Stealing Endeavour: Book 1 of the Forever Endeavour, Amen Trilogy

by Martin Tays

  Customs actually went by surprisingly quickly. Well, no wonder… she had pretty much nothing of value to bring through. The bored customs official asked a few perfunctory questions, took in her worn shipsuit and carryall, and waved her past. Sandar didn’t know whether to be thankful or insulted.

  Once out on the concourse of the station, she was frankly at a loss as to where to go. She had never been to Haven and knew nothing about it past the standard fare. Most of the original Exploratory Corp work had been done out of Alpha Centauri, and the infrastructure, though rickety and unused, was still in place. If she couldn’t find her mysterious benefactor she thought that maybe she’d be able to con — that is, to persuade ― someone to give her a grant and allow her to continue searching.

  After all, it’s not as if the equipment was being used for anything else at the moment.

  There was a muted and polite ‘ping’ from the air near her. A soft asexual voice, audible to her alone, spoke in her ear. “Your pardon, sir or madam. Are you Sandra Brillerman?”

  Sandar sighed. “’Sandar’. Not ‘dra’, ‘dar’. Please restate.”

  “Your pardon, sir or madam. I restate question: are you Sandra BrillARman?” It rolled the middle syllable like a cheesy Spanish bit actor.

  “Were you aware that you’re an idiot?”

  “One moment, please… thank you for waiting, answer follows: No.”

  She groaned in frustration. “What!?”

  “I repeat answer: No.”

  She swung around, then stopped herself. It was hard to get angry at a disembodied voice. However, as she was discovering, it was not impossible. “Jesus wept, you… I meant, what do you want?”

  “Question repeats: are you Sand…”

  “Yes, you schmuck. I don’t believe this… I’m arguing with a paging system.”

  Unfortunately, this last was said just as a fellow traveler was walking by. He grinned. “Bet you’re losing, too.”

  “Crap. He’s right.” She hesitated, then spoke to the pager system in a quieter tone of voice. “Okay, yes, fine. I’m SandAR Brillerman. What do you want?”

  “I have a message for Sandra Brillarman.”

  “Close enough!” She threw her hands up in frustration. “That’s me. Who is this message from?”

  “Message was posted anonymously.”

  “Oh, great. I have a secret admirer.” She replied angrily. “So. What does it say?”

  “Message follows: Please meet party at Bloom’s. Reservations have been made there in your name. Please follow this cue…” An image of a brilliantly green and rapidly flashing globe appeared in front of her eyes, making her recoil slightly. “… to your party.”

  “Turn it down!”

  “I’m sorry. Please restate request.”

  “Mute the damn cue! It’s going to give me a seizure!” The globe obligingly toned down in brightness and stopped flashing. “Better.”

  “Is there any other was in which I can assist you this evening, sir or madam?”

  “You can piss off.”

  “Please restate request.”

  “Go away.”

  “Thank you, sir or madam. Have a pleasant evening.” There was another ping.

  Sandar turned toward the waiting cue and sighed. “Okay, sport, let’s go.” The cue obligingly moved off down the passageway, invisible to all but her. It paused about ten meters away, halfway through the chest of a tall buxom blond. It made her anatomy look pretty improbable. Sandar stared, blinked twice, then shook her head and moved off through the crowd, following the cue tiredly.

  The restaurant was nice. Very nice. Extremely very nice. And expensive ― expensive enough to have a real human maitre’d at the door, there to ward off the riff-raff.

  Sandar was feeling very riff-raffish as he took in her clothes, carryall and general disheveled appearance. He sniffed discreetly. In the anteroom behind him the bobbing green cue blinked twice in recognition of a job well done and vanished, gone to wherever it is green cue balls hang out between jobs.

  The maitre’d turned toward her. “Is there some way in which I may assist you, madam?”

  Sandar stared toward where the cue had been, shook her head and turned back at the well dressed man. “Well, first off.” She said in reply. “Thank you for recognizing that I am, in fact, either one or the other.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Sorry. I apparently have a reservation.” She gave him her name.

  “Indeed?” He cocked an eyebrow, ever so slightly, at her, and turned to his podium. He poked at the reservation index, invisible to her, that hung above it. His eyes widened, again ever so slightly, and he turned back to her.

  The expression on his face had changed entirely. “Ms. Brillerman, I am so very sorry you had to wait. Your party is already here.” He gestured toward her bag. “May we hold your luggage for you while you dine?”

  “Um… ‘kay.” Sandar started to hand over the bag, then stopped. “No, wait, no. Actually, I’d rather keep it with me.”

  He nodded. “As the madam wishes.” Inclining his head, the very picture of graciousness, he clapped his hands sharply. An extremely attractive raven haired woman, clad as the maitre’d in the restaurant’s colors of red and silver, appeared by his side. Sandar was mildly surprised that there had been no puff of smoke.

  “Collette,” he said, gesturing at the surprised Sandar, “… please escort Ms. Brillerman to her party.”

  “I would be honored to. This way, please, Ms. Brillerman.” She indicated Sandar’s carryall. “May I take that for you?”

  “You guys sure like luggage, don’t you?” Sandar clutched her bag to her in response. “No. I’m good. Thanks. Collette.”

  Collette nodded, unperturbed. “As the madam wishes.” She moved off regally.

  “Sweet Jesus. I’m being escorted by the Queen.” Collette stopped and turned, looking at her unperturbedly. “No, a queen would have had my head by now, wouldn’t she?”

  A small and perfectly proportioned smile. “As the madam says.” The… waitress? Hostess? Escort? Escort, then, held her hand out and gestured out across the floor of the restaurant.

  Sandar looked back at the maitre’d, who simply shrugged, and followed Collette to the table. It was a long walk. The tables were well secluded, far enough that their individual privacy fields didn’t start interfering with each other. The result — along with the multitude of plant life, waterfalls and disturbingly lifelike statues — made it difficult to even see fellow diners, much less hear them.

  Collette finally stopped near the back of the dining area and gestured graciously toward a table. Sandar looked past her at the lone occupant, an older woman.

  No, she corrected herself, it was a woman who looked older. Sandar had no idea how old the woman really was, but she looked biologically about fifty. It made Sandar curious. Why, in an age when anyone could look as young as they wished, had this woman chosen this appearance?

  Sandar was also surprised to discover that she found the look a lot more attractive that she’d ever thought. Something about the salt and pepper hair cut in that attractive but no-nonsense zero-g style popular with spacers pushed a button she didn’t even realize she had.

  Sandar looked away quickly and blushed.

  Collette pulled her chair out and spoke. “Please have a seat. Once you have decided what you wish to eat, just speak my name.”

  Sandar looked back at her as she sank into the chair. “Um. Yeah… I mean, yes, of course, I will. Thank you, Collette.” Smiling, Collette pushed her chair in and then walked… no, glided off. She shook her head and turned back to the table.

  Her tablemate leaned forward as Sandar looked over hesitantly. There was an intent look in the gray green eyes that looked deep into her own. “Okay. I want to hear it
.”

  Sandar blinked. “What?”

  “The signal. I want to hear it. Do you have it with you?” Sandar’s hand moved without conscious volition to touch the breast pocket of her shipsuit. “I take it that means ‘yes’.”

  She jerked her hand down quickly. “Who the hell are you?” She asked gruffly.

  There was a brief pause, then the older woman leaned back a bit and sighed. “Okay, sorry. Fair enough. I get a bit… focused.”

  “I noticed. Again, who are you? And why did you drag me into this…” She looked around, “… this incredibly beautiful and expensive restaurant that I’m sticking out in like a pig at a polka?”

  “It wasn’t my idea, actually. Not that I agree with you on the pig part, but I probably wouldn’t have met you here. It’s a bit… oh, never mind. Sorry, let’s start again.”

  “Fine. I’m Sandar Brillerman.”

  The older woman smiled. “I know.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “I’m Cath. Short for Cathleen ― which I hate ― Spindowski.” She grinned, ruefully.

  “Why? It’s pretty.”

  “Exactly. I was asked to meet you here by a… well, he’s not a mutual friend, you don’t know him. But he knows you. Or of you, at least, and he wanted me to hear your story.”

  “It’s not a very good one. Well, mainly not.” Sandar reached up again to her pocket and touched the outline of the datatab inside.

  Cath relaxed. “Okay, tell you what. Let’s get some grub. We’ll eat, then we’ll talk. Collette?” The girl appeared (out of curiosity, Sandar timed it) in three seconds.

  “Madam, and madam?” She smiled. It was a stunning smile. Sandar was momentarily distracted, until Cath spoke.

  “Tell you what, sweetie.” Cath said, utterly unmoved by the smile. “Why don’t you just bring us two of whatever it is you’re planning to eat tonight, and something appropriate to drink.”

  The girl tilted her head a bit and narrowed her eyes. Then she nodded and said “As the madam wishes. I shall endeavour not to disappoint.”

  “Thanks, bunches.”

  Sandar watched this, a bit surprised. She turned back to Cath with a questioning look on her face.

  The older woman smiled. “I’ve literally known that girl since the moment she was born. That’s close to two hundred years. She’s probably got the finest palate for food in the whole system. Trust me… there’s nothing you could have ordered that’ll be better than what she’s having.”

  Sure enough, when the food came only a minute or two later, it was quite probably the best thing Sandar had ever tasted. They both were served a beautiful piece of what appeared to be fish, but it was dark juicy meat that melted and burst with flavor when she put it into her mouth. She moaned, once, softly.

  Cath grinned. “See?”

  “Oh… oh, my. What is this?” She pointed down at her plate with her fork.

  “It’s… I think it’s… damn. Hang on.” She spoke to the air. “Collette? Question.”

  In a moment, Collette’s smooth contralto answered them. “Yes, madam? How may I assist you?”

  “You can start by not calling me madam. I’ve changed your diapers. And you were a late potty trainer, I might add.”

  There was a brief and surprising giggle, quickly cut off. Collette spoke again. Her voice sounded possibly less beautiful but certainly much more real. “All right. You win, Cath. What was your question?”

  Cath pointed at her plate with her fork. “Is this yellowtail?”

  “Indeed. Poached, and served with mango salsa.”

  “Fresh?”

  “Caught only this afternoon.”

  Sandar paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. She looked at it uncertainly. “This is… this is real?” She gingerly set the fork, with its delicious bite of real live dead fish, onto her plate. But before she could remove her hand Collette was there beside her, her hands folded neatly in front.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, madam…” she looked over at Cath, then knelt beside Sandar’s chair and spoke quietly. “Oh, hell, I really mean that. I’m so sorry. I’m just used to her and I didn’t think that you’d be coming in from Earth and…” She reached out and took the plate. “Why don’t I get you something a little more… I mean a little less…”

  Sandar held out her hand. “No. Wait.” Collette looked at her, surprised, then set the plate down as the slim scientist continued. “I was just… I’d never…” Sandar paused, then looked back up at the girl. “I think I’d like to finish it.”

  Collette set her hand on her shoulder and spoke quietly. “You’re certain?”

  “Yeah. I mean yes, thank you. You’re sweet.”

  “You think so? You should tell my Mother. She still thinks I’m a brat.”

  Sandar was about to protest when something clicked. She looked over at Cath, then back to the girl. Now that she was paying attention, the resemblance was striking.

  Collette looked over at Cath and grinned. “You know, she’s quick. And polite. You can keep this one… I approve.”

  Sandar, startled, shot her head around to look at Cath, then looked down at her plate, blushing furiously. Cath stared at her, looked down at her own plate, and mumbled “Um…”

  “Yeah.” Sandar replied.

  “Yeah. Oh… the signal!” Cath looked up quickly, awkwardness forgotten.

  Sandar started, then stuck her hand into her breast pocket and pulled out the datatab. Cath gestured for it, reaching out to carefully take it without touching Sandar’s hand. Sandar was both mildly disappointed and surprised that she felt so.

  Cath slotted the tab into the tabletop and turned to Collette. “Off with you. You’ve done enough damage, here.”

  Collette grinned. “Sure. Some day, you’ll thank me for it.”

  “Brat.”

  “Madam.” She curtsied daintily and was gone.

  Sandar stared at the retreating girl, then back to her host. Cath was cueing up the data to play, and the air around them was filled with those odd, atonal clicks that had kyboshed her career on Earth.

  After the first few clicks, Cath closed her eyes. By the time the recording ended, she had opened them again and was staring at Sandar in wonder.

  Sandar was startled to discover that Cath was holding her hand ― she had no idea when it had happened. Cath never noticed… she just looked at Sandar, cleared her throat, and asked “That was real, right? I mean, you really heard that?”

  Sandar nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

  “It’s not fake?”

  “I didn’t fake it, if that’s what you’re asking. Someone could have, sure, but…” She shrugged.

  “But why?”

  Sandar nodded. “Exactly. Why? What could anyone gain out of that?” She grimaced. “Certainly not job security, I’ll tell you that much.”

  “Yeah. I heard about that. Tough break, kid. Got you off Earth, though.” Cath looked down and finally realized she was clutching Sandar’s hand. She yanked her hand back quickly. “Um, sorry, sorry, I was just…”

  “S’okay. I didn’t mind.” Sandar realized that she was still hungry. She looked back at the piece of fish. Cautiously, she picked her fork up, bite still attached, and gingerly raised it to her mouth. After only a brief hesitation, she shut her eyes and ate it. After chewing and regretfully swallowing, she took a sip of what turned out to be some sort of wine. She spoke one word. “Wow.”

  Cath smiled. “Yeah. Nice, ain’t it? Sorry about the fish, it just never occurred to us…”

  Sandar shook her head. “It’s okay. I’m… I’m glad it happened. I probably never would have worked up the nerve to try it, otherwise.” She shrugged, uncomfortable. “Story of my life, really.”

  She looked up and met Cath’s eyes, the
n both looked away hurriedly. After an uncomfortable pause, she broke the silence. “So…” She sliced off another bit of the fish and put it in her mouth, speaking in a slightly muffled tone around it. “… so, um, it’s a signal, right? And you think it’s swell, and I think it’s swell, and that’s nice. Right?”

  “Right.”

  Sandar swallowed, then pointed at Cath with her fork. “So, again, who the hell are you? Why did you ― why did y’all, I guess ― bring me here, and why did you want to hear that?” The last while gesturing with the fork toward the datatab.

  Cath leaned forward. “Where do you think it come from?”

  Sandar hesitated, both at the change in subject and because of her own uncertainty on the matter. “I’m not completely sure, really.” She looked up. “Somewhere in Sagittarius, certainly.”

  Cath’s reply was amused. “You couldn’t be a little more specific?”

  Sandar shrugged. “I didn’t have a lot of time to figure it out, you know. But…”

  “But you think you know.”

  “Maybe. Very, very possibly. Ascella.”

  “The Archer’s Armpit, huh? That’s odd. That’s very odd.” The older woman sat back and looked over at Sandar speculatively. “Wouldn’t you say that was odd?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. Why?”

  Cath shook her head. “Not important. Right now, I was wondering if you’ve given any thought to what you’re going to do.”

  “Sure. I’ve given it lots of thought. Fat lot of good it did me.” She laughed ruefully. “Why?”

  Cath smiled. “If you’ve nothing better to do, would you be interested in a job?”

  “’Today is a date that shall forever live in history. Today, we have conquered the stars.’

  That was of course President Clifford Brooks, addressing us from his office only ten minutes ago after a message was received from the UESS Endeavour, the first manned spaceship to leave the Solar System.