Stepping Up

by Robert Culp

  I did sleep like a baby, I didn’t scream every three or four hours. There was just the one time.

  Four days later, Night Searcher slows and falls out of Transit. The massive planet of Goliath can be seen on any viewer, or through any window, for that matter. Even though it is still almost a billion miles away, it is a naked eye object, two inches across. The moons are also easily distinguishable. Not identifiable, but one can tell they aren’t stars.

  Aria comes over the ship’s allCom: “Staff Meeting in the Conference Room in 30 minutes.” She also sends a communiqué to my perCom: “That means you too, Sonia, as the Lead Engineer. Make sure you have your report ready.”

  “It is. I’m on my way. Thank you.” I grab my notepad and head for the conference room. I have just finished gathering my daily reports and understand why Mack was always harping on this stuff. It’s the type of thing the Captain will want to know. Engineering is in fantastic condition. The drives and power plants are in the best shape they have been in a decade.

  Aria calls the briefing to order: “Alright, everyone sit down and shut up.” There is no clearly assigned seating, but it looks like everyone gravitates to a particular chair, so I move to the one that’s left. Aria is at the foot of the table. Freddie sits across from me. He winks as he scoots his chair to the table. Looking around, I see several people I don’t know and only a few that I do: a good looking blonde woman in a flight suit, a middle aged man dressed the same, Doc Traynor, a stocky brunette with tattoos on her neck, and a man in a black flight suit with a perCom in each bicep pocket.

  The Captain comes in and sits down at the head of the table. Everyone stands as he enters, and so I do, too.

  “Sit,” he commands. “Report significant events since our last meeting.”

  Freddie starts: “Sir, Deputy Chief Sergeant Call, filling in for Chief Sergeant Petersen. Two security personnel were spaced week before last. Charges include but are not limited to: gross insubordination, assault of an aggravated nature towards a department head, and mutiny. The complete report has been filed with the personnel office.” He continues with training activities and logistical concerns.

  Doc Traynor: “One death due to disease—Dr. Mack Sinnair. I have no reason to suspect infection of other crewmembers.” Several heads turn and look her way, then at the Captain. He nods and she continues: “Chief Sergeant Petersen suffered two fractured femurs in a training accident. Her surgery on Saxon went well, and her rehabilitation is going smoothly. I expect her to be fully mission-capable when we return to Saxon to pick her up.”

  The blonde woman: “The Bridge continues to run smoothly and efficiently.” Pilot or watch commander maybe?

  Her counterpart says: “Goliath is about four hours out. We have received the additional leg of the trip and are making calculations now.” He must be the navigator.

  Stocky brunette: “The cargo is staged and ready to unload. After this drop, we’ll have forty-six tons left, bound for Atlas.”

  The Captain interrupts: “Lose that forty-six tons here, Sheila. Sell it for whatever you can get. We need all the space we can get for the WARBOTs we’re going to pick up here and at Atlas. About two-hundred tons of them. There’s been a change to our mission.”

  “Yes sir.” She makes some notes.

  The guy in the black flight suit says, “Security is optimal, aside from the two vacuum sniffers that Sergeant Call mentioned. As long as we don’t hire any more idiots, we should be okay.” Freddie shoots him a “drink-poison-and-die” look, but doesn’t say anything.

  The Captain makes a gesture in my direction. “For those who haven’t made the connection, with the death of Dr. Sinnair, Sonia MacTaggert has been provisionally promoted to Lead Engineer. Deliver your report please, Chief MacTaggert.”

  “Thank you, sir. The engines are in excellent condition and are running within accepted tolerances. With Mack gone, Gorb and I have to spread ourselves a little thinner, but we’re making things happen. The balance of the department is on top of things. Medical tells me I should have my replacement engineer…tomorrow?” I look at Doc. She nods. “Tomorrow. The advanced Strike Armor project hasn’t received a lot of attention lately, but once Ginny, I mean Miss Berry, is up to speed, that will change. As of half an hour ago there was nothing new and critical on the database reflecting problems or shortcomings with the ship.”

  Aria concludes the briefing: “Sir, this most recent leg of this cruise has shown us a lot of changes, but Night Searcher continues to rise to the occasion. Have you any further orders, sir?”

  “Excellent work everyone, as you were—chasing excellence.” He nods to Aria. She signals a server who gives everyone a silver wine goblet and pours each half full of a dark red wine. The Captain stands and the rest of us follow suit.

  Captain Prowse pushes his hood back and raises his goblet. “To our dear friend and colleague, Mactavius Dedrus Sinnair. We hope his journey to the other side was peaceful.” He takes a long drink, sets his goblet down, and says, “Dismissed,” as he walks out. The wine—very dry—leaves a bitter after taste. The others make their way out as well. I stop Aria.

  “Is a funeral scheduled for Mack? I’d like to attend. Also, I need to review his will for anything out of the ordinary. He said he wanted his home to go to his daughter Catherine. Do we have the assets to preserve him or does he get cremated?”

  “The toast was the funeral. Here is the will.” She hands me a small memory disk that can be accessed by any holoCom. “Review this, and let me know what you need. Given the circumstances of his death, we will keep him in the Life Tube until such time as he can be cremated off the ship.”

  I go to my office to verify that what I reported is still true. When I review the disk Aria gave me, I see that there is two-million in his interest bearing credit account. He is to be cremated and his ashes scattered into space. His daughter Catherine is on Goliath in a mental ward. The address is, thankfully, included.

  His money (after any outstanding debts or expenses) is supposed to go for the care of his daughter. I call Aria, “Do we have facilities to cremate a body? Mack wants his ashes in space. Also, I need to make a side trip when we get to Goliath. Do I clear that with you or someone else?”

  “We can jettison him from a torpedo tube as is. But if you want him cremated, as I said previously, you will have to get that done planetside. You will have to get clearance for your side mission from the Captain. We should be in orbit for 48 hours.”

  “Thanks.”

  I send a message to the Captain asking for an appointment to see him regarding Dr. Sinnair’s final wishes for his daughter. The Captain holoComs me back right away, and I answer: “MacTaggert.” I can feel his presence even through the holoCom.

  “Sonia, have Gorb tend the engines while we are orbiting Goliath. He knows to call Aria if there is anything important. I just checked with Medical. They are accelerating your replacement’s therapy. She will be functional before you return from the surface. Take care of Mack’s business. You have 48 hours. Right now I can’t give you any longer. Take Trooper Watson along for security; she will also be your shuttle pilot.”

  “Will do, sir. Thank you.”

  I look for a Trooper named Watson in the ship’s directory. There she is. I dial her. “Trooper Watson, this is Lead Engineer Sonia MacTaggert. You’ve been assigned to accompany me to Goliath. I’m executing Dr. Sinnair’s will and have to go visit his daughter. We have 48 hours. I don’t plan on using any more than six. Do you have any questions?”

  “Not a one. Just let me know where I have to be, what I need to have, and when I have to be there.” She sounds cheery and fiery at the same time.

  “Nothing out of the ordinary. I suspect you’ve been assigned to support the buddy system. This shouldn’t be a difficult mission at all. I’ll have to get back to you with a small craft departure time.”

  “Excellent. I look forward to hearing from you.”

  “MacTaggert out.” Hmm. I may have found a fut
ure female friend. That is always a plus.

  My next call is to Paradise Plantation, the institution treating Catherine Sinnair. “This is Sonia MacTaggert, Lead Engineer of Night Searcher, executing the last will of Dr. Mactavius Sinnair. Is his daughter Catherine still a patient there? I need to speak with her caseworker or therapist. I’d also like to make an appointment with the institution administrator, please.”

  “Good morning, Ms…MacTaggert was it? Access to Miss Sinnair is strictly monitored. Please call 232-32 and secure the appropriate documents. Good morning.”

  “Wait, what? Hello?” I’m talking to dead air. Calling the number, I’m routed to a lawyer’s office, and there is an announcement saying he is off planet for the next three months on business.

  I call the institution administrator back, directly this time. “This is Eleanor Gray.”

  “Ms. Gray, Sonia MacTaggert, I understand access to Miss Sinnair is controlled. I’ve called the attorney your assistant indicated. Unfortunately, he’s off the planet for three months. I have at most two days. I don’t need to see her as much as I need to talk to someone regarding her care. Her father has passed away. I’m the executrix of his estate, and I have full authority to tend to her affairs on his behalf. I have neither the desire nor the intention of interfering with her treatment in any way. In fact, I hope to guarantee her care. Please, I promise I have no intention of wasting your time.”

  “Please do come to my corporate office in suite 3012, tower 13 at 8:30 tomorrow morning. There we can make all final arrangements, and I’m sure we can come to an agreement. Boulder City, Swallows Down, North. Good morning.”

  I hear the click, but say, “Thank you, ma’am,” anyway. The Goliath maps we have on the casCom show that to be an accurate address. It is in the very rich and reserved district of Swallows Down, the richest district of Goliath’s Capital city, Sturne.

  Night Searcher establishes orbit high above Goliath. The local sky is bustling with freighters as well as military craft of all sizes. Given our size, we are assigned a higher altitude, “above the trash” as the lead navigator says when he thinks no one can hear him. There is a launch at my disposal, ordered by the Captain. A brunette, tall for a girl, with shoulder-length hair and a very fit body, meets me in the small craft bay. She perks up as I approach. I doubt there’s a scrap of body fat on her; she manages to be beautiful and intimidating at the same time.

  “Hi! Are you Chief MacTaggert? Sherri Watson. I’m ready to go whenever you are. May I call you Sonia?” She has a backpack slung over one shoulder.

  “Hi, yes, Sonia is fine, unless we’re at one of those hoity-toity functions. But only if I get to call you Sherri.” She nods and I say, “Okay, let’s go.” We board the small launch, each of us stowing our bag to keep it from bouncing around the flight cabin. Mack’s body is in a Life Tube in the cargo compartment. Sherri takes the pilot’s seat, so I sit in the other. I found a number for a Hazardous Materials Incinerator near the starport. They don’t typically cremate bodies, but when I explained the situation, with a memo from Dr. Traynor, they agreed to burn the Life Tube with him in it. They will pick Mack’s body up when we get there. After ten minutes of silence, my curiosity gets the best of me: “May I ask a personal question?”

  “You may ask, but I reserve the right not to answer.”

  “You’re a pretty girl. Does that make life on Night Searcher challenging? I mean, I have a brand new boyfriend. Is that going to cause any problems? Another woman on the ship told me she stays in shape doing bedroom aerobics. I’m wondering…I like to think I’m not a prude. I guess I’m just sheltered. Do you have a certain someone aboard? It seems like half of the crew never sleeps in the same bed twice. Okay, I’m babbling. I’ll stop.”

  “Oh, is that all? It’s not that much of a challenge. And it’s one of the reasons the staterooms have opaque doors. I have two semi-regular partners: one male, one female. My gate swings either way from time to time. Occasionally at the same time, but that’s a different story. There are those more promiscuous than me; there are those more reserved. What do people think? Who cares? It’s nobody else’s business. My partners and I don’t blab. And, unless you make it an issue, it probably won’t become one.”

  “Thanks for the explanation. I like you. Can we maybe hang out? Do the double date thing from time to time?” But I bet neither of your lovers has a parent on the ship.

  “Oh boy, could we ever! You are an answer to my prayers!” Her exuberance and excitement are at once intriguing and frightening. I’m looking at her the way a Rison’s Beast looks at a MagTrain. She explains: “You’re straight. Not many of my female friends are. I can relax around you and not worry about being…compromised.”

  We approach the starport. All small craft are required to run through a ten-second scan. Upon landing, we’re told that it checks for explosives, and detonates whatever it finds. It saves time that way. There’s no need to find the pesky thing. I negotiate with the local garage for berthing. Calculating on the side of caution, I opt for the full forty-eight hours. Sherri expertly maneuvers the small craft into the berth. In a few minutes, we are outside and the doors to the launch are closed. There’s a ground transport waiting for us. We transfer Mack’s body from the launch to the truck. The driver tells me he’ll have the ashes to us tomorrow. I make sure he understands why Mack’s body is in a Life Tube. “I’ve been briefed, ma’am. You do understand the tube will be destroyed in the process? Protocol.” Makes sense.

  I dial the contact number I downloaded earlier. I get the receptionist, and she tells me that my appointment has been moved from 8:30 to noon. I’m not happy, but it can’t be helped. I tell Sherri, “I guess we can do a bit of shopping after all.”

  We hire a gravity cab to Boulder City. It’s a hot day and the air is thick with pollution. The air conditioner in the cab doesn’t appear to be working, and with the windows barely open, I can feel the sweat, and I’m only too happy when we arrive at our destination after a thirty-minute ride. Sherri peels some notes off the wad in her pocket and hands them to the driver. “You can get the next one,” she assures me.

  It seems the cabbie may have other ideas; he tips his cap to us. “Thank you, ladies. Your next trip is on me.”

  We smile, thank him, and watch him drive off. “You know he couldn’t keep his eyes off you, right?” Sherri says, as we walk towards the door to the shopping mall complex.

  “Me?” I counter. “Which of us has a tank top under her flight suit, and which is freeboobing with her zipper poised an inch above her solar plexus?”

  Sherri grins. “Okay, you got me there. But, since I got ’em, I’m gonna work ’em. That’s probably why that goober didn’t have the AC running. He was hoping it might go lower.”

  We don’t really look for anything other than a way to pass three hours. Later, while we’re sitting at a snack bar enjoying a cold icy beverage, I happen to note Sherri’s hand on her tumbler. Then I look at my own. “I have an idea. Let’s reawaken our feminine sides. Care for a manicure? My treat.”

  “Make it a mani-pedi, and I’ll be on it like a doctor on an engineer.” She winks and grins. What has she learned since yesterday?

  “If you’re going to be snarky, forget it.”

  “You forget how small a starship really is. Let’s play with their heads. You buy the manicures, and I’ll buy the pedicures.”

  “Deal.”

  At 11:30, I call Ms. Gray’s office back. “I’m terribly sorry,” the receptionist says, “but Ms. Gray has been called into an emergency meeting and will be unavailable until four o’clock. I was just anticipating calling you.” Click.

  I relay my conversation to Sherri. “Well that’s a crock o’ crap.” She looks around. “Movie?” We agree on a romantic comedy. It’s good to laugh, cry, all that stuff. As we walk out to the cabstand, I pull out my perCom. Sherri puts her hand on it. “Don’t call them. We’ve gotten the runaround twice. Let’s just show up. It will be harder for them to give us
a brush off in person.” I can’t argue with her logic, but I’m not certain of her conclusion. I’m just anxious to get out of this insufferable heat. How do the locals stand it? All of the men are wearing ties and jackets, the women, full length dresses with long sleeves. It must be something to which one becomes accustomed.

  Our cab ride takes us to our destination. True to her word, Sherri lets me pay for this one. It is easy to find tower 13. It is the middle tower in a circle of twelve and is twice their size. Suite 3012 is on the 30th floor. “Marginally phallic,” Sherri muses. “Sonia, I’m not trying to be overly critical, but we aren’t exactly ‘fresh,’ if you know what I mean.”

  I fix my “who cares” face on her. “I don’t know about you, but I’m stickier than yesterday’s glazed doughnut, and I couldn’t care less. I’m here on business, not to win a popularity contest or a beauty pageant. And, after the runaround we’ve gotten, these people deserve to be offended, my trusty, husky, musky companion.” I push the button for the lift. When it comes, we board and ride to the 30th floor.

  “‘Trusty and husky’ okay, but … ”

  I look at her balefully. Sherri lifts her arm and sniffs an armpit. “Okay, I’ll give you the ‘musky’ also.”

  Suite 3012 isn’t hard to find. I tell the receptionist, “Sonia MacTaggert to see Miss Gray, please.”

  “Certainly, madam, may I ask the nature of your visit and the identity of your…” she looks at Sherri with obvious distaste, “…associate?” The office is tastefully decorated in muted tones. The carpet is very pale beige, almost white. The furniture appears to be real wood. The receptionist looks at us as if we’re the people she called to clear the clogged toilet. Sherri absentmindedly wipes the sweat from her brow and flings it to one side. The receptionist glares at her.