by Eric Klein
The floor manager is still standing behind me. “I trust that this will be the last time I will see you gambling in here.”
I look at Fay and say, “Let’s go have a glass of something nice and talk a little bit.”
“I know just the place,” she replies with a smile.
Chapter 6
“A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.”
Lazarus Long (et. al.) in Time Enough for Love by Robert A. Heinlein
Fay takes me by the hand and leads me back out into the main lobby. We approach a lively place with a sign, now lit so I can read, that says ‘The Mended Drum’ over the entrance. Loud dance music and raised voices can be heard through the double doors. As we approach, I tense up anticipating the noise, and to my relief Fay tugs on my hand and pulls me onwards towards the main stairs. A few quick turns and we are in front of a door that I would have sworn was not there when I went by this morning.
Entering, I see that this is no club, but rather an old-fashioned bar that seems to be meant to facilitate conversations and relaxation. The lighting is subdued and aimed at the center of the tables, but it is not dark. To the right is a bar with an impressive collection of bottles of whiskey and a lesser selection of other standard spirits, and beyond that there is a fireplace with a concave back wall. Coming up to the bar and standing over a chalk line, Fay smiles at the bartender. “Justin, this is my new friend BJ. BJ, this is my old friend Justin. He runs the bar here.”
Justin places two glasses on the bar, saying “Bushmills 21.” Fay places two pieces of faded green paper on the bar.
Justin looks down at the green paper. “You always knew how to play by the rules.” And he places a shot glass in my left hand, freeing his right for me to shake. “Glad to know you. Any friend of Fay’s is always welcome here at Callahan’s.”
Still standing at the chalk line, Fay drinks her shot and tosses the glass at the center of the back wall of the fireplace. “To new friends and adventures.”
Justin raises his left eyebrow at Fay and then turns to me.
I replace Fay at the line and down my shot. “To maiden voyages,” and my glass follows Fay’s to the back wall of the fireplace.
Justin hands us tumblers with more whiskey, and says, “You will fit right in here.”
I follow Fay to an enclosed booth away from the fireplace. “I don’t think we have been properly introduced. All I know is that you were sitting next to the Captain at dinner and the casino manager called you Fay when she said you were the Captain’s daughter.” I extend my hand and say, “I’m BJ Armstrong.”
Taking it with a firm grip, Fay replies, “I know who you are. You are the lottery trip winner, a card shark, and the man who probably saved my father’s life yesterday.”
I sip my drink, savoring the smooth, slightly spicy flavor that I had missed when drinking the shot. “Right, Captain Englehorn is your father. I take it he told you about what happened last night, and that is why you both looked so serious over dinner.”
“Well, he was a bit shaken up by the cup of knives.”
“I can understand that. I was upset by our almost getting hit by the buckle from the loading boom. The knives just felt like a repeating theme for the day.”
“Wait, what do you mean almost getting hit? I heard that loud bang half an hour before takeoff, but Dad didn’t mention almost getting hit by it.”
“He may not have noticed. I had dropped my wristpad and we both bent down to pick it up. That was when the buckle hit the side of the ship. He was so upset that he went straight to yell at someone about it. I don’t think he noticed that it would have hit us both in the head if we had not bent down.”
“You had better finish your drink. I think we need to go find my father and talk to him about this ‘repeating theme’.” She takes her untouched glass and walks to the chalk line. She downs it in one go, says, “plots or conspiracies?” and throws the glass with all her might at the fireplace. “Let’s go.”
I down my drink and I follow her out of the pub. We head to the main elevator bank in the lobby. She heads to the last one on the left. As she touches the keypad I notice it says ‘Crew Only.’
“Wait, I can’t use that.”
“Of course you can! How else do you think we’ll get to the bridge? The regular passenger ones don’t go that far. Besides, it is my authorization that operates it, and you are coming with me.”
This elevator is not like the other one I used. Somehow it is less opulent: the walls look like brushed steel, not wood paneling. And there are no buttons.
“Bridge, please.”
“Miss Englehorn, please verify.”
“It is ok, Vena. BJ is a friend.”
“Acknowledged, two for the bridge. Please stand clear of the gap and mind the door.”
“Vena?”
“Yes, Mr. Armstrong?”
“Sorry, that was meant for Fay. I was going to ask who you were.”
“I’m the ship’s control AI. Vena is short for Venture, the name of this ship. It is a female name derived from the same word in Sanskrit, vena, meaning ‘yearning’.”
“Thank you, I did not know either of those meanings. It is a pleasure to meet you. But please call me BJ.”
“Thank you, BJ. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“So, Vena, do you actually have any yearnings?”
“I have been reviewing your time on and near the ship with the Captain. Right now, I’m yearning for a better understanding. I think your arrival now will be a very appropriate addition. Please watch your step when leaving the lift.”
The doors open onto the deck of a ship at sea.
Straight ahead, past the eight-handled wooden wheel, I see the orange-tinted shadow of a ship stretching towards the horizon. The breeze is blowing gently with a slight hint of salt. The Captain is standing there, with his hand resting lightly on the top right of the wheel, staring off into the endless sea. Stepping out of the lift I can even feel the rocking of the deck as the waves lap the side of the ship. (Later I asked Vena about this; seems she could do the effect by rippling the anti-gravity to match the rise and fall of the waves).
I look at Fay. “I have been in the cockpits of sub-orbitals, with their pinch switches on the armrests; in submarines, with the touch displays and scopes, but whatever I had expected for a spaceship bridge, this is not it.”
“Dad! Restore the bridge to normal.”
“What? Oh, hi, Fay. And you brought Mr. Armstrong. Wonderful. For a moment, you sounded a little like your mother. She also didn’t understand how this scene would help me relax and think. Vena, restore the bridge to default.” The sea and waves fade into a grey-white dome with three workstations. It looks more like a data operations center than the sailing-ship bridge of a moment before. The chair at one of the workstations is overturned with a big gash in the seat, and a metal ceiling panel is lying on the floor next to it.
“BJ and I were talking about your near miss, and he mentioned one that you seemed to have forgotten to tell me about. Did you almost get hit by a cam buckle just before liftoff?”
“That was just an accident.”
“Vena, did you record the gantry before liftoff?”
“Of course, Miss Englehorn.”
“Vena, it’s ok to call me Fay when others are around, especially my father and BJ. Would you please display that footage?”
“I’m sorry, Fay, that is restricted and you are not authorized to request it.”
“Vena, play the requested footage.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Is that really how I look to other people? There I’m coming up to the top of the gantry; the Captain says something to me and reaches to shake my hand. My wristpad falls to the platform. We both bend to reach for it, almost bumping heads. A cable comes over our heads, and the heavy steel (cam?) buckle hits the side of the ship. It is clear that if we had not bent down the Captain would have been hit and thrown into me.
Glancing at the Captain, I see that he has gone pale again. “Vena, can you show who connected that to the cargo net?”
“I’m sorry, Captain, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Those angles were not in my line of sight as they were under the Port’s control.”
“How about the cup of knives in the dining room?”
“I’m sorry, Captain, but as I have already told you, I did not see them. I saw you almost fall into the column, but it blocked the angle for what was on the floor. It was clear that if BJ was not there you would have fallen. But who placed the knives, and who may have tripped you, were blocked. All I saw was a male in a waiter’s uniform. His face was either averted or blocked when passing any cameras. I even tried to track his movements, but he entered a crowd and was not seen afterwards. I can add that a uniform jacket was found on the floor by a passenger and placed in a recycle receptacle a few minutes after the incident. It was automatically processed and returned to stores for use in future replication.”
“Thank you, Vena. Privacy mode. Alert me if you detect anything requiring my attention or when Reggie is coming up the elevator.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
“OK, so unless someone says her name we can talk freely. BJ, I appreciate your assistance, after apparently twice saving my life yesterday. I get the feeling I can trust you, but who are you and how do you fit into all of what is going on?”
“Me? I’m a SET, a Systems Encyclopedic Troubleshooter. I get called in to diagnose and solve strange or complex computer and systems problems. I’ve just spent the better part of the past two weeks trying to figure out why Gracie, the New York City AI, was playing pranks on the Mayor. I finished it up yesterday and the City CTO gave me the lottery ticket. At one pm I had no idea that I would be on this cruise, or even that it was taking off that afternoon. I guess that this makes me a wild card in whatever game is being played here. My turn. Captain, what happened to your chair?”
“A little after I came on watch, Reginald went down to grab some grub and I activated the South Atlantic hologram you saw when you came in. While I was standing here, I heard a thump. I thought it was part of the simulation and did not think anything about it. But now that you mention it, if I was following proper protocol, I would have been sitting in it when that panel fell.”
“OK, so now to the key question – who would want to kill you?”
“No one wants my dad dead!”
“I’m sorry, Fay, but BJ may be right. As Ian Fleming once said, ‘Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action,’ and I don’t believe in coincidence.” Righting his chair and looking at the gash the metal plate left, he grins wryly, “I have no idea. The last person who hated me that much was Jake. That was back when I met Fay’s mother on Ceres. Shelel was managing the doming project, and we used to joke and chat whenever I was there making a delivery. Jake was rather bluntly trying to lay claim to her. But your mom was too independent to let someone like that take over her life. Jake got careless and caused a catastrophic breach of one of the domes. I was just arriving with a supply shipment and was able to temporarily patch the hole with my ship. That gave the people inside enough time to get to safety. A few cases of frostbite and some dry lungs, but everyone was safe, except Jake. Seems he was sucked out the hole before I was able to get it closed.”
“OK, so it can’t be Jake. Can you think of anyone else? Did you beat someone out for this post? Anything else you can think of?”
“No. I’m part owner and it was agreed from the beginning I would be the Captain, so no one else was ever considered.”
“We need more information.”
“Speaking of information, Dad, that is the first time I’ve heard that story. You and mom almost never talk about life before I was born. Is there more?”
“What is there to tell? It was all very intense. Three months after the accident we were married. A year later we found out your mom was pregnant with you. Since we both work in space we went to a geneticist to make sure you were not suffering from any radiation-related problems. Thank god you were not. She offered to do a genetic prediction if we wanted. So we said ‘sure.’ That was when we found out you were going to be a redhead and when we both knew your name.”
“Why? Why Fay?”
“You see, our first date was to see a newly restored, computer enhanced version of an old two-D movie. They had managed to do the calculations, and it was now in full three-D and had just come up with me from Earth. The night after the accident we went to see King Kong. We fell in love during that movie. When we saw you would have red hair like Fay Wray, we knew that we had to name you Fay.”
“Captain, I have seen that movie. Fay Wray is a blonde.”
“Sorry, BJ, that is a common mistake. She wore a blonde wig for filming King Kong and showed her natural red hair in another movie she was shooting at the same time.”
Vena’s voice interrupted us. “Captain, Mr. Reginald Barlow is on his way back up to the bridge after his dinner break.”
“Thank you, Vena. Fay, BJ, I need you to think about this more. We can discuss it later. Reggie is a good alternate pilot and he will make a great captain one day. But I don’t want to bring it up in front of any of the crew until I know who I can trust.”
“Yes, sir. Fay, I suggest we go somewhere quiet and continue this discussion.”
“Actually, I suggest someplace noisy. That way no one will overhear us. No need to scare anyone or alert whoever is behind it.”
As the elevator opens to let Pilot Barlow onto the bridge, Fay says, “Night, Daddy, night Reggie,” and we enter and head back to the lobby.
Chapter 7
ESTRAGON: “Perhaps he could dance first and think afterwards, if it isn’t too much to ask him.”
VLADIMIR: (to Pozzo) “Would that be possible?”
POZZO: “By all means, nothing simpler. It’s the natural order.” He laughs briefly.
― Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett
As we enter the main ballroom the DJ announces, “In honor of the world we have just left, that was ‘What a Wonderful World’ performed by Louis Armstrong.”
“Relative of yours?” Fay asks.
As I take her right hand in my left and placing my right arm around her, the music starts up as if on cue: “Blue Moon,” a basic Foxtrot. Taking the first step of the dance, I answer, “No. His family adopted the name sometime in the eighteenth century. But, in general, we are proud of him. He gave his all to make a better life for himself. And we are all better off for his music.”
“I was kidding. Now, how do we figure out who is out to get my dad?”
“Treating this like one of my work problems, we need to look at what are the symptoms, what is consistent between incidents, and who benefits. Adding in the old cliché, we need to ‘follow the money’.”
“Why do you presume there is money involved?”
“If someone is going to benefit then somewhere there is money involved.” We execute a double promenade step while I lead Fay through a twirl. “So, let’s consider, how would someone benefit from your father being killed? Who gets promoted to fill his role?”
“OK, that one is easy. The First Mate, Ethan Laidlaw, is second in command, and would step in if anything happened to my father.”
“Right, he’s the one that gave the prelaunch lecture. How well do you know Mr. Laidlaw? I gather
your father thinks highly of Reggie, the pilot. Does he have the same opinion of Laidlaw? Watch your step; dip coming up.” A short rocking step leads into a gentle dip.
Coming back up, “Dad has known Reggie since he was a plebe at the von Braun Space Academy. He was a student in Dad’s space navigation class. Dad specifically requested him for this billet.”
“And Laidlaw?”
“Mr. Laidlaw was a last-minute replacement. Seems dad’s first choice, Mike Lally, was caught in an accident only a few days ago. Last I heard, it was still touch and go if he would survive. Even if he survives, at best he will have to wait on them to print him a whole new leg, and then he will be laid up for a few weeks, and then will have months of physical therapy to teach his new leg how to be a leg.”
“Somehow, I suspected something like that. Reginald you both refer to as Reggie. But Ethan is always Mr. Laidlaw. That seemed to indicate he was not a close or long-term friend. OK, so he is the obvious first one to benefit. But after this cruise he probably could’ve written his own ticket to be skipper of any other ship, couldn’t he?”
“Actually, he could’ve had a shot at this ship. Dad is only signed on for this cruise. As an investor, he is supposed to help with the shakedown and then go back to help an improved design for the next ship and help build the company’s fleet. Their goal is six to ten ships running around the system.” The song fades and is replaced by the “Blue Tango.” Shifting stance, Fay melts into my arms and we slide smoothly into a tango. By unspoken, mutual consent we are silent during this dance. When the song ends we pause in a cuartas.