by Rolf Nelson
Checker: Duration?
Art: Three days there. I need to return as soon as possible to continue my work.
Checker: Business? Any family?
Art: Oh, yes, my wife is here. I mean to say “yes, the trip is only business.” No family there.
Checker presses a few buttons and waves him past to head for the boarding area. She looks up at Helton and her eyes narrow. She points to the ID scanner on the counter in front of her. He places his face in front of the camera where it is briefly flashed with a crosshatch of faint laser lines. He sets his hand on the palm pad.
Helton: Helton Strom. Teacher.
Checker eyes her screen, then Helton, then screen, frowns, then Helton, and then over his shoulder and back again.
Checker: (Eyes narrow, suspiciously) Reason for travel?
Helton: Vacation.
Checker’s eyes narrow more. She taps on her screen a time or two and eyes him, then taps several more times, while looking back and forth between him and the screen.
Checker: Job?
Helton: Teacher at the high school.
Checker taps on the screen a few more times. Helton starts to look concerned.
Helton: Is there a problem?
Checker: (Rudely) I’LL ask the questions, if you please.
Helton is taken a bit aback. He steps back slightly and straightens up a bit, bumping into someone behind him. He starts to turn to say “sorry” but realizes it’s a pair of security guards standing right there, rifles at port arms. Helton realizes something is badly amiss and bites off his planned retort. He goes on in a more tightly controlled voice.
Helton: I would be happy to answer any questions you have.
Checker: Who bought your ticket?
Helton: I did just-
Checker: It was bought with CASH, can you prove it was you?!
Helton: I don’t know, I-
Checker: Stop lying!
Helton: I don’t think-
Checker: Lying to a government agent is a crime, Mr. Strom, so DON’T think, just ANSWER!
Helton: But I did tell-
Checker holds up her hand to silence him as she looks at the screen.
Checker: Well, well, well. And just why is it that you were sent a list of spices in commercial quantities, when you are not a registered and licensed wholesaler? A violation of the Terrorism-Supporting Black Market Reduction Act, perhaps?
Helton: How did-
Checker: You lied to me. Summary fine against assets per false statement.
Helton: (Shocked) WHAT?!
Checker: You WERE a teacher, but are now listed as unemployed. You lied. You said you were going on vacation, but you have a job offer from your sister. You lied. Someone bought your ticket with cash to avoid tracking, you lied. You are obviously attempting to dodge taxes and business licensing. You bought a one way ticket as an emigrant would-
Helton: Because I didn’t know when I was coming back! I just now decided to go to-
Checker: But you still tried to dodge the emigration tax!
Helton: But how could I be emigrating if I’m planning to smuggle spices back here!?
Checker: Well, now, that WAS pretty stupid of you, wasn’t it? Didn’t think things through. Tell it to the judge! WE don’t make mistakes that stupid.
Helton looks shocked as he realizes the turn this is taking.
There is a faint, deep CRUMP in the distant background, barely noticed at that moment, as the smug checker and Helton stare at each other for a moment.
Checker: (To guards) Escort Mr. Strom to Interview Room C for further questions.
The guards step up even closer behind him and one of them indicates with his arm which way he should start walking. Checker smirks. Background bystanders studiously look at the ground, away, or at things in their hands, not making eye contact as he turns and starts to walk away.
CUT TO
INT - DAY - Small interrogation room
Helton sits, coat over the back of his chair, at a small table across from a weasel-like uniformed guard.
CUT TO
Same room. Helton sits across from a different uniform, who wears more gold braid and a bigger hat.
CUT TO
Helton sits across from a sour faced woman with a pinched smile in judges robes, and she bangs her gavel on the small table between them, while off to the side the higher ranking uniform looks on, smirking.
DISSOLVE TO
INT - NIGHT - Sparse and spare starship lounge
Lounge is dimly lit in reddish light with a few round ports and several screens on the walls.
Helton is sitting, half facing Art, with a dazed expression on his face and a drink in his hand, looking absently out the viewing port. His coat is tossed over the back of a chair, his bag supporting his feet as he slouches down.
Helton: By the time it was over, virtually all my assets were forfeited on the spot, I’d been stripped of citizenship, and searched by the Blue Gloves way more personally than I’d like… How…? (Shakes his head in disbelief) How did we get here…?
Art: (Quietly) It could be worse.
Helton stares at Art, incredulous.
Art: You are here, yes?
Helton: Well, yeah, but-
Art: Not in jail. Not in uniform.
Helton: They wouldn’t-
Art: Still breathing.
Helton stares at Art, comprehension dawning on his face at how bad it could have been. He takes a drink.
Helton: But I don’t understand… Why?...
Art: They get a percentage of any fines or forfeitures they assess, as an “incentive” to be attentive to the letter of the law. You likely got put on a list some time ago, and this was just the easiest opportunity to make you go away. If they hadn’t gotten busy with that bomb on Level 8, you might still be there.
Helton: (Confused) Wha…? Bomb?
Art: The disturbance that called them away?
Helton: But that was some sort of transformer explosion in an electrical vault…
Art looks as him with a slight shake of his head and a knowing, apologetic smile on his face.
Art: Always buy a round trip ticket. Always have the appearance that you have good reason to come back, and no plans to do otherwise.
Helton: You…?
Art: You are just now realizing what’s been going on these last months and years?
Helton nods slightly, slowly.
Helton: (Feebly, not even accepting his own excuse) …Been busy.
Art: People have had to flee on a moment, packing light, for thousands of years. The warning signs of collapse are always the same. The debt. The scapegoats. The lies. The “temporary emergency measures.” I was cutting it closer than I should have. (Shrugs) My family is all safely away, and everything else shipped ahead for us by others.
Helton stares at him in near disbelief.
Art: It looks like you won’t be returning, either. (He smiles a small, sympathetic smile)
Helton: (Quietly, in shock, to himself) Homeless.
Helton stares off blankly, dazed.
Art: You are lucky, though…
Helton: (Discouraged/sarcastic) If this is lucky, I’d hate to see unlucky.
Art: (Looking intensely at Helton) They picked you clean, but they let you leave. And, think… What do you have? Where are you going?
Helton: (Looks blankly for a moment, then shrugs and waves to his coat and bag) My sister’s.
Art: And…?
Helton shrugs, still not sure what he’s being asked. Art taps his temple, then his chest. Then waves to the room around them. The glass in Helton’s hand.
Helton: (Slowly, forcing himself to think positively. He taps his temple) I have… useful skills… and knowledge. (He touches his chest) I’m heading for family… who will welcome me… work… I’m not sucking vacuum or (holds up his glass) dying of thirst in a desert… Better off than Odysseus meeting Nausicaa.
Art: (Big smile as he sees Helton now has a better assessmen
t of his situation) A man of education.
Helton: Not enough. Didn’t see this coming.
Art: It will serve you well. Never forget your assets, just because you acquired some new liabilities. Have faith in yourself, and you’ll be OK… God works in mysterious ways.
Helton looks at Art silently for a long moment, trying to understand it all. He drains his glass, not looking very convinced.
FADE TO BLACK
New Acquaintances
FADE IN
INT - DAY - Space liner hallway
Helton walks down the passageway. He’s dressed in his normal shipboard attire: collared shirt, earth tone vest with several pockets, dark pants, five finger-style shoes. There are several others headed in the same direction, each with a different style of clothing (mostly of simple cut but stylish, in much brighter colors). The hallway has a sense of faded high-tech elegance. As they walk, the ship’s announcement system drones in the background.
Announcer: (Calm and pleasant female voice) Passengers on B Schedule proceed to your assigned dining rooms on Level E, Corridor F, for the traditional first night formal meet and greet. Your seating assignments will be at your tables if not noted on your ticket. Please arrive promptly at 1830…
Helton and the rest of the passengers turn and stream through a doorway into a large, low room with some two dozen oval tables that can seat ten people each. It has the same sense of faded elegance: nice chandelier but with a few lights burned out, slightly worn seat upholstery, indirect lighting that is inconsistently bright, colors that don’t quite all coordinate perfectly, as if they could not be bothered to find identical replacements. Each table has a busy artistic centerpiece and a small sandwich-board style screen with a list of names on it. Many of the tables are full or nearly so. Helton wanders by and glances at one with several openings, then goes on to the next table with spaces, where he sees his name on it. There are already eight people there: Doctor Local & wife, Senator Snol & wife, Penger Trask & wife Lucretia Trask, the Liner Engineer (an older man in disheveled ship uniform), and Bipasha( beautiful East Indian woman, mid 20s, well dressed). He takes a seat between Bipasha and Lucretia. Everyone except the Liner Engineer greets him.
Everyone at the table: Greetings/Hello/How are you?/Welcome.
He nods his head around the table in general acknowledgement.
Helton: Howdy.
He picks up the slim e-reader (about the size of a sheet of paper, no bevel) and scans it. He touches a few items that light up to order.
INSET - He touches Lamb & Rice Pilaf, vegetables* (note at the bottom says “*synth”) and Iced Tea. Most of the items have the asterisk, and the price totals at the bottom as he chooses.
Meanwhile his tablemates chat quietly among themselves; there is a droning of others doing the same, the hum of the air system and engines, and the clatter of silverware. He sets the menu down and looks up, listening to what they are saying. The wives are generally playing up what their husbands do, and the Doc and Senator are unsuccessfully trying to act modest while playing up their skills and influence. Trask is more seriously modest. He is a wealthy mining and manufacturing magnate, the Doc a neurosurgeon, the Senator on several committees.
Helton glances at Bipasha and she is looking at him. Dressed in a lovely, brightly patterned dress, nice jewelry, nice hair, very attractive, she nods in greeting.
Helton: Helton. Hope I’m not taking anyone’s seat here?
Bipasha: Bipasha. No, it’s free… I’m headed for Niven. You?
Helton: Yes. Visiting family.
He looks inquiringly at her.
Bipasha: I just finished school, and my uncle has an import/export business there.
Helton: You don’t sound too thrilled about that.
Bipasha: I had kind of hoped that I could travel more and find a job on my own before my family talked me into anything, but… He’s an honest man with a good business, so I’ll work for a few years while I look for something with more excitement and possibilities. You? Any business, or just the family?
Helton: Wellllll… (Looks a little uncomfortable)
Bipasha: Running from the draft?
Helton: No! I served my time, but… well, it just got a bit complicated.
Bipasha looks skeptical. Helton drinks a sip of water.
Bipasha: Being a soldier is a perfectly respectable profession, if you are a good one.
Helton: Agreed, I just didn’t like the guys giving the orders. I’m a teacher now. Well, was… My sister is on Niven. Her husband needs some help. I was headed that way and things went off the rails…
Bipasha: Yes, lots of plans getting changed these days.
Helton: Isn’t that the truth.
A waiter shows up with a tray to serve them dinner.
INSET - The plate put before Helton only has the barest resemblance to what he ordered.
Bipasha: (Eyeing the plate before her uncertainly) This is vindaloo?
Helton: Hmmm. I’m sure it’s edible, even if it isn’t quite what you had in mind.
They both tentatively take a bite of their respective dishes, and look at one another, then simultaneously make a face and shrug as if to say “eh, OK, but nothing to write home about” and keep chewing.
FADE TO BLACK
FADE IN
INT - DAY - Starliner dining room
Most of the food has been eaten, people chatting at their tables, except Liner Engineer, who sits tiredly in his seat being ignored, and ignoring most of his food.
A man, Lag, approaches the table. He’s wearing a conservative, somewhat Edwardian dark suit with brass buttons, a high collar shirt, jacket, and vest, looking like a well-to-do businessman: short hair, no whiskers, mid 40s, broad shoulders and powerfully built.
Lag: (Indicating a chair between the Doc’s Wife and Bipasha, across from Liner Engineer) Is this taken?
Chorus from the table: Oh, not at all/Please be my guest/Have a seat/Welcome.
Lag: Ah, thank you. Sorry I’m late. Always more details. (Half to himself as he picks up the menu) Hmmm, what are the choices?
Everyone else goes back to their conversations while Lag looks over the menu reader, makes a couple of rapid selections and sets it down. He then turns to Bipasha and is about to speak when the ship’s announcement system chimes, and the familiar calm female voice comes on.
Announcer: (OC) May I have your attention, please… Navigation has informed the Captain that due to a change in the regional subspace conditions and news our schedule will be somewhat altered.
A collective groan rises from the around the dining room. The passengers listen attentively and exchange looks.
Announcer: (OC) We still expect to arrive in Niven on the scheduled date. We will be detouring through a swirl headed our way, stopping briefly at a transfer station point outside of Eldari to exchange passengers, then continuing to Balltic and Niven. Ship time will be approximately five days, universal time about seventy-two hours plus a short time at Eldari for transfers. We will be arriving at the Eldari transfer point in about ninety hours. That is all.
The dining room erupts in murmurs of excitement, confusion, and relief, depending on the person.
Senator: (To the table) I don’t understand; we’ll be on the ship for five days, but we will arrive at Niven in only three? And we won’t get to the transfer for ninety hours? That doesn’t make any sense.
Lucretia Trask: Yes, that’s impossible… how can we get there before leave?
Helton: No, we won’t.
Liner Engineer looks acutely at Helton. The others at the table look at Helton curiously.
Helton: The details of FTL are complicated of course, but the basic idea isn’t. Universal time, how time passes in the conventional universe where we usually live, passes as a pretty constant rate everywhere. According to the clocks on Niven and where we just left, we’ll arrive in-system in three days. But time moves differently in subspace, sometimes faster, sometimes slower, but always forward, depending on a lot of
things: what kind of drives you have, what sort of gravity wells you pass, which way subspace is blowing, and-
Doc Wife: Subspace blows?
Helton rearranges a few things on the table, clearing out things from the centerpiece, putting a carafe at one end and a bauble from the centerpiece near the other. While he does this, he explains:
Helton: Yes. There are twenty-two dimensions, as you may have heard. Three in space that we can normally perceive, plus time. The physics are similar, but different, in the other dimensions, and by transitioning into them we can do things like go faster than light can here in our universe. But, just like space bends from gravity and solar winds blow here, things are neither smooth nor static in the other dimension. It’s kind of like wind. A little bit of wind and you can walk or fly normally and mostly ignore it. If there is a strong tailwind blowing you get there faster; if you are bucking a strong headwind it takes longer, but the distance is the same. If a hurricane is passing through, then you can’t go anywhere-
Bipasha: Ah, the “Deep Black”…
Helton: -yes, that is where the subspace is simply much too turbulent to transition into and fly.
The others look at him with a mix of interest and incomprehension on their faces.
Helton: Pretend this (indicates the centerpiece on the table) is an island. That (pointing to the bauble) is your ship, and that (points to carafe) is your destination. In a light tailwind blowing from you (points to the Flight Engineer on the end), the ship could sail down either side of the island at the same speed, but going back would be slower. But if a strong wind was blowing from you (points to another) at an angle across the island, then sailing on that side would be fast, but the other side would be slow and difficult because of all the wind eddies and swirls there. If a hurricane comes through, then no one sails anywhere, they just hide in the harbors and hope for the best (he puts the bauble in among the details of the centerpiece), which is what happened when Eta Carinae blew. The Dark came in because subspace was not navigable. The local effects of the stars and planets swamped it close in, so A-grav and accelacomps worked in-system, but not FTL. It sounds like right now we’ll be able to catch a wind that blows us, very quickly, past you (he tosses the bauble to Bipasha) then to you (indicates she should toss it to the Penger Trask, which she does) then on to Niven (it gets tossed to the flight Engineer). Because we are going further in subspace against a wind as it were, it’ll take longer ship time, but Niven hasn’t moved, so our real time hasn’t changed much.
