The Stars Came Back

by Rolf Nelson

  Lucretia Trask: OK, I guess that sort of makes sense…

  Helton: Like I said, the details are complicated. If you are not interested in math and physics it’ll make your head hurt, but just remember time always goes forward, just at different rates depending on your path. Kind of like how time seems to go fast when you are having fun, and seems to drag when you are bored. Sometimes weird things happen, like being able to go a lot further, a lot faster in universal time, but it’ll take much longer ship time while using less fuel, or more time on ship but less in universal time. Just imagine different weather and winds and currents and islands and mountains with the sailing ship, and it’ll be easier to visualize, even if it’s not entirely accurate.

  Lag: One of the better descriptions I’ve heard.

  Helton: Thanks. I’ve had to explain it more than a few times.

  Ship Engineer: Oh?

  Helton: I’m a teacher. Between classes and a passel of nephews and nieces-

  There is a sudden burst of cheers and laughter from a table at the far side of the room, where a group of young men and women (mid teens to early 20s) seem to be having a very good time.

  Doc Wife and a couple of the others glare at them. This is not the group’s first outburst.

  Doc Wife: I wonder where the parents are? Children without manners should not be abandoned in public like that.

  Lag: (Sighing) No rest for the wicked. Excuse me, please.

  Surprised looks on their faces, the rest of the table watches him stand up, glass in hand.

  CUT TO

  View of the table full of young adults on far side of dining room

  Lag approaches the table. Sitting there are seven young Plataeans (four male, three female) dressed in dark, almost uniform style clothes, somewhat similar in style and color to Lag’s. They are celebrating loudly. He smoothly helps himself to the one empty seat at the table. After a moment they all notice him, turning silent and eyeing warily as they do so. Lag’s expression is cheerful, and his demeanor friendly. He speaks quietly and sincerely.

  Lag: I understand that congratulations are in order. To adulthood!

  He raises his glass to them, saluting around the table, and takes a sip. They return the salute with their glasses, some of them just sipping, some tossing back the rest of their drink.

  All others at the table, loudly but unevenly: To Rights!

  Lag: So! Who took the biggest risk?

  A small young lady at the table smiles shyly and raises a timid hand.

  Lag smiles in some surprise and nods to her, again raising his glass, but not drinking.

  Lag: And?

  Plataean1: I tried a 4.5… but I only scored a-” she’s cut off cheerily by Lag.

  Lag: Ah-ah. Don’t dwell on the mistakes; learn for them. Even trying for a 4.5 is a daunting task. Quite commendable to take on a serious challenge. You aimed high and passed. Learn from it and move on. (Looks around the table) High score?

  An obviously tipsy young man of nineteen leans forward to brag.

  Plataean2: I got a sixty-seven! With THREE extra points!

  Lag: (Sounding honestly impressed) Oh, outstanding! Well done! Three extra points are not easy. A score like that is an excellent way to start the resume!

  Lag looks around the table, and sees one young man who looks slightly sullen, and not quite as celebratory as the others. There is also something not right about one sleeve of his shirt. He nods towards him.

  Lag: (Concernedly) And how did you do?

  Plataean3: (Downcast, slowly then faster as he explains what happened) Well… only an 8… I went for a star-drive apprenticeship, and would have earned a 4 on performance, but on my last shift a power conduit I should have checked blew and took this… (holds up the stump of his arm, gone about halfway between shoulder and elbow) They docked it down to a 1… I’m good at math, so it was supposed to be an easy assignment for me. If I hadn’t got the conduit properly shut down and a tourniquet on my arm in time it would have been worse, though.

  Plataean1: (Blurting out, sticking up for #3) He earned an extra two points by shutting it down correctly after he lost the arm and saving another guy injured in the blowup, and it really wasn’t his fault. He was just on duty at the time. (Plataean3 looks at #1 appreciatively)

  Plataean3: (Bitterly) Trying to get a drive tech job scoring an 8 isn’t going to happen.

  Lag: You followed procedure and got things shut down safely, after losing an arm, hmmm? That’s not nothing.

  Plataean4: (Also sticking up for #3) And getting the senior drive tech out of the room. He was knocked out by the blast. And he was really the one responsible.

  Lag: Hmmm… Well, the situation isn’t always as bad as you might think. An 8 is passing, if only just. I know someone that scored an 8 and is doing quite well. Good friend of mine, in fact. You still earned full rights of adulthood, and that’s worthy. But… (leans conspiratorially forward and lowers his voice), I do have to tell you… (they all lean in to hear, as he speaks almost apologetically) now that you are adults, you are representing Plataea and can be held fully accountable for your actions. There are some people at my table who have the ear of the Captain, and they don’t want to be bothered by your honestly deserved celebration. A more private place might be better. You should keep it down a bit… (looks pointedly at one of the young men, Plataean5) if word gets back of any brig time to your aunt Elen, Argo, she would not be amused. (Lag holds up his hands in mock surrender to forestall argument) I won’t tell. Komenagen deserves celebration. Just a word to the wise.

  The table group suddenly realizes his point, and Argo sits back a little wide eyed at the implications, while also wondering who Lag is and how he knows his name. They fall silent.

  Lag pushes his chair back and gets up, raises his glass in salute.

  Lag: Again, congratulations!

  Lag turns and heads back for his table.

  As he walks back he passes a young lady in clothes similar to those worn by the Plataeans at the table. She sees him and stops with a deer-in-the-headlights expression, as if she can’t believe who she’s seeing right in front of her. She watches him return to his seat, then hurries over to her table to join her friends. There is a rapid chatter of energetic whispers and gesturing, with some unclear louder voices, quickly dying down in the background.

  CUT TO

  Helton’s dinner table

  Lag returns to the table and sits. Looking around at them, he nods and smiles cheerily.

  Lag: They did well, and deserve a good celebration. I think they understand things now and will be quieting down soon.

  Senator: I should hope so, the rowdies. Kids today, no respect. What in a kid’s life is worth that kind of noise?

  Lag: Komenagen. They are now legally adults. By the way, Senator, did you know that the Plataean way to reply to an apology you accept is to say “proper”, meaning it was a proper apology, and no further action is needed?

  Senator: (Densely) Huh? I don’t get your point.

  Doc: (Almost simultaneous with the Senator) Them? Adults? But they look like kids!

  Doc’s Wife: What’s Komen-whatever?

  Lag: Komenagen. Plataean coming-of-age trial. Legal adulthood and voting rights are earned there and have no specific age. Some earn it by military service-

  Senator’s Wife: I’ve heard Plataean soldiers are bloodthirsty butchers!

  Lag: -some by earning a living on their own for a decade, but most go through a trial between the ages of 15 and 21 standard years to demonstrate adult capabilities.

  Doc’s Wife: How barbaric!

  Lag: Not at all. “Things not earned are not valued.” The individual picks the challenge, with advice from adults close to them. It can be something relatively easy, like planning and catering a full dinner for 20 people, including childcare and entertainment, for someone with more limited abilities and modest aspirations, to apprenticeships like one of those young men went for, or even some very difficult, perhaps life threateni
ng, challenges, that may take a year or more to complete. Military service in battle often passes on its own merit.

  Trask: (Sounding unconvinced) So why doesn’t everyone just do something simple and be done with it?

  Lag shrugs and serves himself from a some dishes set in front of his place.

  Lag: True, all who pass legally become adults, regardless of score… but that score becomes the first point on their resume. A high score can help one’s prospects a great deal.

  Doc: So, how is it scored, if everyone is doing different things?

  Lag: It is based on three simple scores from 1 to 5, overall difficulty, difficulty for the chosen challenge relative to that person’s particular abilities, and actual performance. Those three numbers are multiplied together, and any extra points they earn are added in.

  Senator: They… hey, the big drunk one is coming over. I hope you didn’t just make him angry!

  The Senator glares at Lag, who smiles and applies himself to his food while Plataean3 approaches.

  Plataean3 walks unsteadily up to their table, and the dining room buzz quiets down to watch.

  Plataean3: (Looking straight ahead, sort of at attention, but turned toward Lag) I apologize if we-

  Lag quietly cuts him off with a sound, then nods toward the rest of the table, and speaking very quietly and pointedly.

  Lag: Ah. Not me. Them.

  Plataean3 slurs his words slightly, seemingly thinking about it hard to make sure he speaks correctly, and he turns towards the Senator.

  Plataean3: We are sorry if we disturbed you Sir, that was not our intent. It won’t happen again.

  He then stands there, awaiting a reply from the surprised table.

  Senator: (Confirming with Lag) Uh, proper? (Lag nods) Proper!

  Plataean3 nods assent, does an about face, returns to his table briefly, then heads out the door with three others.

  The people at Lag’s table look between themselves, at the departing Plataeans, then at Lag.

  Senator: (Eyebrows raised in surprise) What did you say to them?

  Lag: (Seemingly preoccupied by eating then looking up from his dish) Hmmm? Oh, I just wished them well and explained the situation clearly.

  Lag takes another bite of his food, as if he’d explained everything, and it was trivial.

  Senator: How did you know he’d apologize?

  Lag: (Swallow) Wasn’t sure, but it was a likely outcome. With clear understanding a best course is usually obvious.

  Penger Trask: (Curiously) I’m sorry, I didn’t catch if you said what you do.

  Lag: Ah. Didn’t. Dispute resolution and troubleshooting. Mostly corporate or intergovernmental. (Smiling) Occasionally interpersonal.

  Trask: It seems you know your business.

  Lucretia Trask: (Ingratiatingly) Perhaps you could settle a small dispute at the table?

  Lag: Maybe. No guarantees, unless… (joking grin) you get a contract and a bill.

  There is general laughter around the table.

  Lucretia Trask: Well, before you arrived there was a question as to which occupation was more important, a senator, or a doctor?

  Everyone at the table becomes either silent and interested or slightly embarrassed at the obvious attempt to liven things up at someone else’s expense.

  Lag: Ah, I see. So, if I may interpret your question more precisely, you are asking me to say who is the most important person at this table?

  There is some halfhearted protesting by the Doc and Senator and their spouses that that isn’t really what was being questioned, but also some hearty “that’s a great way to put it” by the rest of the passengers at the table and a few nearby who have been listening in. Lag looks around at everyone seated.

  Lag: Well… (chews thoughtfully while looking around the table) Obviously I don’t know everyone perfectly, so there is always a chance I’m wrong, but… a senator passes laws that affect everyone… but if he makes a mistake, he doesn’t know who died, there are lawsuits, money changes hands, and he passes another law while blaming the opposition.

  There are general gasps of agreement at the baldness and accuracy of his words.

  Lag: A surgeon holds life in his hands. If he makes a mistake, someone dies on his table…

  The Senator and his Wife look flustered, the Doctor smiles but says nothing.

  Lag: But it’s only that one person.

  The Doc frowns, and the Senator’s Wife smiles.

  Lag: However… judging by the flaming cogwheel of a drive tech, the number of stripes on his sleeve and bags under his eyes, the chief engineer down there (everyone swivels to look at the somewhat disheveled older man in an ill-fitting and rumpled ship uniform, with a badge on one shoulder and many service and rank stripes), has been putting in long hours keeping this old bird flying. If he makes a mistake, we all die. I’d say he is the most important person on this ship right now.

  There is a general acclamation of his answer at the table, muted protests by both the Senator and Doc and their wives, and the Chief Engineer’s surprised expression slowly turns into a grin.

  DISSOLVE TO

  Same table. The evening passes, dinner eaten, conversation moved on, seating shuffled a bit, and now Lag and the Chief sit next to each other.

  Lag: (Quietly, and directly towards the Chief) Seriously, how are things?

  Chief: Holding together. We’re down a few key guys so we do a few extra shifts. Keeps us busy. No real problems, though.

  Lag nods in understanding and leans back in his chair.

  DISSOLVE TO

  Same table, later. The view is from behind and between Trask and Lag as they sit leaning slightly together and half facing the table, Bipasha and Helton are chatting in the background.

  Trask: Well, that is a way to end an argument, though I think you made an enemy or two.

  Lag: (Chuckling) I said I settle disputes, not that I make people happy… Besides, bending a third rate snollygoster that will get voted out next election and a man with delusions of importance and a lot of blustery arrogance but no power outside his hospital is a small price for truth.

  Trask: Well, you certainly made everyone else at the table happy.

  Lag: It is amazing how a little perspective makes things clear, isn’t it?

  Trask: (Somewhat more seriously) Yes, indeed. You know, I was wondering…

  Lag: (Knowingly) If I’m available for some intractable problem you have?

  Trask nods the affirmative and looks inquiringly at Lag.

  Lag: Things are a little busy at the moment, but I may have some openings. What and where?

  Trask: I was heading to Throwdart II to deal with a series of disputes at a local mine. It seemed to finally be settled after an explosion killed some people, but now the accounting is looking very… odd. And I’m not getting any straight answers from anyone.

  Lag: Hmmm… I don’t usually do accounting issues, but… Throwdart II is interesting. Rough place a while back, with a very ugly mine strike. Quiet now, I hear.

  Penger Trask: (Nodding) Ah, good, you know of it. So… any chance you’ll be out that way?

  Lag: Not planning on it, but it’s not too far off course. If we catch a swirl that forces us over that way, I might be able to drop in. Are you going directly there?

  Penger Trask: Not quite. I’ve another couple of stops. I should land there in a month or so.

  Lag: Well, we can talk more as we get closer to transfer, and I’ll see what looks possible.

  FADE TO BLACK

  FADE IN

  EXT - NIGHT - Dimly lit space station, black of space in background

  Several ships are attached to a large transfer point space station in orbit four or five AUs from the star, well out to the edge of its gravity well. One liner is approaching, a freighter is leaving. Both are glowing faintly. Serene and quiet, looking as if everything is going according to a computer-regulated plan. On one of the docked liners there is a small flash of an explosion, and debris sprays away from it in
to space.

  CUT TO

  INT - DAY - Interior of spaceport docking ring

  A couple of Liner crew in uniform say the routine “Goodbye and thanks for flying with us” to the departing passengers headed down the gangway, Lag included among them. The crew’s voices are flat, visage grim. In the background, the one-armed Plataean is standing at stiff attention in a brand new ship uniform, a barely contained smile on his face as he salutes Lag as he walks by. Lag nods in reply with a grin.

  Lag: Looking sharp, young man! Do your family proud! Now, get out of here. You’ve got work to do!

  One Arm turns and heads away. Lag turns to leave as the CEO passes by.

  Trask: Good luck on your trip, and I hope our paths cross near Throwdart next month so we can connect on the ground.

  He sticks out his hand to shake. Lag takes it.

  Lag: I will, I will. And if you ever find out where that missing two and a quarter percent went, let me know, sounds interesting.

  Lag heads down the gangway. With him go the Doctor & Doc Wife, the Senator, and others, while Trask goes back for his wife. Helton (carrying his duffel) and Bipasha (carrying nothing) walk side by side, then look up and around at the lights as they fluctuate in brightness.

  Bipasha: Another power system problem? Glad we made it to the station.

  Helton: Yeah. And lucky there are some other ships docked with room to squeeze us all into, if only barely. To bad we couldn’t both make the same one, though.

  The lighting fluctuates more, and a distant, barely audible thump is heard amid the hubbub.

  They walk down the gangway together. The waiting room beyond has a couple of exits with reader boards above each listing different ships and parts of the station.