Secrets in the Stars (Family Law)

by Mackey Chandler

  "Why would you reject any improvements?" Lee wondered.

  "There's a mod that greatly increases your memory, alters you time sense, and gives you perfect pitch. It also subtly alters your personality. I don't want anything that changes what makes me... me. I don't count that an improvement. There is also a mod that reduces the sleep you need by about half. But when you do sleep it is very deep. You can't be roused from it and function. It seems a safety hazard for a pilot to me. Also every person I've met who had that mod seem... off to me. They seem to me the sort who don't get jokes, and have a hard time sorting fiction from reality. I think they are more suggestible. So it's a what makes me, me issue again."

  "Did Dr. Ames warn you about those side effects?" Lee asked.

  "Heh, Jelly isn't a doctor, the way you mean it. He has several doctorates, but he's not an MD. Actually he's a veterinarian. He won't sell anything he won't take himself. And the memory mod he tried and removed. He says he likes himself better without it. I also wonder how having that good a memory is going to work, if you live a couple hundred years too. The sleeping mod he won't sell at all. He won't make anything without an undo procedure either. He's got pretty strict ethics," April said.

  "Ah, that may be useful if he's a vet," Lee said.

  "Most people get upset, and don't like the idea of a veterinarian practicing medicine," April observed.

  "Gordon was treated by one once, here on the moon actually. The only two docs with any experience treating Derf were on Earth, and she came in to assist a Human doc when he got shot. So I'm used to the idea. He later hired her to go and offer modern medicine to his clan."

  "Why her instead of an MD?" April wondered.

  "They had some doctors visit the clans, but they were so disrespectful of the herbalists and traditional healers that the Mothers booted them out. Gwen isn't quite so full of herself," Lee said.

  "I can picture that," April said, nodding. To Lee's surprise April added – "Call me before you go out-system and tell me how things went."

  "I'll do that. Thanks," Lee said, and April disconnected before her again. She'd been worried she was making a pest of herself, but apparently not. That made her feel better.

  * * *

  "Gordon, I have Custom Tailored Genes on the screen and the man is offering me an appointment for nine in the morning, day after tomorrow. Would you go with me?" Lee asked.

  "They on the same clock as here?" Gordon asked.

  "Yeah, I asked and he told me they've been on the same clock as the moon almost since their independence. He called it Zulu time," Lee said. "Damned if I know why."

  "That's why we buy web updates," Gordon reminded her.

  "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll look it up but he's waiting. Want to go with me?" Lee repeated.

  "Sure, what else am I going to do that would be half as much fun?" Gordon said gravely.

  "Yes, I'm confirming that appointment," Lee spoke at the com and ended the call. She stayed there however. If she didn't look up Zulu time Gordon would bug her to death.

  "You can never learn just one thing," Lee said much later.

  "You said that like it's a bad thing," Gordon accused.

  "Once in awhile a simple answer would be nice. How am I going to remember everything if I live hundreds of years? We'll all go crazy. No wonder April worried about it."

  Gordon looked tempted to speak, and then looked away. He was being polite today.

  "I know, you have to assume we aren't already crazy for that to happen," Lee said, before he could.

  "You're having this conversation fine without me now," Gordon observed.

  "Here's the deal. Zulu time is the same as Greenwich Mean Time, which is the time at the observatory in England where they established the zero meridian for Earth," Lee said.

  "They got all the Earthies to agree on something like that? I'm amazed," Gordon said.

  "Not at first," Lee agreed. "But this was at just the right time when sailing ships needed such a standard for navigation, and about the time they had clocks good enough to help navigate. But England was apparently a very big deal right then, and had the biggest navy. I guessing here, but I bet they made a lot of the charts too.

  "But the Zulu time is from zero, since it's the zero meridian. But I tell you... nobody ever does things the easy way and just says zero time. It seems they used something called an acrophonic alphabet when radio was new. If it was all scratchy and garbled you'd spell out the message letter by letter with an agreed upon set of easily recognized words. So Zero Time became Zulu time. Doesn't seem like much of an improvement to me, but it was faithful to the system."

  Gordon looked up scowling. "They have better radios now. They have satellite relays and fiber optics and digital processing. Why wouldn't they drop the acrophonic stuff?"

  "I suspect they think it sounds suave and military," Lee said.

  Gordon nodded. "They'd probably say it's cool. I read that phrase has come back for the fifth time recently. Slang is like that. It recycles."

  "If we go off really far away and live for a couple hundred years, I wonder if we'd be able to make any sense of their English if we come back to visit?" Lee worried.

  "You're giving this a lot of thought, aren't you? There will be problems if you live longer, but don't you think it beats the heck out of the alternative?" Gordon asked.

  "You sound like April! I'm going to do it, but it's a big mental adjustment."

  "It's funny, I thought being younger it would be easier for you," Gordon admitted.

  "It's not. But I don't know why. Maybe it isn't my age at all – just me," Lee suggested.

  "No point in me pondering it too deeply until we know they can do it for Derf," Gordon said. He seemed much calmer about that than Lee could understand.

  "We'll see to that," Lee said, firmly. With her resources that meant something.

  * * *

  The shuttle was so luxurious it shocked Lee. The deck was carpeted in a dark grey with little yellow diamonds. Then when she boarded and looked closer they weren't diamonds, they were little stylized spaceships like the company logo. The seats were covered in leather that Lee was pretty sure was real. The bare mechanisms of conduits and ducts were not visible anywhere. Everything was covered or enclosed with custom panels and housings with texture or deeper designs.

  The entire surface of the bulkhead beside them was covered with rounded off square indentations with a raised center bump like a crater on an airless world. There was a band of soft material in the deepest part. Lee knew because she reached over and poked it with a finger. She figured out pretty quickly that it absorbed the sound instead of reflecting it. The hush in the cabin just added to the sense of luxury. Everything was in different hues of gray, but with shocking yellow accents here and there.

  They had an open space for Gordon with a pad and back-rest fancier than any accommodation for Derf she'd ever seen. It even had a single restraining belt like her seat, but four times as wide to take his mass into account. Lee wondered if they installed that when a Derf made a reservation or if they had enough Derf traffic to leave it installed all the time? She wasn't entirely comfortable with just a lap belt and no shoulder straps or leg restraints. But then they weren't wearing pressure suits, so any real crash would kill them before the lack of serious restraints.

  When she was seated Lee was happy to see a space suit symbol and a recessed pull on the bulkhead below their screen. There were emergency suits if you could get one on in time. That made her feel better. There were privacy panels fore and aft of their seats, that curled around them a bit, but no doors; they were open to the aisle. However the sets of seats were staggered so the seats opposite were not easily in their view.

  Gordon turned around to face her. She hadn't realized the low seat moved. There was no obvious switch or keyboard so he reached out and tapped the screen. It came to life showing the flight deck. The crew were busy doing some sort of preflight. Probably getting clearances too, Lee guessed.

 
In the bottom corner a window said SERVICE, and showed the outline of a drinking glass and a cocktail glass. A line drawing of a balloon figure showed it bent slightly at the waist offering a generic box to a seated figure. So there must be food and maybe other stuff available too.

  "Would you like something to drink?" Gordon asked, finger poised over the little window to tap it.

  "I'm not sure. Is there a head in this can?" Lee worried.

  "Not only a head, but handicap sized, so I can use it if I turn around very carefully," Gordon said.

  "Fine, order me a Mocha then, please," Lee asked. "Where's the delivery port?" she asked, looking under the screen and finding nothing.

  "You didn't read the company site after making reservations," Gordon said with certainty. "They have a Human flight attendant on each vessel over twelve seats, to serve refreshments and any other service you require."

  "Oh my God, servants. Now I know we're rich," Lee said. "Can I get a manicure or my hair cut?"

  "Only if you tell them ahead. They invite you to let them know if you require 'special services'."

  Lee just looked at him like he'd gone around the bend. This was hard to believe.

  "You can also reserve a 'suite' on the larger shuttles that allows you to recline, but not in this smaller shuttle, and I hardly thought we'd need that.”

  Gordon tapped the little window and a face appeared. "How may I help you?" a pleasant young man asked. The screen captioned it and offered translations too.

  "I'd like a Derf sized coffee with brandy and my Human traveling companion would like a mug of Mocha," Gordon requested.

  "Thank you. You are third in queue, so it will be about ten minutes," he said, and the window reverted and became smaller too.

  The attendant brought their drinks and pulled out a holder for each of them. Lee saw the hole but had thought it was an air vent, until he stuck a finger in it and pulled.

  "Not bad, huh?" Gordon asked with a sweep of his eyes that encompassed everything.

  "I think this is what they mean in my historic novels by 'traveling first class'." Lee said.

  "Yeah, except they used to actually have separate sections on airplanes, depending on how expensive your ticket was," Gordon told her. "They called the cheap section with the cramped seats different names, economy, coach, or business, but they might as well have called them steerage or the 'cattle car' to be honest."

  "Steerage? Cattle car I can figure out, but that's a new one."

  "That's from steamships. Steerage was down in the bottom where the greasy bare cables were strung that worked the rudder. The only thing worse would have been the bilge where water leaking in collected and had to be pumped out. Nobody could ride there, except maybe a few rats."

  "We always pampered our rats," Lee said, distressed at the idea, even though they weren't pets.

  "And the mice and sparrows," Gordon remembered fondly. He didn't bother to explain.

  Chapter 31

  The docking was smooth. To the point Lee wasn't sure that's what had happened. She'd been on shuttles that made more of a racket when you flushed the toilet. When they entered it went very quickly. There was a woman in a blue security uniform behind a lectern. A white plate in a frame stuck up on the edge closest to them, and a bar raised over it like a safety bumper. They couldn't see her board, but it was obvious she was reading something for each of them who moved forward. Gordon was in front of her so his bulk kept her from seeing the process for the fellow ahead of him.

  Lee stayed close and looked around Gordon to see what was happening.

  "Name?" The lady asked. She didn't seem surprised by a Derf.

  "Gordon," was all he gave, not his full name.

  "Would you touch the pad please?" the agent requested.

  Gordon touched the white surface with a single digit and after he withdrew it there was a very brief flash. Apparently it worked just fine for Derf.

  "Name please," the woman asked Lee. She seemed a little nicer for some reason.

  "Lee Anderson," she said, taking her cue from Gordon to use the short form.

  "Touch the plate please," she requested.

  Lee did, but there was no sensation. It wasn't particularly hot or cold. She couldn't tell that anything had happened. It did flash again once she removed her hand.

  "It's a taster pad?" Lee asked.

  "Yes, it reads your DNA," the woman confirmed.

  "What's the flash then?" Lee asked puzzled.

  "There are lasers in the bar. They heat the surface very briefly to sanitize it. Any organic traces, or disease, are vaporized," she explained. "The Loonies wouldn't touch it otherwise."

  That was interesting. She had them pegged as not Loonies.

  "What would it do if your hand was still there?" Lee wondered.

  "Stick it back," the woman offered. She did something on her board and it flashed again. Lee didn't feel anything, but she thought she smelled it.

  "It burns a few dead cells away, but your hand conducts heat away much better than the ceramic. Of course your hand is now free of any bacteria or viruses. But there are two more passengers behind you, so if you want more details please wait until they've been processed."

  "Oh! I'm sorry. No thanks, that's plenty.” Lee moved away and looked back at the man behind her.

  "I'm sorry. I'm not used to lines."

  He smiled, and looked at her more thoroughly. "Deep space? Family ship?" he assessed.

  "Something very much like that, yeah. Thank you," Lee said and hurried after Gordon.

  "They don't care what you call yourself, do they?" Lee asked.

  "That's the impression I got too," Gordon agreed.

  The elevator had arrows and toe bars on the side that would be down. They oriented themselves and waited while a couple other people came in behind them. When they were all positioned the doors closed and the screen announced they would drop to the outer ring in fifteen seconds. Nobody was getting off in the higher rings, apparently. They felt an odd tug towards the deck and then a pull the other way as the elevator started moving slowly.

  Gordon looked over at Lee astonished, and then clamped his mouth back shut, visibly deciding not to say something.

  They slowly grew heavier and when the doors opened signage directed them to the cafeteria and the communications room. Businesses each way down the corridor were listed, including the Lunar Suites where they had reservations.

  "I'm a bit hungry," Gordon announced, which didn't exactly surprise Lee. "I'm sure the hotel has food, but the cafeteria is right here. Why don't we see how the natives eat?" Gordon suggested.

  "I'll find room for something," Lee agreed, although it was a little early.

  There was a screen at the entry explaining the options. You could order a la carte, which looked to be pretty expensive. A 500 gram steak dinner was 143.00 USNA$, 37.00 Ceres$, or .0032 ☼. Bean coffee was 8.00 Ceres$, a breakfast muffin sandwich 18 Ceres$. They noted day, week, month or annual cards, single or family, as well as discounted off shift rates and a breakfast only option.

  "It smells OK," Gordon said. His nose was much keener than Lee's. "We need supper and maybe a snack later, tomorrow and another three days for your treatment. Maybe breakfast the day we go back. It looks to me like the week card would be the way to go even if we don't use a day."

  There was a teller to buy the cards, and an automated buffet beside a hot bar, then an open counter to the kitchen for cooked to order. Gordon went over there and must have tripped some sort of sensor because a young man immediately appeared.

  "Excuse me. Can you tell me what the rate for Derf is?" Gordon inquired.

  "Same as the Human family plan," the young fellow said. "The cost is in labor and transport more than bulk cost. It doesn't take me longer to dish up for you than her," he said, nodding at Lee. "We never have more than two or three Derf on station. Sometimes none. It would be more trouble to set up a different payment scheme than we'd gain. Even the family plan is the same whether you have
two or six."

  "Ah, I love a bargain!" Gordon said. "We'll buy week cards and be right back."

  "If you want something cooked to order tell me and I'll get it started," the fellow offered. "You can pay after it comes up. If it's not on the board," he said waving at the three big screens behind him, "it's a special order, but still cheaper than a la carte."

  Gordon considered the board critically. "I'll have Grandmother's meatloaf with candied yams, the corn bread and sautéed spinach with bacon and onions, as well as the peanut butter pie."

  "Anything to drink?"

  "Do you have a mug suitable for Derf?"

  "Of course," the fellow said, looking hurt.

  "Then coffee is fine. And whatever my daughter wants," Gordon inclined his head to Lee.

  To the fellow's credit he only blinked twice before looking at Lee expectantly.

  "A Slim King Jim," she had no idea what that was, but she loved the cute names, "the fries, the same pie as Gordon," Lee decided, "and coffee."

  "Coming right up," the fellow promised. If he entered it into their system it wasn't visible. Maybe they had voice recognition, but that usually had a feedback screen to double check.

  They went back and bought the week cards. A fellow grabbed a quarter kilo hamburger and salad off the auto buffet and it looked decent, but bite size for Gordon. He'd probably order six of seven of them. But it was still promising.

  Their stuff came pretty fast even figuring the time to buy cards. Gordon's on two trays. He had what looked like half a meatloaf, maybe three kilos with gravy, with a serving bowl of spinach. On the other tray the yams had raisins and cinnamon, Lee could smell. The corn bread had little flecks of something in it and kernel corn. Gordon looked pleased, but he asked, "Did you forget the pie?"

  "No sir. If I give it to you now the ice cream will melt. You do want ice cream don't you?"

  "Ah, my error. You have everything under control, carry on."

  Lee found out a Slim King Jim was a half loaf of Italian bread slit and grilled, with about two centimeters of fried honey ham dripping with cheese and an interesting sauce. The fries were much better than any shipboard fries.