"I'd almost say it's greater than transfer denial could account for, but I can't find anything else to blame it on. It's a weird feeling ... it's almost as if ..." He broke off before mouthing an absurdity. That premonition had primed him for trouble. "Forget it ... I've got too much imagination."
"Don't worry so much. You'll get in the swing of it and we'll be there before you know it," it was Bier's way to take a plan for an accomplished fact. "So you'll be at the Captain's table for dinner?"
"Did I say that?"
"No, but it's before hop and it's a traditional formality for the passengers even if this isn't a regular run."
"You're right, I suppose. What are the passengers like? I passed them when they came aboard, but we haven't spoken."
"Seem nice enough folks, both Earth-humans, dedicated scientists.They seem to make a good team, though I've only spoken to them a few minutes. Why?"
"Captain hasn't invited me, and I haven't met them. Minni can fill the spot just as well if they'd mind eating with a Sime."
"Ohhh ..." Bier scoffed, "nobody's like that these days!"
Klairon smiled ruefully around his coffee mug. "I've met a few. But never mind, set my place at the Captain's table, as usual."
It meant only a few minor modifications, such as marking his place with utensils balanced to be passed from fingers to tentacles with ease. All Simes were on a low sodium diet and he had to be careful to consume more dextrose than sucrose; and, of course, he would be served no meat. Simes found the flesh of the once-living distasteful, getting the bulk of their protein from a bean plant they had cultivated and hybridized.
"Ah," Klairon leaned back with a smile, "that's better. Amazing what a few calories can do for one's outlook. Now, I'm going to check the ventilation systems. That's the only thing I didn't give a double check for space out."
"But you serviced that just a couple of weeks ago! They couldn't possibly need attention already." Bier had visions of Klairon's feet dangling from the galley ceiling. It's taken him a week to clean up the mess, but the maintenance in transit was much cheaper than hiring port-crews and sitting aground for days.
"Just the same, I'm going to have to look at the main scrubbers and vitalizers. If something goes wrong in my department, it'snot going to be my fault." And he left Bier reassured that his galley was safe, at least this run.
Riding the lift past D deck with its three passenger cabins, each able to sleep three, but now almost empty, Klairon stepped off onto the C deck landing surrounded by the quarters of Bier, Mirkin and Cobb. Down on hands and knees, he removed one of the deck plates and crawled waist-deep into the tangle of green, yellow,and purple tubing which was the air purifying unit for A to F decks. The special miniature selyn battery was still three-quarters packed, and all the organic conductors–orgonics–were still fresh.
He double-checked every connection and the conventional electronic stand-bys before backing out. Even the dust collectors and air scrubbers were far from capacity.
"Klairon!" It was Cecil Minkin, the com-tech who doubled as watch officer and general electrician in his spare time–which he had plenty of when they were out of practical range of his best FTL communicators. "Something wrong?"
"Not a thing, Minni, just a routine check." Klairon replaced the deck section and stood up to brush himself off.
"But you just finished that job a couple of weeks ago. His words were sharp, but his tone was light. "I'm tired of always falling over your feet sticking out of some unlikely place."
Klairon answered in kind. "Especially when you're all spruced up for dinner?"
"Dinner? Naw, I'm on watch, more's the pity." Minkin's face fell so swiftly, Klairon made the obvious connection with their female passenger.
"Is she that much of a sparkler?"
"And more," Minkin grunted sadly, slumping the handsome breadth of shoulder most women found irresistible.
"Well, maybe you'll get a chance to give her the grand tour."
"With every man from the Captain on down fighting for the privilege? And her not deigning to glance at any of us, including me? You're kidding," Minkin returned as he caught a liftbar to ride up out of sight.
She was every bit that attractive, Klairon reflected over his soup that evening. She was one of those exquisite jewels of miniature perfection. Clad in black velvet and pearls, she was the ideal of all the Earth-bred aristocrats, poised, charming, diplomatic, warm, and yet aloof. It was hard to believe she was a scientist and not a socialite.
The crew's response was equally startling, for never had he seen their dress uniforms worn with such obvious care. Even Dr. Thorson's apparently uncombed white hair and ill-fitting dress tunic didn't spoil the air of gay formality. No, only the awareness of their mission could do that.
That awareness hovered above the two tables occupied by the six off-watch crew and the two passengers like a black thundercloud repelled only by the radiant personality and obviously trained grace of Miss Mandy Wyat. It was such a pity, Klairon reflected gloomily, that his condition kept him from responding to her charm. If he could fix his imagination on her, it would be a refreshing relief from the tension which was rapidly and unexplainably becoming unbearable.
"Miss Wyat," Klairon broke a lull in the conversation, "May I ask a personal question?"
She regarded him with real interest. "What would you like to know?"
"Would you be perhaps related to Ligen Wyat of Orogonics Incorporated?"
"How did you guess!" She smiled him a radiant beam. "Yes, he's my uncle."
"Then whatever led you into Xenovirology?"
Everyone knew that the Gen who had supported the Sime inventor of the organic selyn conductors that made selyn-powered equipment really dependable had founded one of Earth's greatest fortunes. But Klairon was probably the only one on the ship who knew that his name was Ligen Wyat.
"Why," for just an instant her whole bearing changed subtly from dazzling socialite to functional woman scientist, "I find the field irresistibly fascinating," but still there was a penetrating warmth in her steady gaze.
"I see," Klairon nodded, unable to say any more as the strangely powerful fantasy seized his attention.
Just then Bier trundled up a serving wagon with the main course. Towel over his arm, he enjoyed playing high class waiter and then sitting down at the other table with Cobb, Lieman and Iskin, the First Assistant Engineer.
"You see," she turned to Captain Welch smoothly overlooking Klairon's inattention, "I'd always wanted to travel the starlanes, and when ASN offered me a position where I could combine travel with my profession, I was delighted." Her smile changed by imperceptible degrees back to distant charm, "It must be wonderful to be an independent merchant and visit all the out-of-the-way places you do. Tell me about some of your most memorable experiences."
When Klairon recovered his equilibrium, Welch had borrowed his dessert fork and was arranging the rest of the tableware to illustrate how he'd opened a vast non-human market and incidentally won humanity some new friends. The way he put it, it sounded as if he'd done it single-handed, but Klairon was too busy worrying to object. What was the matter with him? Why couldn't he control his imagination? Every once in a while when his guard was down, it wasalmost as if ... but it was so ridiculous a fantasy. It was so unlike himself.This, well, he'd almost call it ... hallucinating.