Stepping Up

by Robert Culp

  Rickerback has traded his black and white suit for a light blue shirt and a red bow tie with matching suspenders. While he readies the paperwork prepared for me, Sherri sends me a textCom: All he might need would be a big red shoes and a bulb nose. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. He says “excellent” more times than I can count. If he really is who his ego wall says, he must be a pretty good attorney.

  Looking up from his holoCom, he says with a grin, “So I stayed up late—looks like Miss Watson did too—and put the framework for the financial vehicle together.” Sherri shoots him a glare that would wither a sequoia. “I should be able to finish it out with the details and get it to you within a few hours.”

  “Very good, sir. And your retainer?” I ask.

  “I found a mutual fund that is currently returning about fifteen percent annually. That’s more than enough to cover my end and I’ll reinvest the difference. And timely withdrawals will cover Miss Sinnair’s expenses. Provided the market remains healthy, estimates are she’s good for at least forty years. And honestly, that could be the rest of her natural life.”

  “Great, I’ll look you up the next time I’m on Goliath.”

  “I hope you have a safe journey, ladies.” We shake hands and head back to the cabstand.

  On the way down I can’t help needling Sherri, “‘Looks like Miss Watson did too,’” I mimic.

  “Zip it, you,” she says with a scowl.

  We still have some time to kill. I don’t want to leave until we get all the documents from Rickerback. So we knock about town, hitting a few boutiques, coffee shops and just window-shopping in general. The certifications and documentation Rickerback talked about appear in my perCom about an hour later, so we return to the launch. The courier from the incinerator is waiting. He hands me a box; I hand him five hundred credits. “Keep the difference.” After all is said and done, there’s not a lot to a person. I am holding the remains of an adult human male with one hand. I still have trouble wrapping my head around that. I presume his ashes (“cremains” the guy called them) were swept out before the tube was destroyed. But the reality of it is, there is probably some plastic mixed in with him.

  Sherri preps the launch. I sit in the seat, holding Mack’s ashes in my hands. I can’t…I can’t carry him back to the ship like that. I put the box containing his ashes into the luggage bin, securing it between our two overnight bags. I settle back into the seat, don my helmet, fasten the belts, and give Sherri a thumbs-up.

  “Y’alright?” Sherri asks as the launch cuts through the sky. She must have seen me wipe away the tear.

  “I will be.” I look at her as I settle into my seat. I don’t want to talk about Mack. “Still mad at me?”

  She looks quizzically at me, “Oh, the shower!” She chuckles. “No, of course not. In hindsight, it was pretty funny, borderline hilarious. I wish I’d thought of it, but you may want to learn to sleep with one eye open. I think the world of you, but I have a reputation to protect.”

  Soon, we hear Aria’s voice: “Launch 4, welcome home. You are clear for ingress to small craft bay. Report to your Transit stations ASAP. Night Searcher Transitions in thirty minutes.”

  Holy crap! I ask Sherri, “Can you stash my bag and Mack’s ashes? I’ll collect them from you later, but I have to high-tail it to Engineering.”

  “No problem. I’m on deck D, 12-B. I’ll take care of your bags and…the other thing.”

  Once off the launch, I literally run to Engineering. Gorb hands me my helmet as I skid into the control cell. A flight helmet is not exactly a fitting substitute. Ginny is standing at the board. She looks at me, and I wonder if I looked that terrified on my first Transit. I double check the readouts and ask, “What is your report?”

  “Ma’am, I see a green board.” I smile and give her a thumbs-up. “I concur, but who else needs to know?” Déjà vu. It’s much more fun from this side though.

  “Bridge, Engineering. You are green for Transit,” she reports.

  “Engineering, Bridge. Roger that.” At the appropriate time, Night Searcher’s engines roar, and the ship is off. The plan is we will stop at Atlas to pick up two passengers, and then move on to the Neptune clusters. Oddly enough, it’s good to be back aboard. Once the checks are done, I announce, “I’m going to the LEO. I’ll need to speak with each of you in turn. I don’t have a preference on who is first. Flip a coin; arm wrestle; just figure it out.”

  When I get to the LEO, I start a kettle for tea and wait for whoever gets there first. It’s Gorb. “Hey, buddy!” I say to him. “Any problems while I was away? I brought you something.” I hold out a half-pound block of chocolate. “You’ll need to whack it with something to break it. If you try to bite off a piece, you’ll hurt your teeth. Try not to eat it all at one time.”

  “Thank you, Shownya!!! I mished you too!! Big Block Candy!! B-b-but Doc says I can’t have more than one hundred grams per day. Is she wrong?? Is she??”

  “Well, I’m not going to argue with a trained medical professional. I’ll be right back.” I take the chocolate back from him and carry it and a clean coffee cup to a workbench. I protect it with a rag, hoping the cellophane doesn’t tear, and smack the covered block with a wrench a few times. Once it’s in roughly bite-sized pieces, I pour some (about an ounce) into the cup and carry it back to him. The rest, I wrap up and keep in my desk drawer to dole out later. “This should keep the doc happy,” I tell Gorb when I hand him the cup.

  “Oh, thank you, Shownya...I love you!! Can I do something for you now? ‘Gorb always helps;’ everyone says so!”

  “So it must be true. You’re welcome, Gorb, I love you, too. Actually, can you check the door actuators for the small craft bay airlock? The deck boss says they aren’t operating smoothly and they may just need lubricating and filing.”

  “I already done that, Shownya. The actuator piston had warped. You need to inspect it, though. The Lead Engineer must certify all repairs that affect the ship’s integrity.”

  “You are too far ahead for me sometimes. Well, when you finish with that brace you were working on...” I’ll give him something else to work on. I’ll hand Ginny something when she gets here. I’ll also handle something. On a ship this size, something is always broken. “Gorb, did you see this fault report on maneuver drive four inboard? The thermal shield is failing. Shouldn’t that have been fixed on our last maintenance overhaul? We can take care of that in the morning, though. Give it some more time to cool down.”

  “I got it, Shownya. I’ll get on it tomorrow. Right now, I have a little welding to finish.”

  He skips out; I return to the status reports, making note of what’s marked finished that needs inspection. There’s a knock on my door. “Enter,” I say, not looking up until I finish the paragraph I’m reading.

  A young engineer reports to me. She looks to be about twenty-four, and just out of tech school. “Hello, ma’am. My name is Virginia Berry. I have been assigned to you by order of the Captain. I know Night Searcher’s drives. I have been in cold sleep for about six months, so I just have to get used to being awake. I hope I can do a good job for you.” She looks like she’s afraid I’m going to shoot her.

  “I’m sure you will. Please have a seat. Tea?” The kettle is ready now, and I pour myself a cup, poised to pour a second.

  “Yes, ma’am, thank you.”

  I pour the second cup and set it on the desk. I gesture to milk and sugar and she declines. I sit and wait for her personnel file to display. “Now, let’s see what the database has to say about you. One second…ah, there you are.” My holoCom illuminates with her Night Searcher past. She looks doubly nervous now. It seems there was an engine mishap about ten months ago. No deaths, two serious injuries and one destroyed maneuver unit. Following an investigation, she was demoted to mechanic, and transferred out of engines, to Ship’s Systems other than Propulsion. After a quick retrain by Mack, she was on a probationary status and allowed to remain on the crew. But when the ship came to Tammuz
, she was sent into TMOD “until and unless absolutely needed.” Whatever precipitated that decision isn’t documented. That explains why I haven’t seen her. It doesn’t explain why I was hired rather than keeping her. I’ll have to ask around about that. “Welcome to the department. Or, welcome back. Don’t you prefer ‘Ginny’?”

  “If that’s okay with you, ma’am.”

  “It’s your name. I’ll call you ‘Dixie’ or ‘Bruce’ if you want. Sadly, it falls to me to be the bearer of bad news. If you haven’t been told: Mack Sinnair has died.” She nods. She probably heard it in medical. “I’ve skimmed what happened before; I’ll digest it later. That was before my time aboard, much less as department head.” I lean back in my chair, and she visibly relaxes. “So you start with a clean slate as far as I’m concerned. Hear this now, and believe it at your leisure: you aren’t being punished, but to me it’s a question of seniority and confirmed ability. For the time being, you will be taking direction from Gorb. If that’s going to be a problem, now is the time to tell me.” She relaxes even more. I guess that’s not a problem. “Good. The starboard outboard maneuver drive suffered some damage recently. We have it patched and functional, but it isn’t pretty. That’s going to be your first task. Once it’s working, be sure you get the cables tucked away and conduits sealed. Get the panels that were damaged either repaired or fabricate replacements. For the mean time, I’m going to be developing a prototype Strike Armor. I’ll be available, but not close by. If you need help, go to Gorb first. If he can’t help you, then come to me. Have you any questions or concerns?”

  “No worries, ma’am. Gorb is my friend. I have worked with him. As long as I make him think he is helping, he is a walking computer.”

  “Excellent. And, so you know, I do answer to ‘ma’am,’ but I also answer to ‘Sonia.’ I’m sure you heard Mack’s philosophy; I adopted it because I like it: I’m easy to work with; I’m pretty tough to work for.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I mean, yes, Sonia, I mean…”

  “You had me at ‘yes.’ And, if you feel more comfortable, ‘Boss’ is also acceptable. Good cover on the engines pre-Transit, too. Now if there’s nothing else, get to work. We’ve both got a lot to do and a short time to do it in.”

  After she leaves, I find Gorb and fill him in on Ginny’s tasks for the near future. He nods.

  I tell him to call me if he needs me. “I’ve got a personal matter to attend to,” I add.

  “Okay, Shownya.” He turns back to his welding. “Tell Dr. Avi Gorb says ‘Hi.’ Hee hee. Shownya thinks she has a secret.” He snickers as he lowers the mask. I just smile. Nobody knows you like your friends.

  I call Avi’s perCom, but he doesn’t answer. I leave a message: “Hey, I’m back aboard. Give me a call, and we’ll get a drink or something.”

  In the meantime, I go by Sherri’s stateroom. She isn’t there, but her roommate points out my bag and Mack’s box. I take them to my stateroom. Her room isn’t much bigger than mine; and she has to share? Aria or Malcolm must have really gone the extra step for me. I’m heading to inspect the door actuators for the Ship’s Boat deck when my perCom beeps. It’s Avi: “Hey, Sonia. I’ve been down inspecting TMODs. Join me for a drink tonight?”

  “You know I will. Our sofa about 1830?”

  “Excellent. I’ll see you there.”

  That actually gives me enough time to check the actuators. When I inspect the work, I find welds a master craftsman would love to call his own. I have to look at the others to verify they’ve been serviced. Gorb is remarkable.

  As usual, Avi is in the lounge before I get there. He stands as I approach. I run the last two yards and jump into his arms, hugging him fiercely. I kiss him, breaking long enough to say, “I missed you.” I start to say more, but he’s pulled my mouth back to his. “I’m hungry,” I tell him when we pause to breathe. “Have you eaten yet?” I didn’t think he’d want to play tonsil-hockey in the chow hall or I’d have met him there.

  “No, and I saw Rison on the menu. Let’s go.” We adjourn to the chow hall. We choke down a pair of flank steaks with potatoes and trimmings then come back to the lounge. Another couple is on our couch. I puff up, ready to make a scene. What’s the point in being a department head if you can’t throw your weight around? Avi puts his hand on my arm, “It’s not that big a deal. Over here, I have something to give you.” He pulls a small box out of his pocket. Oh my! Opening it, he presents me with a ring. It’s unusual. It isn’t metal, so I don’t wobble much. It’s stone. But it wasn’t cut or stamped out. I can see the grain of the rock. It’s been bent or rolled into shape. It has an engraving on it in a script I don’t recognize. It’s a simple stone band, no jewels, just the writing.

  “What does it say?”

  “It’s ancient Arean. It’s a pretty idiom-heavy language, but the closest translation is ‘You Grow Closer To My Heart.’ I saw it in one of the stores on Goliath and thought of you. You weren’t the only person to go planetside, y’know.”

  My heart is pounding inside my chest. Tears stream down my cheeks. I slip it on my left ring finger. Knowing while I do that it will fit perfectly. And it does. We’re standing beside a view port, the stars streaming by us. I jump up, my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. He staggers for a millisecond but maintains his balance by putting his hands on my backside to help manage my weight. He lowers me onto the windowsill. I guess that makes sense, but I don’t want to let him go yet. My ankles pull him in tighter to me.

  With my chin on his shoulder I say, “So does this mean we’re engaged to consider talking about thinking of future possibilities?” That ought to get his head spinning.

  “Uh…that is...er...uh...yeah, I think. I don’t know...wait, what?” I pull back to look him in the eyes again.

  “You are so adorable when you’re befuddled.” We cuddle in the lounge for a while. But we both have to get some rest. So we each go to our own stateroom. I take a shower and go to bed.

  At 0300, I’m awakened by the sounds of intruder claxons that are as annoying as they are deafening. Aria is on every holoCom, giving orders. I am detailed a pair of Troopers to Engineering. Their purpose is to assist me in keeping anyone from tampering with the engines. I ignore my jumpsuit and pull my APE suit on, sealing everything but the helmet. I have my pistol belt in one hand, a bag of shotgun ammunition in the other, and my shotgun slung over my shoulder. I’ve been hanging around Sherri too much. I didn’t have the time to worry about such niceties as undergarments I wasn’t already wearing.

  When I get to Engineering, I report to Aria and verify loads in my spare magazines. I perform a quick functions check on each weapon and put a round in each chamber. My pistol goes back in its holster, my shotgun across my back. Ginny calls me with an update. She’s going to be kicking ass and taking names on the Ship’s Boat deck. The other engineering personnel check in with their locations.

  Gorb is already here. His breathing is shallow, and his eyes are darting all over the place. He’s terrified. He already has access locks on the iris valves and doors. With those in place, no one aside from Captain Prowse, Aria, Gorb, or me can get into engineering without an access code. Following ship protocols, we both seal our APE suits. The ship is liable to be depressurized at any time.

  There is a ring from the outer doorbell. “Sonia! Open up. It’s Freddie and Stan.” I level my shotgun at the door. I stand off to one side and signal Gorb to dilate the iris valve. If I see anything other than Freddie and Stan, I’m prepared to empty my weapon at it. The plasteel petals of the door scrape against each other as the valve dilates. I see two familiar looking men in the corridor. They are alone.

  “Lower the muzzle, squatter,” Freddie growls, “it’s just us.” Freddie and Stan come in, and Gorb closes the door behind them. These guys would be truly massive in their armor, but are still pretty intimidating in only the MUTES II armor. The Multi-Use Tactical Environment System Mark II allows the user to survive ballistic impact from a fifty-gram projectil
e traveling at roughly one kilometer per second. He won’t be happy, but he’ll be alive. It’s not Strike Armor; but it’s better than what Gorb or I have. They have riot shotguns with grenade launchers as their primary weapons. I’d feel safer from the enemy if they were wearing Strike Armor and packing fusion weapons, but those would potentially destroy our ship as well.

  Stan keeps checking the mobile scanner he holds. It beeps in his hand. He adjusts the sensitivity. Soon he detects objects in the corridor leading to the maneuver drives. “Uh, oh,” says Stan. “I wonder where they came from? Wake up, Fredso, three bandits inbound.” The signals are moving slowly but steadily down the corridor towards the maneuver drive room entrance. And, of course, we’re on the most direct route.

  Freddie says, “Okay, this is what’s gonna happen: Gorbo, you’re gonna open the iris valve, and we’re gonna carry two gas grenades into the corridor, and possibly follow that up with some small arms fire. Got it? Once we are through the door, close it. So have you checked the seal on your APE suits?”

  “I’d be lying if I said I was in complete agreement with that plan. I hope you’ve grown comfortable with the enhanced sighting systems you’ve been given. We’ll open the valve far enough to toss the grenades, but no more—about eighteen inches, maximum. Once we’ve evaluated any affect, then we open the iris if needed, and you go through shooting. Ready?” Once they signal they are prepared, Gorb opens the valve no more than half a yard.