The Blunt End of the Service

by L. J. Simpson

  “The itinerary for the operation will be as follows. A team of Comtec engineers will arrive tomorrow morning to disconnect Hector from the station’s data net – a somewhat complex procedure, so I am told.

  “Hector will then be connected to an external power supply in a holding room next to the core where the engineers will monitor its stability. When the engineers are satisfied that its removal from O1’s data net has not resulted in any loss of function, Hector will then be transported to Phoenix where it will be integrated into their data net. The whole Operation will be conducted solely by Comtec engineers, to whom you will give your full co-operation at all times. Questions?”

  “Has a replacement for Hector been decided on?” said Chuck.

  “We have procured a Dynatron 6000 Series core which will be installed as soon as Hector is disconnected. Anything else?” Bernie opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off. “No? Good. Carry on.” And for the second time in as many hours Primrose watched Jacks stomp out of the room.

  “A Dynatron 6000?” said Bernie. “Is that the best they could find? It’s almost as old as me… well, as old as Penny, anyway.”

  “Chuck?” said Jacobs.

  “It is a bit out-dated, but it was a good, robust core. We might need something better when the Titan crew arrives but it will keep us going for the time being.”

  “Either way,” said Jacobs, “I don’t think Jacks is going to put it to a vote, so do like he says, people.”

  Early next morning Chuck and Penny waited at the airlock as a shuttle bearing two Comtec engineers arrived from Atlas.

  “Hi, Mike, Doug,” said Chuck as they boarded the station. “This is Penny Parker, our newest recruit. Penny, Mike Givens and Doug Timmins, the Comtec guys who keep an eye on Hector.”

  “Hi,” said the two engineers. “Guess you know why we’re here?”

  “Yeah, we heard,” said Chuck. “So what’s the story with Ulysses?”

  “No idea,” said Mike. “They keep us out of the loop. Even if we did know we’d be sworn to secrecy – it’s like working for the secret service these days. All I know is, we’re supposed to disconnect Hector and get him fixed up on life support in the holding room until they’re ready for him over on Phoenix.”

  “Life support?”

  “Kind of, but don’t worry. Should be OK.”

  “Should be?”

  “Forget I said that. Like I said, we’re not supposed to talk about it... are we Doug?”

  “Not much that we are allowed to talk about. I think we’re allowed to say ‘Hello’.”

  “But only in a muted voice.”

  “And in a noncommittal manner.”

  “In order to – and I quote – ‘Discourage further discourse which could lead employees to inadvertently disclosing information detrimental to the Comtec Corporation’. But I didn’t tell you that.”

  “However, we do come bearing gifts,” said Mike, waving to a trolley. “Your brand new/second hand Dynatron 6000.”

  “Only second hand?”

  “No guarantees on that, but it’s been thoroughly tested – it’s on the top line. It’s a reliable core if a bit limited. How many sections have you got working now? Still just Alpha?”

  “At present, but we’re working to get Delta Section up and running.”

  “Two sections? It’ll be fine,” said Mike.

  “We never said that either, of course,” said Doug.

  “If anyone asks me, what did you say?”

  “Hello.”

  “In a muted and noncommittal manner?” asked Penny.

  “See, you’ve got the hang of it already,” said Mike. “We’ll make Comtec employees of you yet. Well, let’s make a move. Lots to do.”

  “Can we watch?” said Chuck.

  “If was up to us,” said Mike. “But I’m afraid that the powers that be have decreed that the whole operation must take place behind closed doors, and with the security cameras turned off. We just need you to let us in and out.”

  “Told you working on O1 would be an experience, Pen,” said Chuck as they escorted the two engineers to the hub. “You are now going to learn how to be a doorman.”

  Eight hours later Chuck received a call from Mike Givens. “All finished, Chuck. Can you come and let us out, please?”

  “On our way.” Chuck and Penny arrived in the core to find the Dynatron 6000 humming away in the center of the room.

  “Is it working OK?”

  “Yeah, no problem. We asked Ops to run a bunch of simulations and they all went without a hitch. Told you so.”

  “No you didn’t.”

  “Very true.”

  “And Hector?”

  “Hector’s through here,” said Mike, leading them into the adjacent compartment, in the center of which sat a cylindrical silver-grey object. Running in and out of the cylinder were a myriad of cables, hoses and coolant pipes, most of which ran into two large consoles set on either side.

  “So what now?”

  “That’s all we can do for the present so we’re off back to Atlas to err… do something we can’t talk about. We’ll be back in twenty four hours to run some checks, and then every twenty four hours after that, for as long as it takes.”

  “As long as what takes?”

  “Don’t really know, to be honest. They keep us–”

  “Out of the loop. Yeah, we know.”

  “Makes you wonder,” said Chuck as they watched Mike and Doug depart. “Who really is in the loop?”

  CHAPTER 7

  Delta Section, Orbital One

  At the touch of a button the door to Airlock 28 slid smoothly open, closing just as smoothly with another. Bernie Stevens repeated the procedure another three times to ensure that the door was indeed functioning properly and then studied the pressure gauge to verify that the air pressure inside the airlock remained stable. Satisfied, he began packing away his tools. Good as new, he thought. He still needed to check the outer door, which took a lot more effort as it meant bringing the Valiant around and mating her to the airlock before it could be opened, but that could wait for morning. Bernie reckoned he’d done enough for one day.

  There were eight of these airlocks running around the outside of Delta Section and he still had four to go. Everyone was thrilled that the Titan Corporation was leasing Delta but with that and the extra traffic from Phoenix, the rush to get everything ready in time meant that they were all working a lot of overtime. Some of the guys – especially the younger ones – were pleased with the extra disposable income; Duke would probably convert his into a hangover at the earliest opportunity while young Baz would be off to Phoenix even quicker. Having finally plucked up the courage to enter Madam Fifi’s Pink Salon, he had become a valued, not to mention regularly satisfied customer. Bill Longman, on the other hand, would be content for exactly as long as it would take him to lose his pay on the gaming tables – which wouldn’t be very long at all – after which he would return to his normal bellicose self.

  With a last glance at the pressure gauge, Bernie swung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the stairs; the elevators wouldn’t be back on line for a week or so even if they kept to schedule, which was looking increasingly doubtful. Penny was a big help though – far more than Vinny would have been. She seemed to have a working knowledge of almost all the systems and equipment aboard O1. Better still, she was an ever willing worker and really easy to get on with. There was something else about her too – the way she held herself and the way she walked; she reminded him so much of Emily. The thought made him pause for a moment and he gazed out into space through the window at the bottom of the stairwell.

  Emily had been the first and only love of his life. They’d met during their first deep space voyage, an eight month trip on a huge bulk carrier to some distant star or other. Strange that he couldn’t remember where, not that it mattered any more.

  Eight months was a long time to spend in solitude and crew members often entered into relationships of
convenience, liaisons expected to last only as long as the voyage itself. Being the youngest and most inexperienced of the crew, Bernie and Emily naturally gravitated together and by chance they found in an instant what many people spent their whole lives searching for – their true soul mate.

  Bernie had forgotten much of that voyage and the ones after that – his crewmates, the places they visited, the cargoes they carried, but he could recall the off duty hours as clearly as if they were yesterday. The times he and Emily had spent together in their cramped quarters, the meals they ate, the old movies they watched together, the bed they shared.

  Deep space voyages paid well and there was also the added bonus that being light years from the nearest retail shop, you didn’t get much chance to spend your pay. At the end of their third voyage Bernie and Emily tied the knot and then signed up for their fourth and hopefully their last trip. Just one more run and they would have enough for a down payment on a house and settle down to a normal life, have kids, grow flowers, go for picnics and do all the stuff that regular families did.

  Three months into that last voyage Emily came down with a fever. There was a medical orderly on board but he wasn’t equipped to diagnose the cause and neither would Emily respond to any of the drugs that he had at his disposal. The fever was unrelenting; by the third day Emily became delirious and the medic was concerned enough to request that a distress call be sent out. Even at best speed they were more than a week away from the nearest aid station.

  A hyper-liner answered the call but by the time it arrived Emily had slipped into a coma. The liner made record speed to the closest space dock and Emily was quickly transported to the on board medical facility. Bernie found himself being ushered out of the emergency room as a team of doctors and nurses quickly went to work on his wife. An hour later a doctor took him aside and told him gently but firmly that his wife had gone into cardiac arrest and they had been unable to resuscitate her. That was it; she was gone. As simply and as quickly as that. The doctor gave him some explanation as to the probable cause but Bernie wasn’t really listening. He couldn’t take it in. He was numb – at least to everything on the outside. On the inside he was in turmoil. One of the hospital staff – probably some kind of social worker – took him to her office, sat him down and just chatted to him until he cried, and then talked some more until he stopped. After that she gave him a cup of tea. Why did they always give you tea? He couldn’t remember much of the next twenty four hours and later wondered if they’d put some kind of sedative in his drink. Perhaps that’s why they gave you the tea.

  Next day a man from Bernie’s company flew in to help with all the necessary arrangements – the paperwork, transporting the body back home and finding Bernie a place to stay in the interim period. The company was good like that; they had plenty of practice because despite all the advances in technology, travelling across the reaches of space was still a dangerous business.

  He also suggested counseling. At first Bernie flatly refused. That was all he needed, some damn fool poking around in his private affairs, telling him how he felt, or how he was – or wasn’t – supposed to feel. He already knew how he felt, like someone had cut his heart out with a rusty spoon and filled in the cavity with frozen daggers. How was talking about it supposed to help, especially to a complete stranger?

  After a little gentle persuasion he eventually agreed. As the company man said, it wouldn’t do any harm and it might well do some good. As it turned out, it helped. The counselor explained the various stages of the grieving process and Bernie was level headed enough to recognize them. It didn’t make it any easier to bear but at least it gave order to the pain. The initial denial and disbelief, followed quickly by feelings of anger and guilt – anger at the vagaries of fate, and guilt because if she hadn’t married him, she might not have been stuck way out in the wilderness when she needed help most. After that came the depression, loneliness and finally acceptance and with it a kind of release.

  Where the counselor couldn’t help was in dealing with friends full of good intentions but lacking in basic tact. Most would say something along the lines of ‘Tough break, Bernie. Hang in there and if there’s anything you need just give me a call. Anytime, night or day. OK?’ That was great; what more could you ask of a friend? Trouble was, the odd one or two had to go a step further, or even worse, attempt to rationalize it in some way.

  ‘Time is a great healer’ was a particular favorite. Unfortunately, Bernie was living in the here and now. However, as difficult as it was to believe in his present state of mind, he knew the truth of it and therein he found a ray of hope – the hope that he would one day be healed.

  ‘Life goes on’ was another one that he could just about cope with because life did indeed go on. It sucked and sometimes he almost wished it didn’t go on but it did and that’s all there was to it; you just got on with it best you could.

  What he couldn’t suffer was stuff like ‘Everything happens for a reason’ and ‘It’s all part of God’s plan.’ It just rubbed Bernie up the wrong way. If there was any reason to Emily’s death he was damned if he could see it, and as for God, well God had best keep a low profile for the time being. The way Bernie was feeling, he was just as likely to make a pact with the Devil as commune with the Almighty. Fortunately, Satan kept his distance too so Bernie got to muddle through on his own until time did its thing and he could go to bed at night without dreading waking up in the morning.

  By then he was in his early thirties and back in space. Some said that going back was a mistake. Better to stay on the ground where there were fewer reminders, fewer memories. Bernie thought that one over for a while and came to the conclusion that it didn’t matter where he lived or worked; the memories were stored up in the medial temporal lobe of his brain and that went with him wherever he went.

  A few years after that he reached the point where he thought he might be ready to enter into another relationship. He was still relatively young and still had a certain appeal – or so he was told – so why not give it another shot? From time to time thereafter he found himself on a date – usually a blind one – and occasionally he even managed to hit it off with someone. The trouble was that for some reason he could never summon up enough enthusiasm to keep it going. All the effort you had to put in, dressing up for evenings out, making conversation, trying to be interesting and even worse, trying to appear interested. It was damned hard work. It had never been that difficult with Emily, had it? Surely not, everything had been so easy then. Nothing was ever forced, it just came naturally.

  After a few abortive attempts to find love again, Bernie decided that it would be simpler and easier just to stay single. The plain truth was that he was never going to find anyone who could shine a light to Emily and he wasn’t prepared to settle for anything less

  And now, pushing sixty years old, romance wasn’t something he even bothered dreaming about any more. He was probably past it anyway. His left knee ached with every step of the stairs and he was wheezing even before he made the halfway landing. Without a good woman to keep him on the straight and narrow he hadn’t looked after himself as well as he might and thirty years of single life had taken its toll. A strict regimen of too many calories and not enough exercise had left him unfit and overweight and despite the best advice of various doctors, Bernie had never found it within himself to slow the trend, never mind reverse it. Faced with a straight choice between a chocolate donut and a bowl of tofu, the calories won every time.

  He reached the landing and checked his bearings. He could get back to Alpha Section by walking all the way around the outer circumference of the station, or he could cut across through the hub. A lot of people said that it seemed quicker walking around the circumference. Walking along one of the spokes was like travelling down a long tunnel that seemed to stretch into infinity, whereas walking around the rim your field of vision was limited by the curve of the station. It was all relative and Einstein would probably have had a theory for it, but as far as B
ernie was concerned, when you’ve got a dodgy knee 2r beats πr every time. By the time he had reached the hub he felt the need for a break and headed up to Ops to while away some time with Archie Andrews. If there was one place you could guarantee getting a decent cup of coffee at any time of the day or night it was in Ops. And not only was it free, there was always the chance of a chocolate cookie when Archie was on duty. It meant climbing back up a couple of levels but it would be worth it.

  A few minute later Bernie was pouring himself a cup of coffee at the antiquated but perfectly maintained espresso machine.

  “Any biscuits?”

  “In the drawer,” replied Archie. “Hey Bernie, do me a favor and mind the shop for a minute. There’s something I need to take care of.”

  “No problem,” said Bernie, easing himself into a chair and beginning a frontal assault on a packet of Old Mother Aichison’s Original Chocolate Cookies. Seasoned campaigner as he was, in no time at all he was three quarters of the way down the pack. No point in leaving a few in the bottom, he thought to himself – might as well polish them off. Draining his coffee he tossed the empty pack in the bin and glanced up at the clock. Archie was certainly taking his time. Bernie wandered over to the main console and looked at the command window that Archie had neglected to close. His last command had been to switch off the smoke alarm in compartment E5, three decks below. He’d also switched on the air purifiers. So, Archie had slipped off for a crafty smoke. Tobacco might have been outlawed for decades but Archie still managed to get his hands on a ready supply and on O1 there were plenty of places where he could indulge his addiction in private.

  Bernie considered creeping down to E5 and trying to catch him in the act but if Archie wanted to mess up his lungs, it was pretty much his own business. In any case, three decks down and then two back up to the corridor leading back home was way too many stairs for a man who just wanted to get back to his quarters and put his feet up. Closing the command window he settled back down to wait for Archie to return, which he did shortly after, sucking furiously on an extra strong mint.