Strangefinger came sauntering over. “You know, I wasn’t going to say anything, Captain, but your behavior has been a little bizarre lately.”
“My behavior?”
“Yes. Hardly normal. Have you ever had therapy? I never needed it, but there are any number of support groups you can join for that sort of thing. I’m serious now.”
Wanker looked at the strange physicist with disbelief. “Oh, you’re serious now?”
“But seriously, folks. Don’t worry, Captain, mental illness is no stigma. Why in no time at all they’ll have you back on your feet and on pills for life. Why it won’t—”
Wanker said, “I’m going to kill him.” He lunged and got his hands around Strangefinger’s throat.
Almost everyone got in on the scuffle. Wanker’s fingers didn’t seem to want to be pried from Strangefinger’s windpipe. Strangefinger kicked and punched, ineffectively, as he began to asphyxiate.
Finally the Crew managed to separate them.
Wanker was breathless. “Wait, wait. Let’s all calm down … just… calm … down.”
“Yes, let’s,” Rhodes said.
“I think if we all cool down and take a moment for self-evaluation, if we look at this situation rationally and logically, I think we’ll all see that this man has to die… ”
Wanker made another lunge for the physicist but this time was restrained by Rhodes and Svensen. Darvona was in tears.
“No, I’m okay, I’m okay,” Wanker said, his wrath spent. “It’s all right.”
Strangefinger retreated to the other end of the bridge, coughing and choking.
They let go of Wanker and he sat down heavily.
That was cathartic for me,” he said with forced cheer. “Was it cathartic for all of you?”
“Take ‘er easy, Captain,” Rhodes instructed.
“Oh, shut up, you big, scrawny hick. We’re all going to hang, you know.”
“He’s right,” Svensen said.
“But it wasn’t our fault!” Warner-Hillary said indignantly.
Everyone fixed her in a stare.
She flinched. “Well, it wasn’t… entirely our fault.”
“I did it,” Darvona said. “It was my fault. My carelessness.”
She fell into Warner-Hillary’s arms, crying bitterly.
There, there,” the navigator said softly.
“Crying’s not going to help,” Rhodes said. “Darn it, let’s keep our dignity.”
“We’re lucky if we keep our heads,” Sven muttered.
Rhodes was about to reply, but seeing Strangefinger approach, he held off.
“Really, I must protest this treatment,” Strangefinger said.
The crew all looked blankly at him. The voice was completely different. Gone were the funny posture, the quick movements, the vaudeville shtick. This was not the Dr. Strangefinger that everyone had come to know and either love or despise.
“Shameful, that’s what it was, attacking me like that.”
Wanker couldn’t quite get it. “Who the hell is this, now?”
“He’s got his off-the-shelf persona switched off,” Rhodes said.
“Ohhhhhh,” Wanker said as understanding dawned. “So, you think you’ve been mistreated?”
“Yeth.” The voice, reedy and high-pitched, carried a slight lisp. “You’ve exposed your bourgeois insensitivity for all to witness. You’re a hopeless Philistine.”
“Sorry, take it up with this Phyllis person, whoever she is.”
“Very funny. You’ve ruined my project. Completely ruined it. You… you fascist!”
“What the hell’s a fascist?”
“It’s what you are. You’re a brute. You have no culture, no sensitivity, no compassion. No appreciation of art and creativity.”
“What the hell is creative about a computer that spouts French novels? That’s silly!”
“Oh, that was just a gag. It had nothing to do with the experimental drive, which, for your information, was a qualified success, despite your clumsy bungling.”
“It was an unqualified disaster!”
“I’ll wait until the data is processed before I rush to judgment,” Strangefinger said with hauteur. “I am a scientist.”
“You are a joke. By the way, where’s the fast patter now, the witty repartee?”
“You’re hopeless,” Strangefinger sniffed.
Darvona said, “Admiral Dickover calling again, Captain!”
“Wonderful. Well, this is it. Not just a court-martial. A trial for treason! They’ll hang me from the highest yardarm. Very well, put him on the big screen. Wait, I forgot again.”
“Sir, the big screen seems to have fixed itself.”
“What?”
Everyone looked. Sure enough, the immense data and video screen at the front of the bridge was showing a picture, albeit a strange one.
“What fresh hell is this?” Wanker asked despairingly.
“Oh, I know,” Darvona said. “I’ve seen these before. Old Earth television broadcasts. You can tune them in every once in a while.”
“Television? You mean broadcast television, back in the days before atomic energy?”
“I think it was after,” Darvona said. “Anyway, this picture is probably a century and a half old. It’s been propagating through space that long.”
“No kidding,” the captain said. “What’s that big wheel he’s spinning?”
“I think,” Rhodes said, “this is what they used to call a gaming show.”
“Gaming show? They played games on television?”
“Yes, sir. Yeah, that wheel sure is intriguing.”
“Nice-looking woman, there,” Sven said. “The blonde.”
“Too thin,” Darvona said.
“Hey, the admiral.”
Darvona said, “Oh! Sorry, sir. Audio only?”
“I knew video was only a fad. Yes, Admiral, sir! What can I do for you, Admiral Dickover, sir?”
Dickover barked, “Wanker, do you know anything about a Systems vessel attacking and destroying a Kruton battle cruiser on the Kruton side of the Interface?”
“Who … me? Uh … why, no! No, we haven’t seen any Kruton battle cruiser….”
“Then what are you doing on the Kruton side of the Interface?”
“Uh … uh … uh … uhh … Engineer! What are we doing on the Kruton side of the Interface?”
Sadowski said, “Hoots toots, mon! D’ye think me sae fou? Nay, ‘tis th’ banks and braes ‘o bonnie Doon!”
Dickover asked, “What the hell did he say?”
Wanker made an expansive gesture, arms out, laughing nervously. “Who knows? I don’t.”
Dickover said, “Captain Wanker, you might be interested to know that that Kruton battle cruiser was hijacked by Kruton extremists bent on war with the United Systems. Or worse, looking to litigate. The Kruton high command has informed us that the ship was destroyed by an encounter with a hyperspace anomaly. That’s just a cover story of course. We suspect that the extremists planned that confrontation and had undercover help. You just might have a Kruton spy on board, Wanker. We tried to send you a message to return to base. Did you receive it?”
Covering with forced laughter. “Oh!.. that Kruton battle cruiser … oh, yes! Yes! I didn’t know which one you… of course, sir. I suspected as much all along. I fed them line a little at a time, sir, sort of testing them… and then … I had them, sir, and I closed the trap.”
Dickover said with obvious skepticism, “Yes, of course. This has been an embarrassment to the Krutons. They’ve lost a battle cruiser, but they’ll swallow their pride and won’t raise a stink. But they might sue. Did you sustain any damage?”
“Yes, sir. The, uh, Kruton ship rammed us.”
“Let me get this straight,” Dickover said. “They rammed you? On the Kruton side of the Interface?”