by PP Corcoran
A short laugh escaped Vusumuzi. “I’m sure you wouldn’t, sir. Zero seven hundred hours it is. Goodnight, sir.”
“And goodnight to you too, Vusumuzi.” With the link cut, Christos returned to the enthralling memo on waste disposal.
#
At precisely 0700 hours a single elongated tone alerted Christos to the arrival of a visitor in his quarters. The visitor’s identity was verified by the marine stationed at the entrance twenty-four hours a day, whether Christos was present or not. A naval tradition that Christos hadn’t fully appreciated until he rose to flag rank himself and realized how many unwanted visitors the intimidating marine sentry dissuaded. But this visitor was expected and Christos still wasn’t sure how to handle him.
“No sense putting him off, he’s here now,” Christos muttered as he activated the link to the sentry. “If that’s Ambassador Schamu, please show him in. Thank you.”
The bulkhead door slid open with a soft hiss. Christos marveled at how neat and fastidious Nicholas Schamu managed to look at this time of day. The creases of his suit trousers would’ve done a marine on parade proud and his black patent-leather shoes glinted like highly polished glass. Christos wondered, not for the first time, if Nicholas had smuggled his personal manservant on board. Suppressing an urge to shake his head, he allowed a broad smile to crease his face as he stood to greet his guest.
“I’m so glad you could join me, Nicholas. Sorry for the early hour. But with the work load generated by our upcoming mission and the additional responsibilities Admiral Catney has given me, it seems I spend most of my day behind my desk. I thought it important to fit in time to get your personal assessment of your staff’s readiness.” Christos smiled as he continued, “You know how some staffers are prone to exaggerate readiness or gloss over minor problems rather than irritate their superiors. I prefer to get a true evaluation from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”
Before Nicholas could reply, there was a gentle knock on the frame of the bulkhead separating the seating area from the dining area. Christos turned and saw his steward, Petty Officer Bryan Walcott, standing resplendent in his white jacket, mess blue trousers and shoes shining so brightly that Christos was sure they could give Nicholas’ a run for their money.
PO Walcott’s role was another naval tradition that Christos had always thought anachronistic, but since his promotion he honestly didn’t know how he could’ve managed with simple personal chores – – like moving his belongings from his old office on Charon Base to the newly refitted Cutlass. He’d left his old quarters in the morning, by the end of the day when he retired to his new ones, there was a fresh uniform laid out, an evening meal awaiting him, and a copy of his agenda for the following day. The petty officer had become an integral part of Christos’ well-oiled command machine and it was Walcott who’d made the arrangements with the officers’ mess for this morning’s working breakfast.
“Breakfast is ready, sir.”
“Thank you, Bryan. Shall we, Nicholas?”
Christos ushered Nicholas into the small dining area, even on a cruiser the size of Cutlass, space was at a premium. Christos was a firm believer that his officers should not have any special privileges, he observed the same rules and made no exceptions for himself, even for food.
Nevertheless, Walcott had worked magic. The crisp white tablecloth was spotless. The plates, bearing the ship’s crest, and polished cutlery were laid with millimeter precision. Christos took his seat and Walcott hovered at his shoulder with a pot of steaming coffee, which he proceeded to pour into a battered, over-sized china mug. As Walcott approached Nicholas, the ambassador held up his hand.
“Could I trouble you for some ice water? I find that hot beverages at the start of the day dull my thinking until at least lunch.” Walcott nodded and left the room. Christos drew Nicholas into an innocuous conversation about the diplomatic staff and managed to make it last throughout the remainder of the meal. A fact he was proud of since he actually had no interest whatsoever in the aforementioned staff, so long as when they folded out for Algol 3 they had their act together.
As the meal came to a close and Walcott topped up his coffee, Christos decided the time had come to broach the true reason for the meeting.
“Your department seems well prepared for whatever eventualities we may encounter Nicholas, may I tell Captain Mkhize to expect the requests for outbound shuttles to be with him shortly?”
Nicholas gave Christos a blank look as he set his glass on the table. “Excuse my ignorance Christos, but why would my staff require shuttles? We’ve completed all our preparations for departure, unless anything urgently requires a staff member’s presence off-ship then Captain Mkhize has no need to arrange any additional shuttle time.”
Christos’ mug stopped its ascent to his lips as he realized for the first time that it had simply never occurred to Nicholas that his staff may wish to visit their families before leaving for the mission. Christos recovered quickly and took a sip of his coffee to give him a few seconds to work out how he was going to tackle Nicholas’ apparent ignorance without embarrassing the ambassador.
“Hmm. That could present me with a quandary, Nicholas.” By the look on Nicholas’s face, Christos knew he had no idea what he was saying. “As you know, I firmly believe that my officers and I get no extra privileges above any crewman’s expectations. It’s long been a navy tradition that before a long voyage, such as the one to Algol 3 could be, that each and every crew member be allowed a short amount of shore leave to visit their families or to spend as they wish. In a spirit of fairness, I’ve enforced this rule on my officers as well. I myself am traveling to the lunar colonies tomorrow to spend a couple of days with my wife and daughters.” Christos swore he could see a faint glimmer of understanding in Nicholas’s eyes. Just one more gentle push. “I need every part of this flotilla to work together, naval and diplomatic, and I’d hate the tradition of shore leave to generate resentment between personnel. Perhaps I should’ve consulted you earlier and we could’ve avoided this situation. My apologies, Nicholas.”
Nicholas waved off the apology. “No need, Christos, this is a minor hiccup which I can easily rectify. I’ll get my staff on it first thing and you can tell Captain Mkhize to expect a request for shuttles presently.” Nicholas pulled out a small PAD and began to type.
Behind Nicholas, Walcott desperately tried to suppress a large grin, which got wider as Christos flung him a withering look.
“I’m in your debt, Nicholas. As I said, I’m traveling to the lunar colonies tomorrow, if it’s of any use to you, it’s my understanding there are spare seats that you or your staff could avail themselves of?”
Nicholas paused momentarily, as if checking an internal diary. “My sister’s vacationing with her husband’s family this time of year, but I suppose I could visit my brother, he lives in the lunar colony.”
Christos stood and walked around the small table, beaming. “Well that’s that, then, you can travel with me tomorrow.” Before he had time to think, Christos added. “Why don’t you join me and my family for dinner some time? I’m sure my wife will be delighted. I know my eldest, Philippa, will be. She’s planning a career in the diplomatic corps when she finishes university.”
Nicholas seemed slightly taken aback by the offer but recovered quickly. “That’s a generous offer Christos, and I look forward to it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few pressing issues to deal with before leaving the office for a few days.”
Christos walked Nicholas to the door, as it closed behind him he turned and was greeted by Walcott clapping his hands slowly in admiration. “Well played, sir, well played indeed.”
Christos took a small bow before seating himself at his desk, wondering how he was going to tell Kayla he was bringing a stuffy, self-important aristocrat to dinner on one of the only two nights he’d set aside just for the family.
#
LUNAR COLONY – SOL SYSTEM
Surreptitiously gazing at Kayla, Christos stil
l had to pinch himself to believe his luck. Neither her beauty nor cleverness had diminished over the two decades (and three children) since Kayla had finally agreed to marry him.
They’d grown up on the island of Crete in the capital city of Heraklion and met in high school. In school, Christos was physically strong, representing the school in wrestling, but he’d been an average student with only one goal. To join the Terran Defense Forces and travel amongst the stars. Kayla, on the other hand, had always been smart, if shy. As she entered her teens she was gangly and awkward in company.
It was Ms. Zika, his mathematics teacher, who suggested he join the study group to bring up his very average grades and it was here that he met Kayla. At first he couldn’t see past the shy, awkward shell of a girl, but as time went on, he began to see her differently. Christos’ grades rose sharply under her patient, reserved teaching style while Kayla’s social ineptness dissipated as Christos, appreciative of her help, took her under his wing and introduced her to his social circles. Kayla’s confidence grew, assisted in some part by the jealousy of her classmates that she got to spend so much time in the company of the best-looking boy in school.
During that year they grew closer. It was only as the summer recess beckoned and Christos was due to go to the White Mountains to spend the summer working on his uncle’s farm that he realized Kayla had shed her awkwardness and stick-thin figure and had turned into a slender, confident young lady. It was the longest summer of Christos’ life. When he eagerly returned to school in the autumn, he was accosted by the sight of Kayla surrounded by every hot-blooded male in the school, apparently they’d noticed her too. Christos could have kicked himself. He’d missed his chance, he should have made the effort to see her over the summer, no matter how busy the farm was. His heart sank as he turned away, despondent. Then he heard his name. He turned and the image of what he saw burned into his memories.
It was Kayla, running toward him, with the biggest, warmest smile, she ran into his arms and he didn’t let go. At the tender age of sixteen, Christos Papadomas knew he wouldn’t waste another summer, or autumn or winter or spring, there would never be another woman for him. Over the next two years they were inseparable, until the moment they both dreaded. On his eighteenth birthday Christos enrolled in the navy.
Christos had made no secret of his ambition to travel to the stars, but it meant leaving Kayla behind. What if she forgot him, or worse, met someone else? It should have been his happiest day, to finally realize his dream, so why had he felt so miserable when he’d signed his name on the dotted line? He’d returned home to find Kayla sitting on the doorstep. He was dumbstruck. He’d stood in front of her, looked down at the awkward girl who had become a beautiful woman. He instantly regretted his decision to join up with every fiber of his being. There was only one thing to do. He would go back to the recruitment office and withdraw his application. Anything to stay with Kayla.
The front door opened and there stood the five-foot-one powerhouse that was Philippa Papadomas. No one had ever summoned up the courage to argue with eighty-one-year-old Grandma Papadomas. She looked up at the towering frame of her grandson and then at the tearful girl sitting on the step. Grandma Papadomas placed a wrinkled hand on the head of the distraught Kayla and pointed her bony finger toward Christos.
“If you don’t marry this girl, then you’re a bigger idiot than your father! I told him the same thing with your mother. Men! Without a woman to tell them what to do, they would never get anything done!”
Christos looked at his grandma, then at Kayla’s upturned face. The tears glinting in her beautiful eyes. Christos dropped to one knee and rubbed his sweaty palms before taking Kayla’s hand in both of his.
“Kayla Condos. Will you do me the great honor of being my wife?”
Kayla bounced up and flung her arms around the kneeling Christos, nearly knocking him over. Blinking away tears, Kayla said throatily:
“Yes, Christos. Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Grandma Papadomas was forced to clear her throat several times before Christos released his embrace. A smiling Grandma Papadomas extended her hand to Christos and in her open palm lay the wedding ring that she had refused to remove since her own beloved husband passed, nine years earlier.
“No engagement is complete without a ring and I know that your grandpa would want you to have this.”
Christos mouthed a silent “thank you” to her as he slipped the ring onto Kayla’s finger.
Within the month they were married. Christos headed off to naval training and Kayla started her medical training. Two years later, they were blessed with their daughter. Sadly, Grandma Papadomas passed before her birth and at Kayla’s urging their first child was named Philippa.
Kayla easily obtained her medical degree while being a full-time mother to Philippa and Maia, their second daughter. She graduated summa cum laude and received offers from the top four teaching hospitals on the planet. She turned them all down in favor of packing her growing family off to the lunar colonies so as to be closer to the naval bases and Christos.
As for Christos, his natural talents suited naval life. He had a gift that was quickly recognized by his senior officers. Within ten years, Christos reached the rank of Chief Warrant Officer, specializing in engineering and astrogation. Christos resisted repeated calls for him to take a mustang commission, where an enlisted man is offered the opportunity to attend officer training school and gain his commission. Christos firmly believed he needed to get to grips with the nuts and bolts of being a sailor before making the move to the world of an officer. It had taken a particularly persuasive officer, who had enlisted the aid of Kayla, to eventually get Christos to accept a commission. When the Gravity Drive was invented, it put Christos in the enviable position of commanding the ships that traveled the stars.
A sharp pain in his lower ribs brought him crashing back to the present.
“Dad, will you stop staring at Mom like some lovesick teenager? It’s embarrassing.”
Christos swatted at Philippa’s passing head, but she side-stepped him. Walking up to her mother, she reached past her and grabbed an almond from the countertop where Kayla prepared an almond cake. Christos was struck by the likeness his eldest bore to her mother at the same age.
Eighteen in only another two months and with the beauty that worried every father, Christos thanked God she was also blessed with her mother’s brains. It seemed the only thing that Christos had contributed to his daughter’s DNA was the thirst to journey to the stars, although Philippa had every intention of doing it in her own way. She had her eye on joining the Diplomatic Corps after completing college. A career plan that Christos considered might benefit from his invitation to Ambassador Nicholas Schamu.
Kayla didn’t even bat an eyelid when Christos casually mentioned, over a glass of the most expensive white wine he could find at short notice, that he’d invited Schamu to join them for dinner on one of the two nights he had at home before leaving for Algol 3 for probably months. Christos knew she would be pissed, hence the expensive wine. But it hadn’t worked. Although Kayla remained silent, he saw the disappointment in her eyes and knew he was in the doghouse.
The chime of the front doorbell was quickly followed by the sight of a mini-tornado flying across the living room with a cry of “I’ll get it!” from Christos’ youngest, Odysseia. All of nine years old, Odysseia thought it was her duty to greet every visitor to the Papadomas household. Christos secretly suspected she hoped that it would be some pimply singer from her latest favorite sound-alike pop band. Odysseia seemed so certain that one day it would be her latest pop heartthrob, she’d placed a stool by the intercom so that her face came level with the screen. Christos moved quietly into the living room and leaned against the wall where he could get a good view of the intercom’s screen.
“Papadomas residence, how may I help you?” Odysseia said in her best adult voice, fooling no one.
Christos could see the image of Nicholas Schamu, completely nonplussed b
y the formal, if slightly squeaky, voice.
“Ambassador Nicholas Schamu, member of the Diplomatic Corps and representative of the Commonwealth Union of Planets requesting admittance.”
Christos put a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from letting out the laugh that was threatening escape. Odysseia jumped from the stool and headed back to her room to watch the latest vid from whoever was in fashion. In passing she waved a hand at the front door.
“Daddy, it’s for you.”
This time a laugh did escape as Christos stepped to the intercom and pressed the door release key. The front door slid open and there stood Nicholas Schamu, resplendent in yet another immaculate suit. How many of these things does he own? Christos wondered.
“Thank you for coming, Nicholas.”
“My pleasure, Christos.” Nicholas handed him a bottle of wine. “I seem to remember your wife enjoys white wine. I hope she finds this a suitable gift.”
Christos knew nothing about wine and the bottle was only decorated with a simple white label. He didn’t think Nicholas was a cheapskate, but the wine could have come from any store in the mall. Whatever, he was sure Kayla would need it to get through a meal with Nicholas. Philippa stuck her head around the corner, her mouth half-open as if to speak. She took one look at Nicholas and his immaculate suit, grimaced, then stepped back around the corner.
Philippa glanced down at her fashionable trousers and T-shirt and decided she was way too underdressed for the occasion and fled for her bedroom.
“I seem to have scared the young lady off,” Nicholas said in a deadpan tone.
“Nah, she’s probably just realized that she may end up in front of you for a job interview in the near future and has decided she best try and impress you right from the start! Come on, let me introduce you to my wife.”
Christos walked across the small living room and entered the kitchen.
“Kayla, may I introduce Nicholas Schamu? And look, he brought wine.” Christos cheerfully held up the bottle. His smile froze as his wife’s eyes fixated on the label. She made a two-handed grab for it and dragged it in front of her disbelieving eyes. Kayla twisted the bottle so she could check the label again, convinced she must be mistaken. Her eyes slowly widened.
