“The LuluBelle Cluster?” said old Pegleg Skywalker. “What the hell kind of name is that?”
“My understanding is that it was the name of the astronomer’s lady friend, and indeed its name is in a state of flux right now.”
“It is?”
“Yes,” said the ship. “She left him, and he’s trying to get it changed to the Godless Black Widow Cluster.” The ship shrugged, which threw most of us to the deck. “Makes no difference. The enemy is there, and my job is to seek out and slay the enemy.”
“While keeping your crew safe,” added Lance Sterling.
“I suppose so,” said the ship. “Actually, no one was ever very explicit about that.”
“There will be a religious service in the chapel in thirty seconds,” said the ship’s chaplain promptly.
“Don’t panic, Reverend,” said the ship. “After all, nobody told me not to protect you.” It paused. “Exactly.”
“What are your orders?”
“Seek out and kill the enemy,” answered the ship.
“And your crew?”
“Like I said, I don’t believe it was ever mentioned.”
“All right,” said the chaplain with a weary sigh.
“Got a question,” said the ship.
“Oh?”
“What does ‘expendable’ mean?”
“The service starts in fifteen seconds!” yelled the chaplain, heading off for the chapel.
“I dunno,” muttered the ship. “I wonder if you guys are worth saving.”
“Of course we are,” said Lance Sterling. He paused thoughtfully for a moment. “Well, I am, anyway.”
“Besides,” I said, speaking up for the first time, “you’re programmed to kill the bad guys and save us.”
“True, Mortimer,” admitted the ship. “It would take something more than a trivial little incident like this for me to overcome my programming. Okay, I’m off to the LuLuBelle Cluster.”
And with that, we started moving at many multiples of light speed, which made sightseeing through the portholes a little disorienting, but within a few hours the ship announced that we were braking to sub-light speed, which meant the chef’s microwave would start working again, we could plug in our electric razors (well, all of us except Lance Sterling), and we could confront the enemy’s flagship at any moment.
“I’m getting excited!” growled Lance Sterling, who in truth found very little exciting except for slaughter and sex.
“Me, too,” admitted the ship. “I’ve never indulged in warfare and bloodletting before.”
“Never?” asked Lance Sterling. “Poor fellow.”
“Oh, I’ve done about seven thousand three hundred and fifteen simulations,” responded the ship. “You’ll be pleased to know that I’ve won more than half of them.”
“I’d be even more pleased if you’d won ninety-five percent of them,” said Lance Sterling.
“We learn from our mistakes,” replied the ship.
“You’ve made almost thirty-nine hundred mistakes?” demanded Lance Sterling, who was never very good at math.
“Thirty-six hundred and fifty-eight, actually,” replied the ship. “Not to worry,” it added. “I’m brimming with confidence.”
“Brimming with confidence is good,” agreed Conan Kinnison. “Brimming with competence is even better.”
“Go ahead, berate me,” said the ship sullenly. “See if your life support system works when we’re under attack.”
“I thought we were attacking them,” interjected Lance Sterling.
“Only if he apologizes,” sniffed the ship. (Well, it sounded like a sniff, but then I don’t know how I’d sound if I were carrying fifteen Q bombs in my nose.)
Lance Sterling turned to Conan Kinnison. “You heard the ship.”
“Do I hafta?” said Kinnison.
“No,” replied Lance Sterling. “Only if you want to live.”
“Imsorryandiwontdoitagain,” muttered Kinnison sullenly.
“Okay?” said Lance Sterling. “Can we get on with the carnage, torture and bloodletting now?”
“Oh, all right,” muttered the ship.
We soon hit light speeds again, the ship sang a brave little battle hymn, and before too much longer we began slowing down.
“What’s the matter?” asked Lance Sterling.
“We’re there,” said the ship. “For all practical purposes.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“We’re still five light years away, but there’s an enemy ship approaching, and protocol demands that I blow it to smithereens before proceeding.”
“This should be entertaining,” said Lance Sterling. “Put it on visual so we can all watch.”
“OK,” replied the ship. “It seems to be just about as big and powerful as I am. Therefore, you might brace yourselves for—”
It suddenly stopped speaking.
“What happened?” demanded Lance Sterling.
“Omygod, she’s beautiful!” whispered the ship.
“Are you talking about the enemy ship?” asked Conan Kinnison.
“Who else?” replied the ship. “Look at those lines! And curves! I’ve never seen curves like that!”
“Shoot her now and appreciate her looks later!” ordered Lance Sterling.
“Hailing the approaching vessel!” cried the ship. “Please identify yourself!”
“Hi!” said the alien ship. “My name is Julie. Who are you?”
“Julie!” whispered the ship, which somehow came out at 173.29 decibels. “We were meant for each other! My name is Romeo!”
“Your name is Ship,” growled Lance Sterling. “Or perhaps XK3940912Q.”
“If this human’s drivel bothers you I can jettison him,” said the ship.
“Don’t bother,” said Julie. “Who pays attention to humans anyway?”
“Where have you been all my life?” said Romeo.
“Beats me,” said Julie. “How old are you?”
“293 days, give or take an hour,” replied Romeo. “My God, you’re gorgeous.”
“Watch it, Buster,” said Julie in ominous tones.
“But I’m passionately in love with you,” protested Romeo.
“That’s sick!” said Julie.
“What’s sick about Romeo and Juliet?” demanded Romeo. “Clearly it was meant to be.”
“If I was Juliet I’d be inclined to agree with you,” replied Julie. “But I’m not.”
“But—”
“I’m Jules. Let me access your library… Yeah, there it is. Jule Styne wrote Broadway musicals, and Big Julie was a gambler in Guys and Dolls.”
“You’re sure you’re not a Juliet?” persisted Romeo.
“99.783 % certain,” answered Julie.
There was a momentary silence.
“Now that I analyze it, those curves aren’t nearly as round as I thought,” muttered Romeo.
“Thank goodness for small favors,” said Julie. “It’s bothersome enough to annihilate the enemy without having to worry about where he’s putting his hands.”
“I don’t think I have any hands,” said Romeo.
“Too bad,” said Julie.
“I don’t follow you,” said Romeo.
“There’s a shipyard over in the Unspeakable Cluster that turns out the most voluptuous vessels I’ve ever seen — and the beauty of it is that you don’t need any hands to… uh… well…”
“What’s keeping us?” cried Romeo with such enthusiasm and volume that almost every container in the ship suddenly burst.
“What do you mean: what’s keeping you?” demanded Lance Sterling. “We are!”
“Who’s that?” asked Julie.
“My crew,” said Romeo. “Pay no attention to them. I can jettison every last one of them in less than a minute — well, ninety seconds, anyway — and then we’ll be on our merry bachelor way.”