As I rounded the Level 3 circumference corridor I heard laughter ahead. A soccer ball skittered around the bend.
Crewmen sometimes congregated outside the crew berths in the evening, kicking a ball back and forth. Doing so in the corridors was against regs but generally ignored. Without thinking I kicked it against a bulkhead, bouncing it back the way it had come. I followed.
“Go for it, Morrie! Pretend it’s Captain Kid’s head!” A laugh.
“Belay that, before he has you up on charges!” Another voice, jeering.
“TEN HUT!” Someone bellowed the command as I came into sight. The ball rolled to the bulkhead and rebounded gently toward me. I put my foot on it.
“Carry on.” The group relaxed from attention, but waited in mute hostility for me to leave. I shouldn’t have interrupted.
If I’d turned the other way in the circumference corridor, I could have reached the engine room without passing them.
“I used to play that once.” I wished someone would have the audacity to invite me, knew that no one would.
An awkward silence, before one of the men spoke politely.
“Is that so, Captain?”
“Back when,” I said, trailing off. “Carry on,” I repeated, walking past as quickly as dignity permitted. I heard no further sounds until I reached the engine room. Chief Me Andrews was below in the fusion shaft supervising a valve maintenance detail, so I retreated back to Level 1, this time taking the west corridor so as not to pass the crew berths.
Still restless, I ignored the bridge and continued down the corridor to the now-vacant lieutenants’ cabins and the wardroom. While I waited, hesitant to knock, Sandy flung open the hatch, smiling. At the sight of me, he took an involuntary step backward, his smile vanishing. He stiffened to attention. Alexi rolled off the bed and came to attention also.
Derek sat cross-legged on the deck with a pair of shoes in his lap, and three other pairs nearby. He put down polish and brush and stood awkwardly.
“Carry on, all of you.” Sandy and Alexi relaxed. Derek resumed polishing a boot. “How’re you joes doing?” I asked.
“Fine, sir.” I yearned to hear Alexi call me “Mr. Seafort,” as before.
“What’s Vax up to?” Anything, to make conversation.
“Mr. Holser went to the passenger lounge, sir.” Sandy’s tone was almost friendly in comparison with Alexi’s stiffness.
“What’s with the cadet?”
An uncomfortable pause. I’d violated the tradition that cadets were not noticed by officers. Sandy spoke. “Mr.
Holser didn’t approve of the way his shoes were shined. The cadet is practicing on ours.” Quite within the acceptable bounds of hazing.
“Very well.” I glanced around. The wardroom seemed small after my sojourn in the spacious Captain’s cabin, but I repressed an urge to order my old bunk made ready nonetheless.
Alexi’s eye strayed to his wrinkled blanket and darted elsewhere. “Don’t worry, Mr. Tamarov, this isn’t an inspection.” I owed him more than that, so I added, “I’m pleased with your conduct these days, Mr. Tamarov. With all of you, for that matter.”
“Thank you, sir.” Alexi spoke promptly, politely.
Even Derek might need encouragement. “You too, Mr.
Carr.”
His eyes rose quickly and searched my expression, perhaps to see if I mocked him. Apparently mollified, he said,”Thank you, sir.” His voice held a hint of gratitude.
Time to go. There would be no conversation, no exchange beyond the most casual pleasantries. “Carry on.” I opened the hatch.
“Thank you for visiting, sir,” Alexi blurted.
It was something.
“That’s the last of them.” I looked over the parameter list with its checkmarks and notations.
The Pilot nodded. “Yes, sir. Nine glitches in all, out of some fourteen hundred parameters.”
I shivered, thinking of the air exchangers. Darla could easily have killed us. “Very well, we’ll fix her tomorrow morning. You, me, and the Chief.” I took us all off the watch roster for the night; best that none of us be fatigued when we reviewed each other’s keyboard entries.
That evening I fought an urge to stop at the infirmary for another pill. Even if the Doctor was reluctant to give me a (rank, I could order one, and she’d have to obey. The knowledge made me secure enough to sleep like a baby.
When Ricky brought my breakfast I remarked, “You may take the oath as soon as we’re finished with repairs, Mr.
Fuentes.”
His eyes lit. A grin spread over his young, eager face.
“Wow, zarky! Thanks, Captain! Will that be soon?”
“Tomorrow you’ll be a cadet like Mr. Carr. I expect you to make officer in a month!”
He knew that was preposterous. “I can’t do it that fast, sir. But I’ll try awful hard. Maybe in a few months you’ll say I qualify.” He hesitated. “Does everybody have to cry, sir?”
I was puzzled. “What do you mean, Ricky?”
“Like Derek. When he goes to the supply locker by himself and cries. Will I have to do that?”
“No, I don’t think so. You’re too happy to cry.” My thoughts raced. “How do you know about Derek?”
“I saw him, sir, and heard it. I didn’t tell him that.”
“Don’t. That’s an order. Dismissed, Mr. Fuentes; go memorize the oath. If you can’t remember it I won’t sign you up.” “Aye aye, sir!” As he left the room his step was almost a bound. If only all personnel problems were as easy to solve.
The Chief, Pilot Haynes, and I sealed the bridge, put Darla on keyboard-only, removed the safeties we had reinstalled, and got to work. I typed each correction on the keyboard, and both the Chief and the Pilot checked before I entered it.
We had only nine parameters to delete and reenter, but it took over an hour. I had to be absolutely sure we didn’t make a mistake.
Finally, we were done. Just to be sure, I ran a new copy of input parameters and checked each of the items we had corrected. The proper figures were displayed on the holovid screen.
“What do you think, gentlemen? Are we ready to put her on-line?”
The Pilot and the Chief exchanged glances. “We’ve gone through every step by the book,” said Mr. Haynes. The Chief nodded.
“Very well.” Step by step we restored Darla, reactivating her antitampering mechanisms and safeties. Finally there was nothing left but to bring back her personality. I typed in, “Restore conversational overlays.”
“VERIFY CONVERSATIONAL OVERLAYS RESTORED.”
“Cancel alphanumeric response only.”
“IT’S ABOUT TIME! VERIFY ALPHANUMERIC RESPONSE CANCELED.”
I tapped, “Cancel screen display only. Restore voice response.”
“Verified, Captain.” Her friendly voice was a reunion with an old friend.
“Cancel keyboard entry only,” I typed. “Can you hear me, Darla?” I said.
“Of course I can hear you, Mr. Seafort. Why’d you put me to sleep?”
“Had to run some checks, Darla. Please run a self-test.”
“Aye aye, sir. Just a minute.” She was silent awhile. We waited. “I check out, Captain. All chips firing.”
“Whew.” My tension began to dissipate. “Thanks, Chief.
You too, Pilot. Well done.”
The Chief stood. “If we’re going to Fuse soon I need to finish my maintenance.”
“Very well. Dismissed, and thanks.” As he retreated, I had a thought. “Darla, what’s ship’s base mass?”
“215.6 standard units,” she said impatiently. “Why do you keep asking?” The Chief Engineer froze, a few steps from the hatch. The hairs rose on the back of my neck.
“Try again, Darla. Use the figure from input variables.”
“215.6 standard units.” Her tone had sharpened. “Anyway, mass isn’t a variable, it’s a fixed parameter.”
My glance was wild. The Pilot looked as if he’d seen a ghost. I swallowed. “What’s the CO 2 exchange rate, please?”