Parker's Folly

by Doug L. Hoffman

  Between Ludmilla and the sexy blond newswoman, there will probably be some interesting interpersonal dynamics to deal with before the voyage is over, thought Gretchen. Billy Ray was a known hound dog and she had spotted Susan Write looking at the Captain with a predatory glint in her eyes on more than one occasion. Don't borrow trouble, girl, she scolded herself.

  Lt. Curtis knocked on the sea cabin's door and the Captain said “come.” Entering the cabin, the Lieutenant formally introduced the trio as the Captain shook each one's hand in turn.

  “I'm glad to be welcoming you on board Parker's Folly—Col. Kondratov, Lt. Col Tropsha, Dr. Saito. I know you must be brimming with questions about us and this ship.”

  “To say the least, Captain!” Ivan replied. “How is it that you have technology only seen in science fiction books or movies? And how has your country kept it secret? Why have you kept it secret?”

  “You see Colonel, our government doesn't know about this ship. Or at least it didn't until we were forced to takeoff just a few hours ago.”

  “You expect us to believe that your government is unaware of this ship, its technology?” asked Yuki. “I find that a bit incredulous, Captain.”

  “Folly was built by a very rich man, a Mr. TK Parker. He bankrolled the ship's construction. If you have enough money nearly anything is possible. The government wasn't made aware of this project because Mr. Parker doesn't trust the U.S. government, or any other for that matter. As for the advanced technology, most of it stems from a breakthrough in gravitonics.”

  “I have never heard of such a field of scientific study,” said a doubtful Dr. Saito. “It sounds more like the sort of pseud-science one finds on the Internet.”

  “You are a scientist, Dr. Saito. You arrive at explanations based on empirical data derived from experiment and observation. Is that not correct?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “And you as well, Dr. Tropsha? In fact, all three of you trust in science and the scientific method?”

  “Yes, this is true, Captain,” answered Ludmilla. “Why do you ask us this question?”

  “Because, as you can clearly see by dropping an object or by bouncing up and down on the deck, there is gravity here—or at least something the acts just like gravity. Can we agree that this is observed fact?”

  “How can we tell this isn't some form of elaborate hoax?” demanded Ivan.

  “You are familiar with Ockham's Razor? Or as Einstein phrased it ‘So einfach wie möglich und so kompliziert wie nötig’?”

  “Yes, ‘As simple as possible and as complicated as necessary,’” Ludmilla translated. “This is a well known saying.”

  “Yes, Americans often reduce it to KISS—keep it simple stupid. But the true meaning is, that given multiple explanations for some phenomenon, the simplest explanation is best.”

  “Your point, Captain?”

  “Look around you. This ship is exactly as presented, with capabilities you find hard to believe but which have been plainly demonstrated. That this is true is the simplest explanation for your current circumstances. Any other explanation requires such convoluted logic and improbable actions as to render them not merely impossible but laughably so.

  “My point Col. Kondratov, Dr. Saito, Lt. Col Tropsha, is that—given you were stranded on board a space station orbiting 350 kilometers above Earth's surface and in peril of your lives—when someone shows up and rescues you in an obviously functioning spaceship with air, gravity and all the conveniences of home, one should not imply that one's new host is a fraud or liar. In fact, it might be wise to give that host the benefit of the doubt.”

  Ivan swore in Russian and then said. “My apologies, Captain. Please understand that we have just gone from sitting helplessly, contemplating certain death, to being swept up by a spaceship of a kind I have only dreamed about as a boy. It is overwhelming and I am sorry if my words gave offense.”

  “Yes, Captain. I also offer my humble apologies,” Yuki said while bowing to the ship's officers.

  “And now that we have proven what uncultured ingrates we can be, what do we do next, Captain?” Ludmilla crossed her arms and arched one shapely ash-blond eyebrow.

  My God, thought the Captain. Now I have two women who do that Mr. Spock eyebrow thing. Well it's time to get everything out in the open, but this should be done in front of everyone aboard—trapped news people, stowaways, Marines, and skeptical cosmonauts included. “What I would like to do is brief everyone on board. It is probably time that everyone meets their fellow shipmates as well. For that we need to move aft to the main passenger lounge. Would you lead the way, Lt. Curtis?”

  “Of course, Captain. This way please, everyone.” Gretchen smiled at the station crew and threw Jack an approving glance. The Russian light colonel is certainly blunt-spoken. He handled that without once raising his voice, I probably would have lost my temper. I can't wait until he explains Lt. Bear to everyone.

  Main Lounge, Parker's Folly

  The Captain and the First Officer arrived in the main lounge with the three space station crew members. An announcement had been broadcast over the ship's PA asking all crew and passengers to come to the main lounge if possible. The news team, Susan and JT, were standing by the large viewport staring out at the ISS hanging in space nearby.

  The Captain had ordered the bar open and Jo Jo Medina and Melissa Hamilton were handing out drinks to all comers. Leaning on the sweeping curve of polished mahogany were the two helmsmen, Bobby Danner and Billy Ray Vincent. Billy Ray looked as he might while checking out the action in an Austin bar. The two stowaways, still in their gray contractor uniforms, were sitting at opposite ends of one of the lounge sofas, both clutching drinks and avoiding eye contact.

  GySgt Rodriguez and HM2 White had come forward from the sickbay. They were joined by Dr. Gupta and Freddy Adams from engineering. The Chief and his two helpers, Steve Hitch and Matt Jacobs entered from the companionway in the rear. Following Jacobs came the Marines, still a bit unsteady from being stunned. The Marines were wearing dark green coveralls like the Gunnery Sergeant and Doc White. Following the third Marine, a white muzzle with a black nose poked out of the companionway.

  The nose was followed by the rest of Lt. Bear's considerable bulk. Squeezing through the meter in diameter companionway, the ursine officer pulled himself out onto the lounge floor like a polar bear in the wild, emerging from a hole in the ice. Conversation in the lounge stopped.

  As all eyes turned toward the figures in the rear corner of the room, Lt. Bear nudged one of the Marines forward with his nose. Spotting their sergeant, the still disoriented Marines shuffled in her direction as fast as the unfamiliar tenth-g gravity allowed. Everyone else's attention was on the huge white bear, who sat down on the deck and stared back.

  “That is a polar bear,” said Ludmilla Tropsha, stating the obvious. “They can be very dangerous,” she continued, concern rising in her voice. “Why do you have a dangerous animal loose on your ship, Captain?”

  “That is Lt. Bear, the ship's security officer,” Captain Jack replied evenly. “Say hello to the crew, Lieutenant.”

  “Hello,” the polar bear said in a deep base voice.

  “I knew it talked!” said the Gunnery Sergeant.

  “Is it some kind of freak, or a medical experiment?” asked the Russian medical doctor, backing away.

  “Certainly not! And one thing I will not tolerate on board this ship is speciesism.” The Captain was rather enjoying this, Bear's appearance had totally flustered the self-assured Russian doctor.

  “But he talks!” exclaimed Susan.

  “I can dance a little too, if that helps.” the bear said to the reporter.

  “But bears—polar bears—do not talk!” insisted Ludmilla.

  “Just because you have never encountered a talking bear doesn't mean that no bears can talk. It is like insisting that all swans are white because you have never seen a black one.”

  “I am not talking about swans, Captain! I am t
alking about polar bears—that polar bear!” Ludmilla pointed at the bear in question.

  “Please Doctor, don't point, it's impolite.” Yes, the Captain was definitely enjoying this. “Doctor, imagine you were studying primates and had only observed chimpanzees and gorillas, and maybe the odd orangutan. Would you find it impossible to believe that a human could talk if one showed up in your midst? We are obviously primates and related to the other great apes. Would your previous observations demand humans be speechless as well?”

  “You're saying this is like the Planet of the Apes?” said JT.

  “Only with bears,” added GySgt Rodriguez.

  “In reverse,” the Captain finished. Then, seeing puzzled looks around the cabin he explained, “like Planet of the Apes except that we are the damned dirty apes.”

  “That makes me Charlton Heston,” Lt. Bear said, giving the crew a toothy ursine smile.

  * * * * *

  Following the introduction of Lt. Bear the lounge briefly fell into chaos, as most of those assembled rushed the bar. Susan, followed by JT, headed straight for Lt. Bear. Evidently curiosity can kill not only cats, but television reporters as well.

  “Pardon me, Lt. Bear. I'm Susan Write, KWTEX News, and I was wondering if we could have an interview?” Up close, she noticed that Lt. Bear wore a harness of thin white straps, nearly invisible against his coat, mounting on one side a communication pip. Susan turned toward JT as he caught up with her. “This is my cameraman, JT.”

  “What's up, brother?” Bear asked JT.

  “What?”

  “I said ‘what's up, brother?’ I understand that's how you black humans greet each other.”

  “Some of us do and some of us don't, but why are you saying it?”

  “Why? Because, beneath this magnificent white coat, my skin is blacker than yours is. We minorities have to stick together so the man can't mess with us.” Lt. Bear's dark brown-black eyes stared into JT's.

  “I can't tell if he's joking or not,” JT said to Susan out of the side of his mouth. Bear smiled his tooth filled smile again. “And a smile from a large predator ain't the same thing as a smile between us humans.”

  “Come on, JT. If he was dangerous he wouldn't be here among all the passengers and crew.”

  “Lady, next to the Captain, I'm the most dangerous thing on this boat.”

  “Oh,” said Susan, taken aback. “I didn't mean to insult you Lieutenant.”

  “No problem, just setting the record straight,” then, after thinking for a moment, he added, “you wouldn't want to mess with Gretchen, either.”

  “Gretchen? First Officer Curtis?”

  “Yeah, she's pretty dangerous too, especially with that big stick of her's.”

  “OK.” Now why would he say that, Susan wondered? And how could the Captain be more dangerous than this half ton behemoth? Curiouser and curiouser. “Well I would really like to sit down and interview you, Lt. Bear—do I call you Lt. Bear, or Lieutenant or Mr. Bear?”

  “One's as good as another, they're all accurate,” Bear added noncommittally.

  “Do you have a first name?”

  “In Kalaallisut they call me Nanoq, in Central Siberian Yupik they call me Nanuq, all basically variations on Nanuk. It means ‘polar bear’. The Inuit are not that inventive.”

  “I see, so just Bear then?”

  “Yeah, that works for me. The Inuit consider Nanuk to be wise, powerful and ‘almost a man.’ I consider the Inuit a pain in the ass or, at best, lunch. Here, let me buy you primates a drink.”

  With that Lt. Bear stood up on all fours and ambled over to the bar where everyone rapidly made way for the lumbering quadruped. Evidently, polar bears never have a problem finding room at the bar. Susan and JT followed him over to where a slight young woman with curly brown hair was serving drinks one-handed. Her right arm was in a cast and sling.

  “Hey, Melissa, how are you feeling, babe?” Asked Bear, with considerable tenderness. “Susan, JT, I'd like you to meet Melissa, the ship's gardener and my favorite bartender.”

  “Hello, nice to meet you,” Susan said, offering her left hand. The pale bartender shyly accepted the proffered handshake.

  “I'm actually an environmental tech, the ship's horticulturist,” Melissa explained, shaking hands with JT.

  “Like I said, the ship's gardener,” the furry Lieutenant repeated. “Hey, gardeners are good people, at least they do something productive!”

  “Bear pretty much judges everybody and everything with respect to their food value,” Melissa said with a smile, reaching out and scratching the top of Bear's nose. “He's a very up front person, if he says he likes you he likes you. But you need to watch out, bears have a wicked sense of humor.”

  “I think I've already had a sample of that from soul brother Bear here,” JT added. “What do you have back there that's fit to drink, Melissa?”

  “Lone Star and Shiner Bock on draught; Stone Sublimely Self Righteous Ale, Great Divide Oak Aged Yeti Imperial Stout, Dogfish Head 90 Minute Imperial IPA and Double Bastard Ale in bottles; a decent selection of wines plus about any mixed drink you can think of. Mr. Parker, the ship's owner, believes in the curative power of strong drink.”

  “I'll have a Double Bastard,” said JT.

  “A glass of Shiraz for me, please,” Susan chimed in.

  “And I'll have my usual, babe.” added Bear.

  Melissa nodded and turned to fetch the drinks. While they waited for their libation, Susan scanned the lounge. Most of the furor over Lt. Bear's introduction had died down, though the Marines kept stealing furtive glances at him. Over at the big viewport, the Captain was huddled with the two Russians while the Japanese scientist and Rajiv Gupta were engaged in an animated conversation nearby. Those two were obviously birds of a feather, Susan decided.

  Melissa arrived with their drinks, both her wine and JT's beer in containers with sippy cup lids to guard against spilling. Lt. Bear's drink was in a plastic quart bottle with a straw protruding from its cap. “Here you go folks, y'all enjoy!”

  “Thanks, babe,” Bear replied, eagerly grasping the bottle of dark fluid. Bear turned around to face the rest of the people in the lounge and sat down on his hind end. Using both paws, he brought the container up over his head and took a long drink from the straw, looking for all the world like a circus bear doing its act.

  “And what are you drinking, Lieutenant?” Susan asked, overcome with curiosity. Smacking his lips, Lt. Bear snorted once and then replied, “Blackberry brandy.”

  Susan had a passing concern about being in the vicinity of a drunken polar bear but then realized that the ursine Lieutenant weighed ten times as much as she did. The quart of brandy would probably barely give him a buzz.

  “It's his favorite,” offered Melissa from behind the bar. “And don't mind that ‘babe’ stuff. He calls everyone he likes babe.” Lt. Bear let lose a heartfelt belch and then the room fell silent as the Captain signaled for the crowd's attention once more.

  Chapter 9

  Main Lounge, Parker's Folly

  Everyone assembled in the ship's main lounge turned to face Captain Jack as he prepared to speak. “I hope that everyone has gotten something to drink,” he began. This elicited cheers of affirmation from around the room.

  “I realize that most of you are strangers to this vessel. Parker's Folly—that, by the way, is an unofficial name since the ship was never christened, but a ship needs a name and Folly will do for now—Parker's Folly is a spaceship commissioned by Mr. TK Parker. Her design was created by several great scientific minds, one of which we are fortunate to have on board. Dr. Gupta, please raise your hand.” Rajiv, standing nearby, raised his hand.

  “Dr. Rajiv Gupta is Earth's greatest expert in the new field of gravitonics and the ship's head engineer. If you have questions regarding the deck gravity or the ship's drive, please direct your questions to him. If, that is, you can pry him away from Dr Saito.”

  That brought a ripple of laughter from the crowd�
��the two physicists had been locked in a energetic and totally incomprehensible conversation since the two met.

  “I will say this, this ship is powered by a form of nuclear fusion and is capable of great, sustained acceleration. Most of you felt that acceleration during takeoff. Understand, that was only about a quarter of what she is capable of.

  I also know that many of you were injured during our departure. I apologize for the rough treatment, it was not our intent to harm you in anyway, but the authorities forced our hand. The fact of the matter is, most of you do not belong on board—the members of the KWTEX news crew, Gunnery Sergeant Rodriguez's Marines, various stowaways and the crew from the ISS, though they are a welcome late addition to the ship's company.”

  At this point the Gunny, still feeling irritable over her dislocated shoulder and the unfairness of life in general, interrupted. “Tell me Captain, why does it seem that most of the people on board your ship were kidnapped?”

  “Well Sergeant Rodriguez, that is not exactly true. We were in the process of disembarking the news people when fire from your squad prevented them from leaving. Then your Marines entered the cargo hold of you're own volition, uninvited I might add. These two,” the captain motioned to the two construction workers, “were actual stowaways, and you all know how the people from the space station came to be aboard. No, Sergeant, no one on board was kidnapped.”

  “I guess I see your point, Sir. But we were under orders.”

  “Yes, I'll get to that. But first I want to let you know that we won't be returning to the surface of the planet any time soon. The U.S. government attempted to seize this ship and we in Texas don't hold with government seizure of private property. I intend to keep the ship in space for a while, at least until the authorities have some time to calm down a bit.