I was impressed.
The exercise room was full of frightening-looking torture equipment as these facilities always are. The recreation room was bare. I could have it fitted out however I wished. I considered asking for a ping-pong table. The master suite, which ran the entire width, but not length, of the module, had five rooms and a bathroom. Behind it, I was told, was the ibic. The rest of the rooms were empty.
We moved to the command module. Like Hermes’ ship, this one travelled backwards. In other words, although it looked, to my eyes, as if the command module should be at the front, it was actually at the back and the engines pulled the ship along instead of pushing it. This meant that the controls were at the rear of the ship and the pilot had his back to the direction of travel. As there was no sense of movement and there were no windows, it didn’t matter for practical purposes but it felt wrong to me.
Hermes was in his element. He leapt into the pilot’s chair and immediately scanned the control panels. After a quick glance he swung round crossly.
“I cannot understand any of this,” he complained.
I looked at the panels and laughed. “That’s because they’re in English.”
He pulled a face. “Am I going to have to learn your barbaric language?”
“No,” Madam Wispwilliss said with a smile. She pressed some buttons and the English was replaced by Capellan squiggles. “Normally the ibic would do it.”
“I was wondering about that,” I said. “I’d expected to have spoken to it by now.”
“It’s on stand-by. We don’t bring it up to full power until the ship is complete. As it controls everything in the ship it’s simpler to leave it dormant until everything’s ready.”
“The layout of the controls has improved a bit,” Hermes said.
“Well it has been three hundred years,” Madam Wispwilliss said with a grin. “Time doesn’t stand still, you know. We’ll send someone with you for the test flights to help you get familiar with the controls.”
We dragged Hermes away and returned to the main hall.
“Well, Sir MacAdam, what are your impressions of your new ship,” Madam Wispwilliss asked.
“I’m impressed, over-awed and disappointed. I’m impressed because it’s beautiful, spacious and superbly equipped. I would have to think long and hard to find of anything you’ve missed. The quality of workmanship is impressive, too. Everything seems to be superbly designed and built to the highest standards… exactly as one would expect from a company with your reputation.
“I’m awestruck for much the same reason. It’s so well designed and so well built that I’m a bit overwhelmed. I’m disappointed because I’m an idiot. I had this picture in my head of stepping onto something like a luxury ocean-going yacht on my world; full of polished wood and gleaming brass. Daft, of course, because your policy of leaving it bare until I decide what I want is eminently sensible and my expectations were unrealistic. It leaves me with a little problem, though, for I’ve no idea how to design the interior of a space-ship.”
There was polite laughter from the group.
“We’ll lend you a portable display with lots of ideas on what you can do,” Madam Wispwilliss said. “And you can contact our Head of Design at any time if you have questions.”
“I have a lot of information about Earth stored on my ibic,” Hermes said. “I’m sure there must be some about designing interiors. I could download it onto the display if you like.”
“Would it be possible to retain it when you’re finished?” a being asked. “We’re always on the look-out for new ideas.”
Hermes had no problem with that.
“Is there anything else you’d like to see?” Madam Wispwilliss asked.
I looked at Hermes who shook his head. “No thanks. We can explore the nooks and crannies later.”
“We’ll have to brief you on the weapons systems but we can do that at a later date,” Madam Wispwilliss said.
I met Sir Simpission in his office. It was grand and imposing and suited him perfectly.
“How d’you like your ship, my boy?” he said.
“I don’t think there are adequate words to express my gratitude and appreciation, Sir Simpission. When the Lottery was explained to me, it was mentioned that the prize was one no rational sentient being could refuse. At the time I didn’t believe it… I do now.”
His laughter boomed.
“We build these ships as adverts,” he said more seriously. “The idea is that, as the Lottery Winner tours the galaxy, the ship gets as much publicity as he does and enhances the name of Zofi-Brennan Intergalactic as the premier choice for spaceships.” He frowned. “That’s the theory, at least. Unfortunately the reality has been slightly different.”
“I’d heard. As I understood it, there’s a flaw in the application of the theory.”
“Flaw.”
“You donate a very grand and luxurious ship but no-one supplies the wherewithal to run it. Most Winners, I believe, are a bit like me; ordinary beings from ordinary planets. We don’t have the money to run a spaceship.”
“Is that the case with you?”
“No. I came to an, er, arrangement with the Commission.”
He looked at me shrewdly. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me any more than you already have.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve attended the President’s lunch for the previous two Winners. Last time the Winner was so overwhelmed by the occasion that he stared at his plate all meal, ate nothing and didn’t say a word. The time before, the Winner was borderline psychotic and harangued the President with grandiose plans for becoming Emperor of the Universe or some-such. He nearly had to be physically restrained. You don’t have any plans in that direction?”
I pretended to consider the matter. “I don’t think so. Being Emperor sounds like too much work and dangerous, too.”
His laughter boomed again.
“That’s probably just as well. I have a feeling you might just succeed if you set your mind to it.”
“Rest assured. I have no plans in that direction. In fact I’ve no plans beyond surviving the next few weeks.”
“Contact me. The invitation stands. Margee and I would be delighted to have you. And if you ever need a job…”
“Thank you, Sir. You honour me more than I deserve.”
He escorted me from his office with an exhortation not to forget. All the way back I couldn’t get over the fact that the owner of the Galaxy’s largest spaceship manufacturer had just head-hunted a man who didn’t know spaceships existed a week ago.
Chapter 12
I managed about half an hour with Ziggy and Stardust before it was time to get ready for this evening’s great publicity adventure. They seemed a bit lethargic but I couldn’t blame them. They’d been cooped up in a single room for a week. I wouldn’t feel too happy if it happened to me; which it would have done if Sir Inner-Piety had had his way. Flerrionna or someone was looking after them for they had food and water and their litter tray was clean. I left them reluctantly. They were my only connection with home.
Sir Hlawch was to be my mentor tonight. He assured me that he’d spoken to the restaurant owner personally and made my wishes known. He also confirmed that the arrangements for the next day would be as I suggested. The hospital were more than happy that six of my ‘consorts’ were to accompany me. He gave me draft speeches to read and said he’d brief me fully in the morning. We examined my wardrobe and selected suitable attire. It was all most amicable and a very pleasant change from yesterday.
My escort tonight was to be Jarmasin Yongsam, a darkly exotic girl from one of the outer systems in the Capellan Theocracy. She’d looked vaguely oriental on the presentation and I was hoping she’d be as beautiful in the flesh as Cherevine had been.
I was very surprised when Barbita escorted her in.
“My new job,” she said with a smile.
“Congratulations. I assume it’s a promotion.”
“Absolutely. May I p
resent Madam Jarmasin Yongsam from Chongyeowsin on Our Land. Jarmasin, may I present Sir Crawford MacAdam from Edinburgh on Earth.”
Jarmasin was tiny. Her head barely reached my chin. Like Cherevine, though, she was more attractive in the flesh than on the display pad. Her skin was… I suppose café au lait was the closest, but darker. Her hair was deep brown, almost black, and cut short to frame her elfin face. Her eyes were dark green and attractively slanted which gave her an oriental appearance. She was wearing something that reminded me of a sari in that it seemed to consist of a single piece of gossamer cloth, dyed in a complex pattern of blues and greens and golds and draped artistically around her, covering her legs but leaving her arms bare. She stepped forward. Whether it was a custom on her world, or she’d been told about my strange custom of shaking hands, I don’t know but, she extended one delicate hand. On sudden impulse, I didn’t shake it but lifted it gently and kissed her knuckles. Her hand seemed tiny in mine.
“I am delighted to meet you Jarmasin,” I murmured. “You are even more beautiful than your image.”
As I straightened, I caught her eye and started. Her head was slightly tilted to one side and she was looking up at me from under long lashes. In her eyes was a look of pure lust. I felt myself react and swallowed hastily.
“And I am enchanted to meet you, Crawford. I’ve heard much about you and have been looking forward to this encounter. Your image doesn’t do you justice, either, though you look good on trivee.” Her voice was high and husky.
“Then I have no secrets from you.”
“Oh, you have some. Cherevine was very coy.”
Good God. We’d barely been introduced and we were flirting.
“I like your dress,” I said to change the subject.
“Barbita and I thought it appropriate. It is in the style a girl would wear on her wedding night on my world.”
I nearly choked. Barbita was grinning fit to burst and Sir Hlawch was trying, unsuccessfully, to hide a smile. I had the feeling I’d been set up.
“It’s enchanting… and very appropriate.” If they wanted to play games…
Jarmasin giggled. Sir Hlawch cleared his throat.
“It’s time we were leaving.”
“Are you accompanying us, Sir Hlawch.”
“Only to ensure that things have been organised as agreed.”
“You’ll be most welcome.” He looked genuinely surprised but pleased.
The protectors were waiting outside the door and fell into step behind us. A few beings were in the reception hall to see us. Clearly the novelty of having the Lottery Winner as a guest had worn off quickly. In the car I picked up on one of these incongruous thoughts that kept occurring to me.
“Jarmasin, when you heard the name of my planet, what did you hear?”
She looked at me oddly. “Earth.”
“Now we’ve proved that the translators work both ways, find a synonym.”
“Dirt.”
“Sir Hlawch, did both these sound the same to you?”
“Yes.”
“Is there a point to this,” Jarmasin asked.
“Curiosity, that's all. You see the name for my planet is also the word for dirt or mud or soil in my language. When Barbita named your planet I heard ‘territory that belongs to us’ and Cherevine’s translated as ‘home’. This planet’s name doesn’t have a meaning in my language so I suspect I’m hearing it in Capellan. Sir Hlawch would you indulge me and say the name of this planet?”
He did. I watched his lips closely. They seemed to mirror the sounds. I asked Jarmasin to do the same. Her lips were much nicer to watch but they also mirrored the sounds.
“I thought so. Funny how some species gave their planet a comforting name like ‘Our Home’ or ‘This Place’ and others don’t.”
“You have a very strange mind, Sir Crawford,” Hlawch said, shaking his head.
“So I’ve been told. What’s your home like, Jarmasin?”
“Like? Well, it’s like… home.” She was a bit taken aback.
“I mean, do you live in a city or in the country? Do you drive cars like these? Do you have a large family or a small one?”
Our Land was dry and dusty. It was further away from a hotter sun than Earth and had less open water and more ice. Her ancestors had been nomads, driving their herds between fertile areas where they’d stop for enough time to plant and reap crops before moving on. The nomadic days were long gone but their legacy was still in evidence. Jarmasin had an extended family; parents, children, grandparents, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews and cousins tending to live close by and support each other. Their social organisation reflected this, her family owing loyalty to a larger group and the larger group belonging to a still larger one.
“To my ears, it sounds very romantic,” I said, “though I’m sure the reality is much different.”
She laughed. “It seems natural to me but, since coming here, I’ve learned that our social set-up is actually quite complicated and quite unusual.”
“I suspect the simplicity of other systems is an illusion. If you were to dig beneath the surface, you’d find they were equally complicated. Sentient beings seem to have an inherent talent for making things as difficult as possible for themselves which is odd when you consider that most species have probably spent most of their history struggling to survive.”
“That is a very profound point,” Sir Hlawch said thoughtfully.
“It is,” Jarmasin agreed, “and I’m baffled.”
“Oh?”
“Here we are, dressed to the nines and on our way to a very public dinner after which…. And you’re discussing the names of planets and the complexity of social organisations.”
“What would you like me to talk about?” I said.
“I don’t know. The weather. The latest trivee show. The newest singer. Trivia. Social conversation.”
I winked at Sir Hlawch. “Let me see. Trivee; never seen it. Singers; I saw one male and one female and a group at the Presentation rehearsals. None of them impressed me. I might do better on TV. David Attenborough has a new nature programme and the photography’s stunning. Joe and the Bandits are the up-and-coming band. Their new single is really good… No?”
“What are you blethering about?” Jarmasin said.
Hlawch was smiling. “I think, Madam Yongsam,” he said gently, “Sir MacAdam is pulling your leg. He’s reminding you that he comes from a planet we would regard as very primitive where they don’t have trivee and know nothing of the Galaxy.”
“Oh.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”
“I’m not offended. Sir Hlawch is right. My planet is very primitive by your standards.”
“The planet may be but the inhabitants are not,” Hlawch said. “I believe we’re almost there.”
We were. The car turned into a side street and slowed to a halt. As at the Kitchen of the Gods, the crowds had gathered to see our arrival. Our protectors slipped out professionally and flanked the door as I, at Hlawch’s insistence, stepped out first. Just as before, I handed Jarmasin out before acknowledging the crowd. I tried to act like a star. Jarmasin seemed a bit overwhelmed. Her wave was tentative and her eyes were big. After a suitable time, I urged her toward the restaurant. Near the door I noticed a group of beings with placards. Unlike the rest of the mob, they didn’t look pleased to see us and I detected boos and insults among the otherwise friendly comments.
The restaurateur, a barrel-chested being with pale green skin, spiky hair and arms and legs that were too short, greeted us formally but enthusiastically. I saw Hlawch hovering in the background and looked at him enquiringly. He smiled and nodded so I assumed he meant that arrangements were as specified. I told the restaurateur how much I was looking forward to sampling his cuisine as his reputation was high. He seemed delighted. In truth, I think my very presence, after yesterday’s events, was enough to guarantee him full bookings for quite some time.
As we entered the dining
room, the patrons stood and applauded. I was momentarily taken aback but recovered and did my smiling and waving act. I was becoming quite good at it and the irrelevant thought occurred that movie stars and the like must be the same and have a ‘smile and wave at the public’ act which they performed on occasions like this. Jarmasin seemed even more overawed. I hoped it wasn’t going to affect her ability to perform, either now or later.
As the previous night, our table was in the centre and highly decorated. The restaurant specialised in cuisine from the second most powerful system in the Theocracy so I assumed the decoration reflected this. We took our seats gracefully and mine host hurried over to explain the menu. Tonight we were to experience the culinary diversity of Arghcharatka adapted, of course, to our metabolic needs. It sounded like a tall order and I said I was impressed already.
The meal, while not in the same league as the Kitchen of the Gods, had clearly had a lot of effort put into it. Some of it I didn’t particularly like but I ate it anyway with every appearance of enjoyment. I noticed Jarmasin was pushing her food around the plate.
“Eat it,” I said quietly but firmly. “These people are proud of their food and have gone to a lot of trouble for us. It doesn’t matter if you don’t like it. It won’t kill you. Remember you’re representing the Lottery and you’re being watched. If it’s any consolation, I don’t like it either.”
“But you seemed to enjoy it.”
“I’m a good actor. Now, eat.”
She did and did her best to appear to enjoy it.
I was a bit concerned. Last night had started off badly and improved as it went on. Cherevine had not been overwhelmed by all the brouhaha and had risen to the occasion. Even if I hadn’t realised it at the time, our mutual experience brought us together as a result of which the sex had been outstanding. Tonight seemed exactly the opposite. Jarmasin and I had seemed to connect instantly but the glare of public attention was making her withdraw. If I’d been an experienced seducer, I might have known what to do but I wasn’t so I fretted quietly.
I Won A Spaceship Page 26