanted to discuss the case with someone I could trust, and Harrold was the only real choice there. But I knew how strict the Admiralty could be on protocol. So I just answered, “Thank you, Ensign.” Then I waited until Harrold pushed off toward his hatch before pushing off toward my own. As I floated closer, the hatch opened, and three stewards in gray uniforms popped out to help the officers board. First aboard was a tall, gray-haired man I had seen around Farport on previous investigations: Admiral Knapp. He looked tense, and he shook off the stewards’ hands as they tried to help him aboard. He pulled himself through the hatch, leaving his luggage for the stewards to fetch.

  Behind Knapp was a woman, another admiral according to her insignia, but I didn’t recognize her. She nodded politely to the stewards as they helped her aboard, and then she turned back to accept her luggage from them.

  The stewards started loading Knapp’s luggage, so the third officer, a chief, turned and surveyed the deck as he waited for his turn to board. He saw me floating toward them, and he reached out his right arm for me to grab. His left hand clung to a grip. Together we slowed my approach until I floated motionless next to him.

  “Welcome,” he said with a smile. He had an upper-crust British accent. “You must be Inspector General Park. I’m Chief Horace Gale. It looks like we shall be cabinmates for this cruise.”

  “Oh?”

  “Excuse me, Inspector,” a steward interrupted, “do you have luggage?”

  I knew better than to try shaking my head again. “No, my aide has mine, thank you.”

  “Here’s mine.” Gale unclipped four bags from a nearby baggage hook, and he handed them to the steward. “There’s a good lad.” Then he turned back to me. “Yes, I’m sorry to say. Oh, not that I’m sorry to have the company of such an attractive officer.” Gale smiled at me, but I didn’t like it. It looked like the smile was something he wore, not something he felt. “I’m just sorry to inconvenience you like this. This shuttle only has three cabins for visiting officers. Admiral Knapp must have his own, of course, and Admiral Morais hers. So that leaves the two of us sharing the remaining cabin. I shall endeavor not to snore.” Then he laughed, but it was no more convincing than his smile.

  A steward floated up to me, a tether floating behind her and back to the hatch. “Can I help you board, Inspector?” Before I could say anything, she took my left arm: gently and respectfully, but still too much for my injured shoulder. I cried out, and she looked worried. “Is something wrong?”

  Without thinking, I shook my head again, twisting my body in her grip, and my shoulder jolted me. “No.” I gasped. Then I caught my breath. “I mean yes, but we’ll deal with it later. Just help me get aboard, but watch my left shoulder.”

  “Yes, Inspector,” she answered. “Jimmy, over here.” Another steward floated closer, and then tugged on his tether as he clasped her hand. “The inspector has a left shoulder injury. Please help her aboard, but carefully.”

  “Certainly. Inspector, can you grab your belt with both hands and pull your arms in?”

  I tried, and my shoulder only hurt a little. “Yes.”

  “All right, just let your legs trail out behind us.” Jimmy grabbed my right shoulder and turned me halfway around, stopping me with another tug on his tether. Then he grabbed the rear collar of my jacket while pulling on his line. I swiveled in midair, and sure enough, my feet swung behind us as Jimmy pulled us along and into the hatch. Looking back, I could see Gale following close behind us.

  When we were inside the hatch, I said, “Thank you, I can take it from here.”

  But Jimmy ignored me. “Begging your pardon, Inspector, but it’s faster if I keep on guiding you. And fewer bumps for that shoulder.” And he certainly knew his job. He pulled me into the rendezvous shuttle and around a corner. He deftly lifted me over the third steward as she went back to secure the hatch. Then he pulled to a stop at one cabin, the hatch opened, and he pulled me in. Never once did he jostle my shoulder.

  Once inside the cabin, Jimmy pulled me over to the outer wall. “If you could hold on here, Inspector.” I grabbed a grip while Jimmy let me go and pushed off to the rear wall. There were two doors in that wall, each larger than a person. He pushed a button near the outer door, and it slid into the wall. Underneath was a large cushion: a combined bed and acceleration couch. “This is your bunk,” he said. “Unless you’re certified for level 6 boost operations, you’ll want to stay in it for most of the trip. Especially with that shoulder.” Jimmy pulled me over to the couch and helped me to settle into it, strapping me down to prepare me for acceleration. Last he helped me to adjust the pillow under my head.

  Meanwhile Gale was preparing his own bunk. He unstrapped his pillow and handed it to Jimmy. “Put this under her injured shoulder.”

  Jimmy shook his head. “I’m sorry, Chief, but you’ll need this for your safety.”

  “Are you questioning my orders, Ensign?” Gale’s voice lost some of its BBC quality, and now it had more of a cockney edge. “For your information, I am certified for level 10 boost ops, so I know what I can handle better than you do. I’m also a certified medic, an
d I want some extra protection for that shoulder. Do I make myself clear?”

  Jimmy’s voice shook a little as he took the pillow. “Yes, sir.” He turned to me and lifted my shoulder to try to place the pillow under it. But though he tried to be careful, I screamed in renewed pain.

  “Bollocks, give me that.” Gale pushed Jimmy to the front of the cabin, where the steward grabbed the wall grip and stopped himself. He had let go of the pillow, and Gale plucked it out of the air. “All right, Inspector, tell me what happened, and where it hurts.”

  I explained the collision and the pain I had felt when I tried to use the arm, and Gale nodded. Gently he probed my shoulder with his fingers, pulling back any time I showed signs of pain. “You’ll need a doctor and an X-ray to be sure, but I think you’ve bruised the ligaments in the socket, and then pulled on them when they were already traumatized. We won’t be able to do much until we get you aboard the Aldrin, but this should get you through boost.” He looked at the pillow. “I’d say this is a little thick. If you have too much under that shoulder, you’re like to get bedsores during boost. Too little and you’ll inflame it more.”

  Gale rolled the cover of the pillow between his fingers. “That’s pretty thick. Maybe . . .” He turned the pillow over and found a seam. He grabbed the cover on either side and pulled; and with surprising strength, he ripped it open. Then he pulled out the inner pillow and smiled. “That’s the ticket. Now, Inspector, this shouldn’t hurt. You’ve got no weight now, so I can move you very gently. But should it hurt at all, it will be only a moment. Ensign?” Gale gestured Jimmy over. Then he unfastened my acceleration straps, slid his right hand under my waist, and pulled me slightly away from the couch. I was impressed with his light touch, as I felt no pain at all. With his left hand Gale slid the pillow in behind me. Then he used gentle pressure on my waist and my right shoulder to press me back against the couch. He held me down as Jimmy again strapped me in.

  Gale smiled at me; and this time his smile looked genuine. “How’s that, Inspector?”

  I smiled back. “No pain. Thank you, Chief.”

  “Right, then. Jimmy, let’s get me strapped in so you can get to your station.” Gale was jovial again, all troubles forgotten, and soon he had Jimmy smiling with him. They strapped Gale into his couch, and then Jimmy left. The cabin door slid shut behind him.

  Jimmy had been gone for less than a minute when I felt my bunk start to shift. “Whoa.”

  Gale laughed next to me. “First time on a high-boost shuttle, Inspector?”

  My throat was suddenly dry, but I answered, “Yes.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said, his tone soothing. “You can’t lie flat at high boost. It’s too hard on your knees. The couch automatically adjusts.”

  Once Gale explained it, I recognized what was happening: the lower end of the couch was bending out, putting me in more of a sitting position with a leg rest supporting my knees and calves. “Does this mean we’re launching soon?”

  Gale started to answer, but a ship’s speaker cut him off. “Attention, all stewards: departure boost in one minute. Secure yourselves. Departure boost in one minute. Level 6 boost alert.”

  “There you go,” Gale answered. “It won’t be long now. You let me know if that shoulder gives you any trouble during boost. We’re not supposed to move around in a level 6 boost, but I am level 10. Why, one time . . .”

  Gale was still telling me stories when the ship started to shake and roar. Suddenly the wall became a floor, and we were lying back upon it as the shuttle sped off for rendezvous with the Aldrin.

  The trip to the rendezvous point took nearly two weeks, and most of it at too high of a boost for me to move around much. I was glad, though, that Gale was free to move around more and go visit other parts of the shuttle, because it gave me some much-needed rest. Traveling with Gale was difficult. He was a conundrum. As a spacer, he knew his stuff. As a medic, he was pretty capable. Once we dropped to level 4 boost, he called in the shuttle’s medic, and they conferred on my shoulder. They agreed that I needed it immobilized, and that I needed painkillers. So the medic fitted me with a sling to keep it immobile; but he kept looking to Gale for confirmation. I think he recognized that Gale was a better field medic than he was.

  But as a person? Gale was annoying in so many ways. First, he was something of a letch. We get those in the services, just like in civilian society, but it can get pretty difficult in the close quarters of a station or a ship. Gale never openly leered, but his not leering was pretty obvious, like he was making an effort not to look when the medic applied a dressing to my shoulder. And in casual conversations, he kept “accidentally” dropping comments about my appearance. I’m sure he thought he was charming, and maybe many women found him so. I don’t know, but I didn’t. I finally had to point out that he was making me uncomfortable. After that he watched his words more carefully, but I still felt like he was trying to charm me.

  And second, Gale seldom stopped talking, and a lot of his talk was boasting about himself and all his missions. I had no real reason to doubt him, but it just seemed so unlikely that one person could be the hero of so many adventures. So I took everything he said with a grain of salt.

  Still, there was one mission Gale never talked about, the one mission he was famous for. So late in the voyage, when there was a lull, I asked him, “Chief, how come you never talk about the Bradbury?” Gale was silent for so long, I worried about him. “I’m sorry, Chief, did I say something wrong?”

  Gale cleared his throat. “No, Inspector, it’s just that’s the mission where I served under Captain Aames. I didn’t want to say anything that might prejudice your investigation.”

  “Oh. I see.” I appreciated Gale’s reticence, but he sounded uncomfortable, like that wasn’t his entire reason. He had piqued my curiosity, though. I wanted to know his other reasons. Besides, it would give me the opportunity to determine where I needed to dig deeper for facts and possible secrets. “I can keep my objectivity, Chief. You don’t need to worry.”

  Gale hesitated again, but then he continued, “Please understand, Aames was a good man once. There’s no denying that he saved our lives on the second Bradbury expedition. With a little help from me, of course, and the rest of our crew. But he just lost his way, he didn’t keep up with the times. He took a desk job after that, for some reason, and I think it made him bitter. More bitter, I should say, and even more arrogant. I stayed active in exploration, and I applied the lessons I had learned from him. The most important of those was how vital it was for spacers to have a say in their own missions. We’re the ones who have our arses on the line, after all, so we should decide where that line is. Captain Aames never shut up about ‘eyes on-site’ and ‘local control,’ so he should’ve been a big supporter when I and a bunch of senior spacers decided to set up a certifying body. Our Space Professionals should have been perfect for him, a chance for spacers to speak to the Admiralty as a unified voice with credibility and respect. He should’ve been thrilled that spacers would have a say in planning their missions, not just have everything run from central command.”

  Gale paused and took a drink. “But Aames would have nothing to do with us. He turned us down flat. He said, ‘That would be trading one central command for two. That’s a step in the wrong direction.’

  “I argued, ‘You’re missing the point completely, Nick.’

  “But he refused to listen. ‘I understand just fine, Horace.’ Lord, how I hated the way he pronounced my name, always full of scorn. ‘Your Space Professionals will become a damned guild, standing between me and my crew.’

  “I tried to reason with him. ‘You don’t have a crew, Nick, you have this bloody desk. And we’re not a guild at all, just a certifying body. We’re trying to raise the level of professionalism in space.’

  “Aames glared at me. ‘You can call it whatever you want. I judge it by what it does. It’s still protecting people who don’t know what they’re doing. Stand in the right line, fill in the ri
ght forms, put in the right time, and bingo. Get the right rewards, whether you’ve earned them or not.’

  “I said, ‘But putting in the time is earning them.’

  “But Aames shook his head. ‘Bullshit. Putting in the time means nothing if you’re not learning and growing. It doesn’t mean you know what you’re doing. That’s not certification, it’s clock punching. I see a lot of reports come across this desk, so I know all about the Everett case. If I had been commander of the Hercules, Everett would’ve been busted down to astronaut third class. Instead he pled to your SPs, and they interceded with Captain Milton. So Everett was still in a position to screw up again, and he lost a leg that time. Yeah, that showed a lot of professionalism.’

  “‘That was just one case,’ I objected.

  “‘One of many,’ Aames answered, ‘and that number is growing. And worse, I hear some in the Admiralty are starting to endorse your group. It’s easier for them to accept your word than to do their own evaluations, and they get less trouble if they go along with your so-called certification.’

  “I was getting offended, but I held my temper in check. ‘Nick, if you doubt us, check out our certification exams. We could use someone with your reputation.’

  “‘You could use me?’ Aames asked, and I nodded. ‘Then let me write the standards, and oversee their administration.’

  “‘Absolutely!’ I was pleased to finally make some progress with him. ‘We can put you on the committee—’

  “But Aames cut me off. ‘No committee, just me. If I want a committee, I’ll form one from people I trust.’