by Robert Culp
A green light blinks on the keyboard. Mack has responded: Hey, girlie, thanks. Yes, I have a will. Aria can access it. I need a favor: I need you be my executrix. I want my house and my estate to go to my daughter, Catherine. I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me, kiddo. Please tell Aria and she will handle the legalities and details. I don’t think I have much time.
Doc smiles at me. “That’s how things happen around here, honey. Don’t blink; they might make you the Captain. And that’s very sweet of you!! I will turn seventy-one in a few months. And you’re not exactly twenty miles of bad road either. I’m confident—and a bit pleased—that my son has caught your eye. I told him not to tell you he and I are related, so if you want to be angry about it, I am your target. You will find Avi to be a good man. And girl, he is so sweet on you. I mean in a big way. And as his supervisor, coworker, and mother if you go out of your way to hurt him…”
“Acknowledged. You’ll do my autopsy and sign off on ‘natural but undetermined causes.’ I got it. I know I may look like one of those girls, but I’m not. I can’t promise happily ever after, but I can promise we’ll both suffer if we break up. And thanks back to you—just like I told him—Avi has a refreshingly sweet, gentle spirit. His was a comfortable shoulder to cry on last night. I really like him, too. I’m curious what the future holds for us. Wait, you’re seventy-one? What’s your secret? I hope I wear my age as well as you do when it’s my turn.”
I type in a response to Mack: I’ll hate it, but I’ll do it. I’ll have Aria access it and set all the wheels in motion.
Doc grins slyly. “I’m not going to give up all my secrets, but part of it is aerobics and stretching three times a week. One glass of red wine daily, and only with meals. Keep the saturated fats low. Watch the carbs. And for a flat stomach? I’ve found the Backward Cowgirl with an exaggerated lean rearward to be effective.” She winks at me. “If you can work it in with the aerobics, remember to keep tension in your abs. And if you can rock back and forth…”
“Enough!” I clap my hands to my ears. I can’t hear this from my boyfriend’s mother! I’ll be in therapy for years! “It’s always the quiet ones. Who would have guessed that beneath that sweet country doctor exterior pulses the heart of a tigress in heat?”
She beams at me. “You know it, girl. Now go get some alone processing time, down time if you will. You need it. Doctor’s orders.”
“‘Down time’ she says. From your lips to Horus’s ears. I’ve got too many brushfires to stomp out.”
Mack’s green light is blinking. If the question comes up, no, I don’t want to be kept alive indefinitely on any damned machine or in one of those TMOD sarcophagi. I’m already there, and Aria has strict orders to shut it off if I am not better in three days. And the clock started with this coma this morning. As far as my last wishes, don’t give Gorb all the chocolate at once. I’m serious.
A light on the tube turns amber. “He’s asleep.” Doc says, “You can still send messages but his responses would be random gobbledygook as his brain ‘takes out the garbage,’ as they say.
“Would you like to meet your new staff member?” She leads me to a bed in another room. Avi looks up and smiles at both of us as he hangs the patient’s new IV bag. “Ginny, this is Chief MacTaggert. Sonia this is Virginia Berry. Dr. Took, are there any improvements?” she asks. Ginny is just this side of sleeping.
“Her fever is gone and she’s hydrating normally.” He looks at me and explains. “She has a bit of hibernation sickness. Not completely unexpected, but still pretty rare considering her age. Too bad we don’t have her complete medical history.”
“I’m guessing there was something inside her sarcophagus,” Doc opines, “Even the most astringent cleansers miss something every now and again. Given the temperature drop and the oxygen starvation, I would have expected it to die, but it must be a tough little bug.”
As Virginia’s eyes flutter open, she tries to sit up. Avi pushes down on her shoulders.
“No you don’t. You stay right where you are,” I tell her. “They will let you know when to get up. And you’ll probably wish you could have stayed in bed.”
“We’ll need to keep her a little longer than expected.” Avi says. “She should start physical therapy tomorrow to work the kinks out. Two days after that, she’ll be walking unassisted. Two days after that, she’ll be spinning wrenches for you. So…four days?”
“Good deal. Keep me posted.” I turn to Ginny. “Make it five days. You’ll want one for acclimation, in-processing, settling into your quarters, all that administrivia.”
“Yes ma’am, thank you,” she says.
When I get back to the LEO, I call Aria. I could have called her from Medbay, but I wanted time to get my thoughts together. “Mack Sinnair has asked me to be the executrix of his will which he says you can access. I have consented. I’m sure you’ll need his confirmation, but please access the will as quickly as possible. My biggest concern is his refusal to be kept alive artificially.”
“Of course. We will go over it tomorrow. I will take care of everything. You rest and get some processing time. He told me in no uncertain terms that he did not want to be kept alive unnaturally.”
“‘Rest’ I think I’ve heard of that. I suppose you’ll inform the Captain?”
“I will take care of everything. Now rest, Sonia.”
I call Gorb in. “If you haven’t heard, I’ve been named Chief Engineer. It doesn’t look like Mack has much more time. If you want to go by the Med bay to say goodbye, feel free to do so.”
Gorb’s face screws up in anxiety. “No!” he shouts and pounds his hands on the desk, “No goodbyes! Goodbyes make me sad.”
Time to change the subject. “Okay. You’ve been aboard longer than I have. Can you tend the engines, and I’ll look after the other things, or should we do it the other way round?”
“I work in Engineering and will do whatever Chief Shownya says! If that’s engines, that’s okay. ‘Gorb loves to help!!’ Everyone says it; so it must be true.” Is he crying?
“And Sonia likes to give Gorb puzzles. And chocolate.” I hand him a piece of a candy bar and a twisted wire puzzle I got in the recreation area.
“Puzzles and chocolate!! Wheee!!!!” He bounds out of my office with a huge grin on his face.
I wish I could get that happy from a piece of candy and a few pieces of metal. As he walks away, I ask my holoCom, “Yesterday started out great; what the hell happened?” I spend several hours learning what Mack did on a daily basis. Now I know why I never saw him. My holoCom beeps.
It’s time to go meet the rest of the department.
11 THE GANG
I pick up my notepad and make my way to the conference room. It was clearly meant for storage but was converted to a meeting room a few decades ago. The Chief Engineer at the time thought it a good idea to have a place where he could bring people together without concern of pocketed tools tearing upholstery. The kindest thing that can be said of the furniture is it is clean and functional. I have to admit, it was a great idea. I’m the last to arrive; there are five people already here, each sipping from disposable cups. I remember seeing their faces, but cannot recall ever having been introduced. There’s a drip coffee maker and a stack of cups, so I pour myself a cup and close the door. That gets attention.
“If you will all please find a seat.” I sit in what is clearly meant to be the head of the table. That also gets a few raised eyebrows. “If you haven’t heard, Dr. Sinnair has fallen very ill. My name is Sonia MacTaggert, and I have been named Chief Engineer during his…absence. At this time, he is in a coma from which he is not expected to wake. When we finish here, anyone who desires to drop into Med Bay to visit is welcome—encouraged—to do just that. As I don’t know any of you, let’s go around the table and you tell me who you are and give me the one-over-the-world status of your area. We’ll start on my left.”
The woman seated there has dirt smeared on both cheeks, and her blonde hair is p
ulled into a ponytail that pours from the back of her cap. She’s probably a pretty girl, but in those coveralls it’s hard to say. She sits her coffee cup down. “Donna Childs, ma’am. Life Support systems. Before I give my report may we go to the Lords for a moment for Mack’s sake?”
My heart melts. I wanted to do that but was afraid how it would be received. “Please.” The men remove their caps, and the rest of us fold our hands and bow our heads.
She lowers her gaze and begins. “Fathers and Mothers, we place the health of our dear friend Mack in Your hands. We have all benefited from his acquaintance. We selfishly ask that he be allowed to continue among us. But if that is not within your plans, we ask for a quick transition that he not suffer. Also, Divine Parents, we pray for wisdom, understanding, and patience, not only for us, but for your daughter, Sonia, as well. This change is no easier for her than it is for us. In your beloved names we pray, amen.” She and I may disagree theologically, but that was as inoffensive a prayer as anyone could ask. She raises her head. “All is going about as well as can be expected. We are currently cleaning air scrubber unit three. There was a minor issue with the sewage movement pump, but it was quickly repaired and the cleanup is underway.” She looks to the man on her left.
“The people living on F aft may disagree with your use of the word ‘minor.’” He winks at her; she blushes. I’ll have to look that one up. “Rocky O’Herlihy, ma’am,” he says to me. “Controls and Instrumentation.” Rocky is a big burly fellow with a very heavy five o’clock shadow and thick mustache. “Potempkin tells me that you and he are making good progress on the enhanced Strike Armor. We did find an available F37 Battle Comp for you, which he should be installing tomorrow afternoon. Aside from that, we have no issues at the moment aside from routine maintenance and expected replacements.” He looks to his left.
“Alexander Shumate, Boss. Robotics.” Alexander looks more like a model than an engineer. With his complexion, teeth, and wavy blonde hair he could easily grace the cover of a surfing magazine. “We are continuing in our ‘fusion weapons on WARBOTs’ program. It is on schedule and under budget thus far. We are also making headway on the nanobot torpedo project that Aria assigned us. If you are unaware, the idea is for a warhead with attached plasma cutters to make a ballistic entry into a target and flood it with nanobots programmed to disassemble the target. Right now I can’t give you a definitive timeline or budget on it, but we think it’s certainly doable.” He looks left.
“Gertrude Steiner. Ship’s Systems other than Propulsion.” She looks like she can’t be over twelve. “There have been some problems with the small craft bay door actuators. If I may, I’d like to borrow Gorb to repair them. I know by TO&E he belongs to the engine rooms, but he’s a master welder, and if you can spare him, I would greatly appreciate it.” I make note of her request. “Aside from that, we’re golden.” She looks left.
“John Oliver Trades, ma’am. I do go by Jack but please, spare me the jokes, I’ve heard them. AOEE.” I can imagine heading up the All Other Engineering Efforts with a name like “Jack O. Trades” would get one a lot of ribbing. “To save the group time, I’ll note that my team is busier than a one-handed upholsterer, and that our projects are tracked in real time on the departmental casCom page.”
Something is familiar about him. “Have we met, John?”
“Jack, please ma’am. And yes, you helped me get a stubborn welding rig started several months back.” Wow. Has it been several months already?
“I thought that was you.” Jack is to my right. I finish the discussion: “The engines had a scheduled overhaul on Terra and we’ve yet to find any undocumented faults or deficiencies.” Donna refills her coffee cup and gestures to mine. I nod and hand it to her. “Thank you. Now, let’s get to the matters at hand. I like Mack’s leadership attitude and I intend to adopt it. I do not need spineless yes men or women. If there’s a problem, I want to be made aware of it. If I give bad advice, I want to be made aware of it—tactfully, of course. Like Mack, you will find me easy to work with and hard to work for. Does anyone have any questions of me?”
Gertrude raises her hand. “I have one, ma’am.”
“Hold that thought,” I interrupt, “I do not need to be called ‘ma’am.’ I answer to ‘Sonia.’ Or if that’s too informal for you, ‘Boss’ is okay. Yes, Gertrude?”
“You were the engine tender, is that job being backfilled?”
Damn! That should have been in my status brief! “It is. Virginia Berry is being brought out of TMOD and will be ready for duty in a few days.” I notice they all exchange nervous looks.
Shumate is the only one who will meet may gaze. “Speak,” I say.
“Well, Boss, none of us were there so, we don’t know exactly what happened. But Mack had to make numerous concessions to get Ginny into TMOD rather than terminated.”
“Anyone else would have gone through the air lock,” Rocky mutters.
“The actual records were sealed; you should be able to access them, but personally I’d say think long and hard about giving her any autonomous responsibility.”
Wow. “Duly noted. Now I have a question: You have all been aboard longer than I, so why do I have the Lead and not one of you?” They may not be the right ones to answer, but I don’t know who else would know aside from the Captain. I wish I’d asked him this morning.
Donna speaks up: “Because you came from the engine room. Without engines, a starship is a very expensive space station. You will always—consciously or otherwise—leverage personnel, resources, and assets to keep the engines functioning, and do so at the expense of other systems. We can be knee-deep in our own waste and still accomplish our mission. But if we can’t move, we’re useless.”
It makes sense, I can’t say I agree whole-heartedly with it, but it makes sense. “Okay, if there’s nothing else, I think we’re done here. Thank you for your time.” I head back to the LEO and they all go about their business.
12 IT’S OFFICIAL
Six hours later, I’m reading a report about inconsistent hydraulic pressure on Deck K. As I log and forward it, I ask my holoCom, “Is there anything else that can go wrong?” In way of response, it chirps with an incoming call. I answer, “MacTaggert,” and smile when I see it’s Avi, until I realize he isn’t smiling.
“There’s no easy way to say this, Sonia. Mack just died.”
“I see.” Damn. “Are you available for consolation and comfort in the lounge?” I ask after a pause. I force a smile and try to laugh, but I can feel my throat tightening and the tears starting to puddle up.
“Mom’s on her way to the LEO,” So it’s “Mom” not “Doc Traynor.” The cat must be all the way out of the bag.
I see her coming down the corridor. “She’s here,” I tell him. In fact she is standing outside my door right now. I wave her in. She waves back but stays outside of the office.
“As it happens,” Avi continues, “I am at your disposal. Shall I ask the bartender to make you one of my famous brandy swirls? They are delicious, and two or three make you sleep like a baby.”
“Sounds good, but I’ve always wondered why it’s good to sleep like a baby. Don’t babies wake up screaming—hungry or with bowel activity—every three or four hours? I’ll see you later.” Click.
Doc Traynor waits for me to finish the call before coming into the office proper and setting her bag down on my desk. She pulls out a syringe filled with an opaque pink fluid and says, “Aria’s orders were for me to give you something. She said, and I quote, ‘Engineering will be fine for the night and I—Aria—will make spot checks for her’ (meaning you) end quote. We will be in Transit en route to Goliath for a few more days.” She pulls out her perCom and presses the record button. “At 1735 hours, ship’s calendar 7/32/12254, Lead Engineer Sonia MacTaggert is medically relieved for a period of no less than twelve and no more than thirty six hours.” She puts her perCom in her bag and sticks the syringe in my arm, painlessly injecting me with a sizable dose of…whatever
it is, followed by a single syllable verbal command: “Scat!”
“What did you give me?”
“Ten CCs of Forgetitol. You are relieved. Now get out of here. If I overheard correctly, a young doctor, reminiscent of an ancient marble statue, is on his way to the lounge; how long will he be waiting for you?”
I find Avi in the lounge, sitting on the sofa. The two glasses on the table are three quarters full of a smoky swirling liquid. I do want the brandy swirl. I pick one up and sip from the straw. The taste is similar to some kind of Mocha Milkshake blended with a couple of jiggers of white lightning. The straw doesn’t deliver fast enough, so I lay it on the table and gulp the beverage, then signal the bartender for another. The fluids never rest, but continue to swirl in the glass. After two, I’m feeling pretty tipsy. But that’s no reason to stop. The doc put me on the bench for a day and a half. I have the time—and the desire—to get hammered. I crawl under Avi’s arm. “I like it here; I feel safe.” We talk about the day, my promotion, Mack’s death, my projects, and many other things, but then I want to talk about what he has going on as well. Our together time won’t be all about me. I want to learn about him as well. Rachel is on her A game tonight. Every time I set an empty glass down, a full one is in its place in a matter of moments.
As the brandy starts to kick in, I ask Avi, “May I stay with you tonight? I’m still processing a lot of stuff.”
“Of course.” He’s also much more relaxed with a little liquid courage in his veins.
We hold hands on the way to his stateroom. Aside from some of the knick-knacks here and there, his place is a copy of mine. We follow our first pattern. I freshen up and get into bed, in tee shirt and my typical bikini panties. We exchange good night kisses. He drapes an arm over me, and we drift off to sleep. At 0200, I wake to use the ’fresher. Before going back to bed, I drop the tee and panties to the floor. Apparently, Avi’s not the only one emboldened by ethanol-enhanced bravery. I snuggle up to him and press my lips to his. Tentatively at first, but the intensity rises. His eyes flutter open and try to focus. He puts his hand on my hip and realizes what I’m not wearing. He looks at me quizzically. I make the first move. He doesn’t argue.
