by Robert Culp
“Tammuz!” he spits, “I told Robert that dump was an intellectual wasteland—sorry lass, ye were sayin’?”
“In town I was asking what is it you do here, they told me you don’t even have electricity. But that was not a gas stove I used to make the tea. So what do those machines in your basement run on? Surely not internal combustion!”
“What do I do? A little o’this, and a little o’that. And those towners be damned! I have the biggest generator in the MiddleLands. As well as a photovoltaic system and a few carefully disguised wind turbines. I just like livin’ simple when I’m not a’workin. Engines, eh? Ye sure did follow in your Grandmummie’s footsteps. If ye must know, I build power cells. Good ones, too. I still get top price for ’em.”
“Da always said engineering runs in the family. Perhaps I’ll be buyin’ some of those cells for personal projects. The lads on the ship always want their Strike Armor to be lighter, stronger, faster, and such. And also, thank ye for the key, we may make it back to Tammuz from time to time, but it’s nice to know that there’s another place I’ll be able to call home. And before I leave, don’t let me forget to give you my ship name, my perCom code and all that other contact data. Now that I’ve found you, I don’t want to lose ye again.”
He shakes a finger in my face. “You call anyplace other than the inside of that fence ‘home’ and I’ll tan your tiny, shiny hiney!” I join the laughter when I see the twinkle in his eyes. “And the power cells are not that little. They’re for the MagTrains.”
“MagTrains, eh? Well the lads are strong, but they’re no’ that strong.” We both laugh.
We spend the afternoon telling tales of family that the other has missed. The sun begins to dip, it will be dark in a few hours. “Well, Uncle, I suppose it’s time I’m gettin’ back to the inn. I’m guessing it wouldn’t do for me to be wandering down the hills in the dark.”
“I’ll be hearin’ none of it. You stay right here as long as you like, lass. There’s a lot of rooms that have no one in ’em, I’ll not have you spendin’ money on something when a something wi’ no charge is available. But I know ye’ve a life and things to do. True, I can’t match Iris’s cooking, but I’ve not killed anyone yet.”
“Well, you are a peach, aren’t you? I’ll do it then. I’ll need to go back in the morning to fetch my kit, but I’ll be back. I’m on shore leave, and who better to spend it with than family?”
On paper and in theory, I’m on vacation. But a day I don’t learn something, I consider a day wasted. So over the days that follow I assist Uncle Angus in his workshop as much as he’ll let me. He teaches me quite a lot about fuel cell technology; not only practice but theory as well. He shows me the components and a few of his favorite wrench spinning tricks. I stay the rest of the week then prepare to leave for the tropics. Scotia is beautiful, but a bit chilly for me to work on my tan. At our last breakfast he bids me a teary farewell and gives me a special number to a person who can always get word to him quickly. “Should the need arise.” And that’s all he’ll say on the subject. For a parting gift he hands me a blanket of the MacTaggert tartan.
This train ride is longer than the one from Yucca to the MiddleLands, but this one is crossing two continents and an ocean. I make use of the ride to fiddle with my armor designs. I find some flaws and make the necessary changes to the designs. Freddie should be happy. The original design called for a cable from the shoulder of the armor, which the Trooper had to plug into the weapon. The cable would get tangled and throw off the sighting, or snag on something and get disconnected. It makes sense to put that connection in the glove of the armor; in the pinky finger to be specific. The Trooper just has to pick up the weapon, hold it properly, and he’s connected. Am I the first to think of this?
After most of a day, subjectively of course, the train arrives at the station in Lemuria. I don’t like traveling into the day, west to east, on this planet. It makes the time pass at a faster than normal rate. The local chronometers say it’s tomorrow at noon, my body clock says it’s almost bedtime today. I confirmed my hotel reservation on the train, so the room is ready for me. I go to my room and move my clothes from my duffle to drawers and hangers. The one dress I brought is hopelessly wrinkled so I put it in the hotel laundry bag for pressing. I’m tempted to fall across the bed and sleep, but I learned a long time ago that the best way to avoid time lag is to stay up until the locals go to sleep and get up when they do. So instead, I do what any girl would do in my stead: I go shopping.
I find a nice boutique and get a scarlet bikini with a gossamer jacket to go over it and some local evening wear. Jimmy would not approve of the bikini. Publicly. The climate is tropical, so it’s very lightweight, and a bit on the revealing side. After stashing the bags in my room, I change into the bikini and toss the jacket over one shoulder, then wander to the lounge for something to do.
I pick up a few pamphlets in the lobby and stroll out to the pool to peruse them. There’s a tourist trip out to a sand bar. It’s a touch above pocket cash, but I sign up. I’ve never imagined intentionally touching a stingray before; I always thought of them as dangerous. But it’s true; they really are the pussycats of the sea. I spend a week swimming, sunning—just relaxing. I wish Avi or Aria had come with me, though. I’m surrounded by people, but feel very lonely. I try to call Avi a few times but I never get an answer. However, I receive three marriage proposals and place third in the Miss Lemuria Beach competition. The twenty thousand credit prize sends my ego through the roof.
I gently but firmly rebuff two of the proposals. The third fellow is a bit more persistent. His wife, soon to be ex-wife I gather, helps me help him get the message. It’s sure to leave a nasty scar, but he’ll be able to walk. Within the year, anyway.
On day sixteen of my leave I call Mack. “I’d like to head back today and take a leisurely look at the engines before we boost. Will that be a problem?”
“Not at all, I need to talk to you anyway.”
That’s the best news I’ve heard in quite a while. My time in Scotia with Angus was restorative, and my time in Lemuria gave me experiences of a lifetime that I will probably never experience again. But I have missed the ship. I’ve missed Gorb, I’ve missed Mack, and my other new friends. It’s time to go back.
It takes me only a few minutes to pack my duffle bag and gather up a few odds and ends that won’t travel well in it. Then I slip into a pair of khaki shorts, sandals and a tee shirt and take the train back to the starport. This time I sleep most of the way. I have to credit Uncle Angus for his brilliance. I told him before I left Scotia about all the men who interrupted my sleep trying to chat me up. He handed me an envelope and said, “Set this on the seat next to you. Make sure they can see it. They’ll leave you be.” And it works like a charm. I pull it out and read it again. It’s printed on a piece of letterhead from the Foundation to Halt the Spread of Communicable Disease, complete with a biohazard warning sign:
Miss Campbell, it is our sad duty to inform you that you have indeed tested positive for (a phrase that is very long of which I’d never heard but have since learned is Ancient Atlan of the Golian rendering of the Martian words for “The young lady with the beautiful red hair desires to be left alone.”). As you know, this disease is terminal. We recommend you set your personal affairs in order and find a long-term care facility at once. We must also urge you in the strongest language possible to limit your intimate encounters to those similarly afflicted only, as this malady has been proven to defeat all methods of barrier sexual protection.
Regards, Dr. Adrian Kartofflnkobpf
I sleep like a log.
I knock on the door to the Lead Engineer’s Office before pushing the door open. “After two weeks of whirlwind travel, I’m back. What’s on your mind, Boss? Boss?” There’s nobody here. I do a quick look around and find Gorb in workshop four. “Gorb, where’s Mack?”
“Mack sick. In hospital.”
9 PROMOTED
To be specific, Mack is in I
ntensive Care.
When I get to medical, I find him sitting in a bed. Doc Traynor is inserting an IV catheter into the back of his hand. Needa has his other hand monitoring his radial pulse. “According to her,” his eyes cut to Dr. Traynor, “I have a degenerative bone and tissue disease,” he tells me. “Doc says I will be bed ridden for a long period. Which is good, because I’ve always enjoyed being ridden in bed.” His laugh is weak and involves some coughing. Productive coughing. Needa holds a container for his expectoration. “But I wanted to stay aboard. You are now in probationary charge of Engineering. I am here to guide you via perCom and you will give me a status report every day no later than 0900.” He must be reading the expression on my face. “You can do this. You’re going to need to use Gorb to his full potential; you’ve barely scratched his surface. And you will need to make it a point to meet the other team leads—at your convenience, of course.”
“Wow,” is all I can say. “You sure know how to deflate a girl. I admit I want your job, but this isn’t how I wanted to get it. I wanted you promoted, not sidelined. But I appreciate your confidence and will do my very best.”
“These things happen in life. You will report to Aria unless something Really, Really Bad happens. In that circumstance you will report directly to the Captain. Now get out of here, I’ll see you no later than zero nine.”
“Yes, sir.” I start to go but stop. “Is this something you’re going to be able to kick or...do you know?”
“I’m not sure but I bloody hope so. Otherwise I’m pulling the plug or jumping out the airlock or punching Aria in the nose. You know, something that is certain to end in death.” Another weak laugh. This cough ends with more brown mucus going into the waste bin. He can’t see Avi standing behind him. But I can, Avi’s eyes meet mine. He gently shakes his head from side to side.
I look back to Mack, “Hang in there. I’ve got this, but I reserve the right to come to you for help, advice, or,” my eyes dart to Avi then back to Mack, “a shoulder to cry on.”
“You had bloody well better. If you need me and don’t come find me and I find out about it, I will heal just long enough to kick your pretty butt. And why don’t you have a boyfriend yet? Trust me, life is too damn short, chick. I’m a Chief Engineer with a doctorate, we know these things.”
I open my eyes very wide and look all around the room. “Mom, is that you? How did you get aboard?” I turn and yell over my shoulder, “Doc! Come quick! Mack is channeling my mother!” She looks up at me with a slightly frosted gaze. Her eyes bore into me with laser-like intensity; I literally shiver and go back to behaving myself.
“I only ask because I care,” he says.
“I know. And I’m still unattached by choice. Primarily because I’m looking for more on the ‘friend’ side than the ‘boy’ side. And for the record I have several boyfriends. They have boyfriends also, but that’s beside the point.”
I go back to the LEO and learn as much as I can about what was done in dry-dock and what still needs attention. I find the Captain’s timetable in my inbox. Oh boy. I call Aria. “I don’t see any way I can meet the Captain’s timetable. I need to hire someone to backfill me. Three sets of hands can run this division. Two can’t, not for any length of time.”
“That is not an issue,” Aria tells me. “Doctor Sinnair and the Captain have already taken steps to remedy that shortcoming. We have an Engineer in TMOD, one Virginia Berry. The doctor is bringing her out of stasis as we speak. She will be at your disposal within seventy-two hours. She was cargo, now she will be crew. Night Searcher will leave dry dock in two hours.”
A Minimal Life Function Transit Module, or TMOD, is a way of traveling in suspended animation. The passenger is kept alive but only barely. They don’t need to breathe as much, they don’t eat or drink. The manufacturers say it’s a very safe way to travel and for the colonial ships, it makes a lot of sense. An entire colony can be moved from one planet to another without having to also carry food and water to support them. It’s too close to dead for my personal tastes. What I have trouble understanding is why they put her in cold storage rather than just throw her off the ship; maybe for just such an emergency as this.
Right on time the ship slips her mooring and easily glides to a parking orbit. Once she is fully loaded we leave Earth for Neptune with stops at Goliath and Atlas en route. I haven’t been to any of those worlds. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve green lighted the bridge for Transit, but for me it’s still an adventure, even though the new has worn off, now that the scope of my job is expanding.
Atlas was the second home of Dreaded Knight and by extension Peter Scholnich. Maybe I can find a set of PeteArmor in a museum or something.
Gorb bounds into the LEO later. “I mished you Shownya. Were you on a trip?”
“Hi, buddy. I missed you, too. I have a chocolate bar, would you like half?” Without waiting for his answer, I pull the candy from my sleeve pocket and break it in half. I hand him the bigger piece and wrap up the remnants and return it to my pocket. “Matter of fact,” I tell Gorb, “I did take a trip. I went to see my uncle in Scotia, then spent some time at the beach. Did you do anything fun?”
“Yum smack-smack candy! Thank you. I was busy working. I built a laser sight for Mr. Freddie’s shotgun. But I hid the dot, hee hee hee!” I hope that means he used an infrared laser. If not, I’m sure I’ll hear about it.
“I’m sure Freddie will like that. Have I shown you the specs for the armor Mack asked me to work on?” The pressing of a few buttons orders the holoCom to display the specs on the wall monitor. “They want something stronger but lighter with a few more gee-whiz things. My biggest concern right now is cooling and power conservation. The heads up display is going to suck down a lot of juice all by itself. And the ballistics computer that can calculate aiming points for distant or indirect targets. I don’t know of one small enough and durable enough to fit the bill.”
“Armor protects friends! Gorb will help!” Gorb’s brow wrinkles as he studies the diagram. “If you will allow me, I will work on the power transformer. Perhaps it drains the primary coupler too hard.” In a flash, his brow relaxes. “Gorb will help!! Yummm, Shownya brought good candy!!! Wheeeeeeee!” He picks his feet up and spins around in the chair. He’s happy. I wish I could feel joy like that. He’s a great right arm. I understand why Mack keeps him around. He helped me learn the engine systems at light speed. I would never have been able to get where I am without him. He stops suddenly, “And the F37 Battle Comp should do what you need.”
I know I have a lot of stuff to tend to, but before I get sidetracked I contact Freddie. “That Jack fellow I introduced to you, did you hire him?”
“Yep, he’s on board. Good eye, girl. He’s a crackerjack troop. I’m gonna ask the old man for a referral bonus for you. He’s in…where are you…there you are. He’s in D-23, not far from you. He wanted to see you, but I told him to leave the girls alone until they call him. Courtesy, you know.”
“Thanks for the potential bonus, but I’m just looking out for my buds. I figure if you have the good guns behind you to keep you safe, the two of us can hang out and pick up guys together.” He’s my friend; I can’t just make it nothing.
“Me? Pick up guys with you? Yeah, that might happen…in a parallel dimension. I have standards and an image to protect. Besides the grapevine says you have a lot on your plate right now.”
“Yeah, but I’m not in a place I can talk about it yet. Speaking of grapevines, I hear you got promoted, squat leader or something. Congratulations.”
“Platoon sergeant. But it would be ‘squad’ with a ‘d’, like in ‘dimwit’ or ‘dingbat.’ Yeah, I did. Thanks. Deputy Chief Sergeant if you want to get picky. Someone must be happy with the way I do business.” I can hear the smug rascal grinning. “And I don’t recall asking for your permission to recommend anybody for anything. Carry on, squatter.”
“Later, pillow biter.”
When I’ve done what needs doing for the
day, I go knock on the door to Stateroom D-23. To my surprise, a woman answers the door. “Yes? Who are you? What do you want?”
“Oh! Hi, I’m Sonia.” I guess he’s found another kitty to scratch. Damn, I was looking forward to a good romp from time to time. “I was going to say hi to Jack. We met back on Earth, just tell him…” I can’t believe how fast it happens.
The bitch lunges at me, reaching for my throat. I backpedal like crazy. What is her problem? I windmill my arm at hers, pushing her to one side. She reaches for me again. Her fingernails scratch my cheeks and neck. She gets one, then her other hand, around my throat. She starts squeezing. I hear a roaring in my ears. My tongue feels thick in my mouth. My knees buckle. “Stay away from my man!” she screams over and over. It seems like hours, but it’s probably only seconds before her hands leave my throat. Aria has seized her by the arm and slammed her into the bulkhead. Aria doesn’t have a hair out of place. She holds the banshee by the wrists. The banshee continues to struggle until Aria squeezes her hands, bending the bitch’s wrists in one of the directions they aren’t meant to go. She calms down. Two security officers arrive and take the woman from Aria. The security men click handcuffs closed behind her. Aria helps me to my feet.
I cough a few times and focus on the woman struggling against being bound. “What is your problem, bitch?” I take my gaze from her to Aria. “If anybody is looking for me, I’ll be in the LEO.” I’m not hurt, just embarrassed. And more than a little pissed off. I’d just like to know what I did to deserve that. I’ve been called many things, but “home wrecker” is not among them. I’m hurrying away, almost running. I hear Aria speak as she quickly catches up to me.
“Do not concern yourself, Sonia,” she tells me, putting a hand on my cheek. “Delford brought his girlfriend aboard, but she is going to get spaced if she does not start behaving. I would not give her another thought, dear one. That woman spelled trouble from the day she came aboard. Sergeant Call convinced the Captain to bring her on with Delford. I opposed it. It looks like I owe the Captain an ‘I told you so.’ Perhaps you should stop by Med Bay? I am certain you could convince Dr. Took to give you a quick evaluation. I will tell Gorb you have been detained.” That is hands-down the best advice I’ve heard in quite a while. I can’t even speak. I just nod. I feel my throat tightening.
