by Jim Rudnick
"Captain, this is a star that the Barony records show that the last time it was inventoried, it was a simple yellow super-giant. But as you can see, it's grown dramatically and is now twice its previous size. The fact that it's tucked just alongside the RIM nebula here on the edge of our Confederacy might be one reason we didn't notice before, but Ma'am—look at the colors—the double shells are showing red—" and he hit a switch that changed the display resolution, and more of the star could be seen as the camera pulled back.
"Which means, Captain, that this is a supernova in waiting," the Science officer stated flatly.
He went on, of course, and she sipped her tea.
"As we know about this kind of process, the yellow super-giant runs out of its hydrogen fuel; then as it expands and grows into a hyper-giant, it moves to burning its helium, and the color goes red which is what we are seeing now for the first time here on the RIM. It will grow and grow too into a full hyper-giant, bright red, luminous even. Yes, this star is in its death throes, Captain, and it won't be a hundred years in my opinion until it goes nova. It'll burn up that helium quickly and then move through all the heavier elements until it builds up a solid iron core—at which time that core will collapse and boom—a Type II supernova, Ma'am. Right here on the RIM. Perhaps in our lives ..."
She could tell that if it were up to him, it would be today. "Last time we know that this happened?" she asked dryly.
"A few hundred years ago, inwards—part of the reasons why the Taylor Wars erupted, Ma'am," Switzer said. "May I ask, Ma'am, that we send a probe off to the RIM Navy on this as well as have our Ansible officer send off the latest stats and some images too, Ma'am? One thing more—that it is usual that there is a naming process too, in that the one who finds this can usually request that the RIM Astronomy section name it after him—or her, Ma'am," he said and he turned to go back to his station.
She thought about that for a moment, then turned to her Ansible officer, and tilted her head back at her Science officer.
"What Lieutenant Commander Switzer said, please follow up on that. Get the probe off and then send all those stats and images et al. to the Astronomical section of the Navy too—and please make the formal request that this be named after the Barony—the Barony Nova would be nice, I believe," she said and the tea was done.
A few hours later, the Baroness dropped by to sit in the Royal only chair, and Vennamo caught her up on all the details of their trip to Ghayth and the extra item that they had found a star that was a nova candidate and they'd reported same to the RIM Navy people. Vennamo shared that she had decided to call it the Barony Nova—presupposing that was okay, she asked and received a half-listening nod from the Baroness.
Today, she wore coral; the color of those anemones you see often on a barrier reef, sort of subdued yet saturated at the same time. When the Baroness moved, her skirt and matching blouse waved like it was being lit with a small spotlight that washed over the shades and made them shimmer and glow. How she did that, the captain had no idea—on her, that outfit she knew would look "plain Jane." Perhaps, it was the body imaging and millions spent on building a physique that could support that kind of outfit, or not.
I have no idea, but this I do know. There was not a man on the bridge who was immune to her looks. She shook that off as she realized she'd been asked a question and she had no idea what it had been.
She busied herself with a couple of keystrokes on her captain's console and pretended to be busy. A moment later, she looked up at the Baroness and said, "Pardon, Ma'am?"
The Baroness was toying with her necklace, playing and twirling the largest Eon gold braid she'd ever seen. That must have cost five years of a captain's pay, she thought. The necklace must have lost a bit of its interest as she dropped it and sat up a bit straighter as she crossed one leg over the other and said, "Our ETA on Ghayth, Captain?" and she smiled. But it was an empty smile, Vennamo thought, as she quickly looked up at the sidebar on the front view-screen display.
"Ma'am, we're due in about thirty hours at this speed. We could, of course, use our Tachyon over-drive to increase our speed and arrive by mid-evening, Ma'am. What would you like us to do?" she said. Being the captain on the Baroness's personal destroyer was a job she once had relished—and to be honest, it was still a lot of fun in many respects. "Except when there was a butt in the Royal chair," she said to herself, and that was more often than not.
The Baroness shook her head. "No, tomorrow will be fine, Captain," and she began to issue out orders to the bridge crew.
"Ansible, please notify Ghayth administration of our arrival, and I want a meeting five minutes after we get there on our current status. Please have all section and department heads in attendance—fly them in if needs be, but I want experts at the table—got it?" she asked but she didn't even wait for a confirmation.
"Science—I want all you can find on Ghayth and its climate. I'm interested in determining why it always rains and what we can do about it—and yes, if needs be, I am talking about planet-wide Terra-forming too. I want enough facts and figures to see if we can come up with a plan. One that will help us change Ghayth into something more livable for us humans," she said and the science officer was scribbling more notes as she moved on.
"Helm, tomorrow when we get close, I want one full high orbit around the equator for the Compass. I want to see with my own eyes if there is any break or differentiation in the cloud cover. Set that up and notify me soon as we take up the nexus of the orbit.
"Tactical, I have heard that there are reports of some kind of 'climate change' that can occur when using tactical nukes—I want a full report on that including your own opinions on same on my console in quarters in an hour. Look to the rumors of the Pentyaan civil war as I remember back eighty years ago or so too ... side-effects as I remember, but I want to know more."
She stretched for a moment, and all the male eyes were averted, Eleanor noted as the Baroness's skirt rode up on her shapely thighs. But she didn't notice and she yawned for a moment too.
"'Til then ..." she said as she rose in one lithe motion and walked off the bridge.
Some gazes followed her, and the captain knew this woman was truly magnificent. Too bad, she thought, that she was so un-reachable. I've never shared a personal comment or moment with her. She is totally walled off from all the crew—and from the rumors on Neres, from her stepdaughter too. Guess that's what it's like for a gold-digger, she thought as the popular term for her came to mind.
Don't know really enough of the background, but one thing for sure, she thought—this woman would one day rule the RIM. There was no doubt about that in Eleanor's mind. .
####
He re-read the Gallipedia page and then nodded.
It did make the best sense, and after all, sometimes the best thing to do was to "go with the flow" and that meant talking to Nancy over a dinner.
He sighed—not a nice big fancy dinner at the CPR Cafe—but instead a comfort food dinner in the Hospital Ship cafeteria.
It would have to do, and he would have to thank a friend over in the labs later for pointing him at this Gallipedia forum site that talked about how to have a serious talk with your "main squeeze," though why that term was used was beyond him.
He used his wrist PDA to message her and asked if they could meet after his work shift was over in the cafeteria, and she quickly agreed. She reminded him they would not be having any wine with their dinner and they were both on the same budget, and that got a grunt of agreement out of him.
Budgets. If I had balls, I could just slip the doc a mouse and we'd be debt free.
He noodled that around in his brain once more—just like he'd done pretty steadily since his arm had been twisted by the Caliphate doctor, and he still had no way to position it as a good thing. Not really. He'd have loved for it to work, but he knew better, and that was probably his parents fault. He sighed.
He perked up a bit as he cleaned the bottom row of the second rack of animal cages w
hen a pair of beady eyes stared up at him from over on his right.
Ah, my escapee is giving me the eye. He smiled as he reached in an empty cage and scooped up the food bowl. Gently and slowly, he moved it down to the floor and slowly toward the mouse that partially hid behind the huge caster wheel on the third rack of cages. The mouse wasted no time at all and began to chow down on the dry kibble. As it was busy, Nathan also slid a half-full water dish over too, and the mouse watched as it chewed but didn't move.
Guess when you're out of food for a day or two, you get friendly it appears.
He had nothing extra to offer, so he made a mental note to Gallipedia for mouse treats and planned to bring some in for his friend.
Cage cleaning went okay after that, and in an hour, he was done.
Cleaning himself up in the teensy mirror in the head was a chore, but he was able to slick down his cowlick blond hair, and he doffed his lab coat into the laundry bin for pickup tomorrow.
Dinner. Confess. Then make love. Sounds like a great evening. He'd very much like to skip the middle one, but that was really not his fault. It was his addiction that the casino had preyed on. That was clear.
Nancy smiled as he approached the small table, and he noted that true to form, she had gotten him the same Turkey à la King dinner with his favorite rice. She had gotten a single piece of their famous apple pie and two forks for dessert. He smiled and leaned over the small table in the half-full cafeteria and kissed her deeply. The kiss lasted just a touch longer than she had been ready for, and she blushed and smiled.
"So, how's work, my research scientist husband-to-be?" she said as she scooped up some of the casserole and popped it into her mouth.
He joined her and nodded as he too chewed, and he was thankful they had such a great dinner.
One down, and now to get to number two on my list.
He put down his fork, picked up his water, and looked at her as she was eating with relish.
"Nancy, something else has come up—well, rather it needs to be talked about, and I know that this has to occur right now, honey," he said and as he did, her fork slowed and so did her chewing.
She nodded and quickly washed down her mouthful of food, and she looked at him with a solemn face.
He took one more drink and said as softly as he could, "I'm being blackmailed, honey. And I wanted you to know too."
She gave him a very quizzical look. As she gathered herself to start with the questions, he grabbed her hands with his and stopped her.
He explained. He let her know that the casino had gotten a Caliphate doctor to approach him to steal a mouse with the working vaccine. By doing so, they'd forgive his total indebtedness. More than 70,000 credits for a mouse, one hell of a price, he commented.
He had considered it.
He didn't want to—but this happened just before he met her and they fell in love, so he'd said yes.
Yes, he knew it was wrong, but at the time, there had seemed to be no way out.
He hung his head at that, and she squeezed his hands.
As he looked up at her, he told her that now things were different. Now he had her. Now he was through with gambling.
So now was the time to tell her and to tell the Caliphate doctor to get lost—they had no deal.
Because now, she said, they had each other and together, they'd pay his debts and that would mean that he'd not have to do this terrible thing.
She smiled at him, but he could see it wasn't a real hearty smile. She was still hovering around this, which was a bit unsettling, but he said nothing.
They both began eating their dinners again. Conversation was on her latest ear testing analytics and that one of the docs had said how she'd soon be able to hear a door close down in Neres City if this kept up. They laughed and he thought all was well.
He took a moment when they moved on to the shared apple pie—one of the cafeteria's best desserts, and he looked at her with his head on a slant.
She knew that meant he had a query he was not vocalizing, and she took the opportunity to wolf down two big sized bites of the pie and then nodded.
"Okay, Nat—what is it?" she said.
"Honey, it's just that ... well ... you know that if I had done this and anyone had ever discovered it, I'd have never worked in research again. I wanted you to know that I did know that. But compared to the payoff of no debts—as well as the lure of then being a gambler with no debts—had swayed me. I am so sorry to have to admit that—especially to you, Nan. I am so sorry," he said and his voice caught in the back of his throat, and she grabbed his arm to steady him.
He shook his head. Then he shook it again and looked up at her once more and semi-smiled at her. "This will never ever happen again, Nan ... on that you have my word," he said as he laid a hand on top of hers and squeezed back.
She nodded and that seemed to end the conversation as the pie disappeared too.
He walked arm in arm with her as they walked first and then rode the rotunda walkway before taking the escalators up to his quarters.
One down. Two down. Now for number three, he thought, which brought a huge smile to his face.
####
"Why this dumbkopf would want to meet in the cafeteria is beyond me," Dr. Bassem said to himself, yet there was that Ward fellow sitting at a table off to one side. He had a tray of food that had been mostly consumed, and he was toying with the remains of a pie.
Don't like the pie here, he thought, as they used fruits that were far too moist. Pie should be made from dates or figs even, not apples and peaches. He shook his head as he sat down and looked the young man in the eye.
"So, Ward—do we as yet have a winning vaccine?"
Ward smiled at him and straightened out his breast pocket with its various pens and his favorite mechanical pencil.
"That is no concern of yours, Doctor. I came to tell you that we do not have a deal—and nothing else," he said and he felt good saying that. It would cost him more than 70,000 dollars in credits, but it still felt right. It felt very right.
Kahil stared at him. He was upset and yet he tried not to show that—perhaps there would still be a way.
"Ward—have you considered how long you'll be eating mac and cheese, trying to pay off this debt? And how much it will go up with interest too, when you miss a payment by even an hour? We will ensure that we put the tightest clock on your account, Ward. You will pay for this for a long, long time—or simply give us that sample—if it's even any good. It's that easy, Ward," he said. He tried to make his voice persuasive, but he didn't know if he'd succeeded.
Ward nodded. "But my wife-to-be and I love mac and cheese, and yes, we know that our vaccine works because I've got mice that are living 150% of their lifespans with no end in sight."
The answer was trite, and Kahil lost his temper at that.
"You idiot—do you think that the Caliph will allow you to say yes and then to change your mind? You may think that you are in the clear, but now that I can tell him that you have a woman—a woman you obviously can't protect, then I think you will consider changing your mind," he said.
Ward stared at him, not breathing, but as Kahil could see, his color was rising until his face was almost bright red.
He never saw it coming, but suddenly Ward's fist was crushing into his right temple, and the younger man launched himself over the table and more punches followed. Kahil covered his head with his arms and fell to the side as Ward was screaming at him, and the whole cafeteria was abuzz with other yells and the sound of running footsteps.
Someone pulled Ward to one side, and he lost his grip on Kahil's hair but kept on trying to punch him over and over. With enough people helping, they eventually pulled him off.
Someone said to "cool it," and others said "no fighting—no fighting." Both were separated and Ward was dragged off quite a bit.
But he still yelled at Kahil.
"Do not every threaten me or my fiancée," he shouted repeatedly.
Kahil shook his h
ead and said, "You are an idiot, Ward, I never said anything of the kind." As he slowly got up, he realized his nose was bleeding, and he slapped a bunch of paper napkins on the floor on his nose and mopped it up as best as he could.
"Seems to me," he said to everyone around him, "that I am the injured party here—and I say let's forget it. Not important and the young man just misheard me is all that this is," he said as he turned on his heel and left the cafeteria.
He made it all the way back to his office up on D Deck, and in his washroom, he fixed up his nose as best as he could.
"Time for Plan B," he said to himself, and he placed a call over to the Quarantine ward nurses' station and spoke for a moment to the head nurse. She did, as she was supposed to he knew, ask for some backup on his signing off on a patients quarantine. She said he could send it over later, and she would have Jocko delivered to his office in a little while.
Jocko is up and it's time to get this Plan B planned and then in motion. No sense in taking any more time at all as Ward's attack would be the Hospital Ship gossip beginning damn soon.
Time for the fun part of being a Caliphate citizen—my EYES ONLY to the Caliph with news on the latest developments ...
####
Tanner was surprised to look up and see Lieutenant Irving staring at him here in the gym. He was about to make a joke about being so damn sweaty until he looked again at her face. She was in trouble, and he stopped his lunges on the rowing machine and fumbled his feet out of the stirrups.
"What is it, Lieutenant—are you okay?" he said as tears poured out of her eyes. She nodded but Tanner knew bluster when he saw it.
He put an arm, sweaty as it was he didn't care, around her shoulders and marched her out of the main part of the gym to the small weight room off to one side. No one was in it at this time of night, and that was a good thing. He sat her down, went over to the tables to find some towels, and gave her a clean one. At least he thought it was clean.
