McClendon's Syndrome (v1.1)

by Robert Frezza

  “So I don’t get lynched by Lydia’s readership before they read her retraction,” I finished for her. “Now comes the interesting part.”

  “All right, young man, just what does the navy have to do to keep you from blurting out exceedingly inconvenient facts?”

  “Ma’am, I’m a spacer. I want to stay in space.”

  “Can’t help you there. That’s not a navy matter. The Guild’ll pull your license and boot you out as soon as the news leaks that you’re a vamp. The navy couldn’t let you sign on to a ship without telling them that you’ve got McLendon’s, and who would take you on if they knew?” Crenshaw was a big woman, and nobody would mistake her for a grandmother.

  “Well, ma’am, I was hoping to run my own ship. I kind of like the idea, now that I’ve had a chance to try it. Captain MacKay—it has a certain ring to it. And I might add that if I got infected while I was on active service and can’t space, that sounds like a one-hundred-percent navy disability until and unless you can retrain me. And I’m not very trainable.”

  Crenshaw smirked. “MacKay, let’s be serious about this, shall we? How are you going to get that piece of junk of yours repaired, and how are you ever going to get it reregistered?”

  “Well, first of all, the navy commandeered my ship and owes me standard rates plus money to put it back in the condition it was in before it got shot up the last time, which is another thing my lawyer will discuss at the proper time. It also occurs to me that the Rodents are a little short on spacecraft at the moment.”

  “MacKay, I don’t mean to pry in your personal affairs, but apart from the fact that it may take you a long time to see any government money, hasn’t it slipped your mind that you have had entirely too much to do with the fact that the Rodents are short of spacecraft?” Her expression said, You have about one more minute to make your point before I throw you out.

  “Ma’am, Ambassador Beaver has assured me that !Plixxi* is due for a change in government. I suspect that a new !Plixxi* government would be interested in hiring and registering my ship, and they might even compensate me for the original combat damage.”

  “All right, sailor.” Crenshaw met my eyes. “Supposing you can manipulate your Rodent friend, what deal do you want from me?”

  I took a deep breath. “Ma’am, you want me to forget about being a vamp long enough to testify. I want you to forget about my being a vamp long enough to get me back here and get the Scupper repaired and reregistered under Rodent merchant colours, at which point I will cease to be a navy problem.”

  “I seriously doubt that. Out of idle curiosity, how do you propose to crew this rust trap of yours?”

  “Oh, I ought to be able to find a few people willing to sign on. I imagine some of my old shipmates would say they’ve seen worse, and I could probably get some Rodents if I had to.”

  “And is there any little thing else you want?” Crenshaw asked casually.

  I took another deep breath. “Just this. Lieutenant Lindquist is navy through and through. I know she doesn’t want to get out. Now, I know there’s no way you can assign her to a navy ship, but there has to be something the navy can give her to keep her in space. So she’s part of the deal. She keeps her commission and you assign her to my ship undercover.”

  I saw Crenshaw start to utter a really biting remark and hesitate, so I jumped in. “And to cap the deal, I’ll resign my Wavy Navy commission.”

  Crenshaw looked at me for a long minute. “No way you get to resign, son. I have the feeling I am going to want all the hooks known to mankind into you. Now tell me, does this crackpot notion belong to you or to Lieutenant Lindquist?”

  “Ma’am, this one’s mine. Believe me, if Catarina had cooked this up, it would be a hell of a lot smoother.”

  “And if I agree, I suppose the next thing you’ll want to discuss is compensation for your ship’s hire and the combat damage.” Crenshaw folded her arms.

  “Ma’am, we can discuss that later. As far as I’m concerned, if the navy gets too chintzy, as long as I have a missile launcher aboard I can always run up the Rodent flag and do a little self-help,” I told her lightly.

  “Blackboard you’re not, but you already know that if we have to put you up in front of a subcommittee, we’ll make sure you get paid fairly. All right, what happens if I say no to this silly scheme of yours, Ensign?”

  “Well, ma’am, as Bucky says, ‘In times of utmost adversity, desperate actions are sometimes necessary for the general good.’ “

  “What in hell is that supposed to mean, MacKay?”

  “Ma’am, it means on Earth I squeak like a rusty wheel. Also, I lean across the desk and bite you on the neck,” I said, leaning across the desk.

  The lady was tough. “Son, genetic predisposition for McLendon’s Syndrome is what, three percent of the entire population? You ever seen a black vampire?”

  “Ma’am, for the last month or so, I have been hitting on lower probabilities than that. You don’t get a deal without Catarina.”

  Crenshaw grinned and shook her head from side to side. “MacKay, you’ll do. Lindquist? You out there?”

  Catarina opened the door and came in. That’s when I figured out I was really in trouble.

  Crenshaw looked at me. “All right, MacKay, did my lieutenant put you up to this, or did you come up with this harebrained notion on your very own?”

  My mother always taught me to tell the truth when I get confused. “Ma’am, I can honestly say this one was my very own.”

  “Lindquist,” Crenshaw said, “your insubordinate subordinate here has just threatened to foul up his testimony before the subcommittee, commit piracy, and bite me on the neck unless I agree to let him operate his ship for the Rodents and ship you on board her with a covert commission. Do you know anything about this?”

  “It sounded so much nicer when I said it,” I murmured inaudibly.

  “Captain, this was Ken’s idea. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

  “Hrumph. I would have sworn he didn’t have enough sense to pour water out of a boot, and his mother dresses him funny... Did you want to say something, MacKay?”

  I shook my head.

  She looked back at Catarina. “It isn’t polished enough to be your handiwork, so I suppose it’s his. I suppose that in a myopic way, his mind is just as evil as yours is, and if so it would be a shame to waste it on honest pursuits. If you want him, he’s all yours.”

  Crenshaw turned her head and fixed one beady eye on me. “Congratulations, young man. Don’t let your head swell, but you probably just became Commander-in-chief of the Rodent navy. It’s a hell of a lot cheaper than letting them have another cruiser.”

  Catarina rapped her ring against the desk for emphasis. “Ken, I thought you should know that Captain Crenshaw was my Tac Officer at the Academy.”

  “Uh, yeah,” I said.

  “Catarina, why don’t you take your fire-breathing young ensign aside and put the finishing touches on his concoction.”

  Something wasn’t tracking. “Huh?” I said.

  “Captain Crenshaw had me listening in on the intercom. She felt it would save time all around,” Catarina explained. “So how about this: I resign my commission for health reasons and accept a civilian intelligence appointment. You hire your ship out to the navy—”

  “We buy you cheap,” Captain Crenshaw said helpfully.

  “—And I stay on as your controller. The navy pays your expenses for purely navy missions.”

  “Keep lots of receipts,” Crenshaw added.

  “Do I get any say in this?”

  The two of them looked at me. “Of course not. This is the navy.”

  Catarina shrugged and tossed her hair. “I feel kind of responsible for you. And if it doesn’t work out, I can always try the convent.”

  “Some choices are better than nothing. I assume that makes me—”

  She nodded. “Better than nun.”

  I took a deep breath and finished for her. “You’d find it
too convent-ional. It’s not something you’d want to make a habit of.”

  Crenshaw shook her head. “God help those Rodents!”

  “And we all live happily ever after. Think we can get a crew?” I asked.

  Catarina smiled. “I looked into that. Clyde’s interested if he can get a license. Wyma Jean is, too.”

  “What about Rosalee?”

  “Rosalee is in. She said, ‘It wouldn’t feel right if the captain on that ship wasn’t a bloodsucking son of a bitch.’ “

  “That’s four watch-standers,” I said. “That’s a start. Should I ask about the lawsuits chasing me around the galaxy?”

  “Omura and I fixed a few of them. When the J. T. Pollard Fertiliser and Feed Company found out you used their guano for your smoke screen, they agreed to drop the suit and pay you five thousand if you’ll appear in an advertising video.”

  “It’s a deal as long as I get to hold the feed bag and don’t have to wear it,” I said quickly.

  “As for the others?” She shrugged. “Think of it as your public duty to keep lawyers off the welfare roles.”

  I looked at Crenshaw, who was trying very hard not to laugh.

  “Ensign,” she said, “I am going to tell you one secret that had better not leave this room. We broke the Macdonalds’ code six months ago, so we knew Genghis was going to invade—”

  “But—” I said.

  “—two months from now. That’s why I sent Catarina. I will leave you with one thought to ponder. If you hadn’t involved yourself, Genghis would have invaded this planet on schedule, and I would have blown away his ships and guaranteed my own career and Naval appropriations for the next twenty years. Unfortunately, the best military plans rarely survive contact with the people who get to carry them out. There’s a moral in there somewhere. As you reflect upon this, Ensign, I trust you will grow in wisdom. Because if you don’t, Lindquist is under orders to beat it into your pointy little head.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said, standing to attention.

  Crenshaw left the room. “Come on. Let’s find Cheeves and get the details fixed,” Catarina said.

  Cheeves was waiting for us outside. “Cheeves, Bucky offered to reflag the Scupper as a !Plixxi* merchant vessel, or will, about ten minutes after you suggest it to him. Tell him I accept.”

  Cheeves bowed very slightly. “Very good, sir. I will convey these auspicious tidings to His Rotundity, and I will have the necessary papers sent to your residence for signature.”

  “Thank you, Cheeves. Now, off the record, what is there that I should know?”

  Cheeves twitched his whiskers. “Sir, a number of the survivors from Nemesis and the other ships have not been captured, and there are reports of random violence—bands of armed marauders are entering gerbil farms at night and opening all the cages. These survivors apparently feel themselves too shamed to return to !Plixxi*. Dr. Beaver intends to ask Captain Crenshaw to allow them to remain if they agree to lay down their arms.”

  Catarina looked at him thoughtfully, and I remembered that a couple of the Rodents on the shuttle looked a little like schnauzers.

  “Sir, I should also mention that as I was leaving !Plixxi*, Dr. Beaver’s demi-brother Cain was fomenting a rebellion which might occasion some difficulties. But nothing above your ability to handle, I trust.”

  “Uh, right, Cheeves,” I said. I then plugged my fingers in my ears so that I wouldn’t hear the inevitable pun.

  It eventually worked out. Harry sold his bar and bought in. Bucky looked sharp in his robes of state when we got him to recommission the old bucket, and I’m still dodging lawsuits.

  I even talked to a reporter once. I said, “In your face.”

  When all was said and done, the one thing that annoyed me was the actor they got to play me in the TV movie. He was a forty-five-year-old homosexual, and when I saw what he looked like in plastic fangs, I wanted to change my name.

  And whatever happened to actresses like Ingrid Bergman? The woman they had playing Catarina could barely stuff her cleavage into coveralls. And they never did get the bar scenes right.

  About the Author

  Robert Frezza was born in 1956 at Boiling Air Force Base and grew up around Baltimore, Maryland. He graduated from Loyola College in Baltimore with a B.A. in history and was commissioned as a second lieutenant through the ROTC program. He then went on to the University of Maryland Law School to learn a trade and avoid ending up as a second lieutenant in infantry in Alabama.

  After serving on active duty for three years in Germany as a captain in the Judge Advocate General’s Corps, he went to work for the Army as a civilian attorney. He was formerly the Deputy Chief of the Personnel Claims and Recovery Division of the U. S. Army Claims Service and is a graduate of the Army Management Staff College.

  A third-generation Baltimore Orioles fan, he enjoys reading, theatre, and arguing military history. He lives reasonably quietly in Glen Burnie, Maryland.

  Table of Contents

  An Unexpected Party;or, Ill-Met in a Dank Bar

  ...And the Bad News Is,the Captain Wants to Water-Ski

  Thoroughly Scuppered

  Congratulations.Whom Do you Suspect?

  Errands, and Biting Irony

  Once upon a Mailship

  A Guarded Response

  Six Days Thou Shalt Work,and Do All Thou Art Able;and the Seventh the Same,and Pound on the Cable

  Iron Ships and Wooden Men;or, The Good Ship Pinafore

  In the words of General Custer,Will You Look At All Those Indians!

  Riding Off into the Sunset

  About the Author