Chapter 12. These Are Serious Times, Dangerous Times
These Are Serious Times, Dangerous Times
After the hubbub of solar storms and interplanetary intrigue, the Eridanus headed into a fortnight of quiet travel through the humdrum of relatively empty space. Joanni played her clesig in sickbay when there were patients to comfort. When off duty, the library crew gathered in McKaye’s quarters or the library conference room for pinochle, with an occasional round of calliope if Joanni could convince them to suffer through losing to her once again. A couple of mini concerts for the crew and guest officials were organized to lighten the boredom and to practice for the upcoming final diplomatic embarkment with its attendant ISEA gala and official send-off to take place down on Border Starbase 19.
These rehearsal concerts, through the magical lure of the stage, gave rise to two love-struck admirers of the captivating clesig player: one immediately obvious, the other not. Ensign Richardson of Bio Lab III quickly took his shot with Joanni, and after being gently rebuffed, just as quickly got over his longing, and not too long after that, bonded with the lovely Ensign Branka of Food Services. Branka and Richardson quickly became a couple, two lovers seemingly made for each other. Joanni had to admit to being just a bit irked at being so quickly forgotten for someone apparently far more suitable, but it had no lasting impact on her as she had learned from Jackie to distrust the ardent desires of audiences. She remained unaware of her other admirer, a man who never had the courage to approach her, unaware that thoughts of her filled his waking hours and haunted his dreams. Her emotions were tied to the captain.
By the third week or so, Joanni’s claustrophobia had surfaced, ‘just a little bit.’ It was coming to get her, she felt, no matter how often she rotated between her quarters, the library, the gym; no matter how many times she paced the corridors. Although she had complained of there being no horizons, she could discern it approaching her over her internal horizon. She started to practice in the evenings on the observation deck which had several windows and a view of the shuttlecraft doors which would open now and then, giving the illusion of a breath of fresh air. She would bring her multi-track recording device and sing or strum along with one or more of the tracks, working out her arrangements. Sometimes she stayed there quite late, not wanting to return to her windowless quarters.
One such evening, Captain Chipman was returning from a beer with Matulis and decided to check on the repairs to one of shuttlecraft which had encountered asteroid debris. The sounds of a female voice wafted through the air, rising above the drone of the air conditioning and grabbed his attention. He followed it as one would do a scent or smoke, and came upon Joanni staring out at the stars and singing as if directly to them.
Anger and annoyance washed over Chipman. He struggled to corral his wayward thoughts of her, and evidently was unable to corral her actions. She did whatever she damn well pleased. His job was to protect her, and she had no idea of the outside forces aligned against her, no idea as Gillis had noted. For someone like Chipman, who called the shots, this was deeply disturbing. “What are you doing here so late?” he demanded without any preliminaries. He had startled her, badly. She shoved the clesig under one arm, and made a grab to turn off the recorder. In doing so, she stabbed herself with her fingerpick, badly enough that it broke the skin and caused her thumb to bleed. “You’re very isolated here. Anyone could come along.”
Now Joanni was agitated. “Anyone! Are you saying there’s no discipline among your crew? Is that how you run your ship?”
Joanni had not made many mistakes since coming onboard, but she made a big one here: telling the captain how to run his ship. For a normally calm and charming man, Chipman had an explosive temper, and he exploded at her now. “Yes, we run this entire goddamn galaxyship just for your entertainment, so you can playact going on an adventure. All for you! This is a military ship, on a classified mission; these are serious times, dangerous times. Try to be a serious person. This is not summer camp or a junior high school slumber party. Everything is all about how it’s affecting you. No responsibility or accountability. You want to traipse around at all hours, the working of the crew or mission be damned . . . when you’re on this ship and I give you an order, you follow it, is that clear?”
Her face red and hot with humiliation, her knees shaking, Joanni had a moment of revolting revelation, a realization of how she must come across to someone she held in such high regard. How childish and spoiled she appeared. Her feelings were all the sharper for the truth she recognized in the captain’s harsh words. “I’m so so sorry. You’re right. I won’t do anything like this again,” she said sadly but calmly, still unable to look him in the eye. “I really am grateful for all you’ve done . . .”
Chipman had already relented slightly. As Dr. Pissario later said, ‘he can be stern and irritable, but underneath he’s a pussycat.’
“Come on, I’ll walk you to your quarters.” When they got in the lift, and Joanni shifted her clesig case, he noticed her hand. “You’re bleeding. Here, let me hold that thing.”
“It’s nothing.” But she actually let him take the case.
“Go down to sickbay and let them take care of it,” he suggested.
“No. No. It’s nothing. I’ve bothered Dr. Pissario enough already. Just tell me where the first aid kit is in my quarters.”
“How have you bothered Pissario?”
Here she hesitated. “It’s a little cut, just needs to be washed and covered; just tell me where the first aid kit is, and I’ll bandage it.”
“Why would I know where the first aid kit is?”
She turned to him and smiled, “Don’t kid me, Captain. You know every inch of this ship, how everything works, where everything is.”
“How have you bothered our kindly doctor? Why are you seeing her? Obviously, you’re not telling me everything going on.”
Getting out of the lift, they walked down the hallway toward her quarters. The captain pressed her one more time on seeing Dr. Pissario. She told him about her claustrophobia, making light of it as far as that was possible. Chipman recounted to himself everything ISEA and Gillis had said, and his protective instincts for this girl rose higher. Was she an eager explorer or an unwilling participant; either way someone needed to look out for her, the thought that she was the one, that she was precious to him and needed to be guarded accordingly grew louder in his mind. “Did they pressure you? Did they?”
“Not exactly . . .”
“Did they or didn’t they? Were you pressured into coming on this mission or not? Stop dithering about it.”
Joanni spun to face her captain, stepped closer and looked up at him, irritated at having to admit to a truth that was the truth, yet was a truth she was not entirely certain of. She had had enough of facing truths tonight. “Yes, yes I was. And you know what? I’m glad I was because if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t have the pleasure of standing here being interrogated by you. . . Sir.”
Chipman felt she was being purposely provocative, pushing his buttons, and it was working. “For two cents, I’d like to take you over my knee and give you a good spanking,” he shot back and immediately regretted it.
It had the effect of shutting her up. Joanni stood there thinking over this last remark, then said. “I don’t know how to respond to that.”
“I apologize; it was badly spoken, forget I said it.”
Rather than accusing him of whatever he might be accused of, she smiled at him and said softly “Well, that’s not likely now, is it?” She ran hot and cold, this girl did, and he wasn’t sure what her objective was, but he had made up his mind about his.
When they got to her door, Chipman hovered there as if he would walk in with her.
“I think I can find my way from here.”
“Aren’t you gonna invite me in?” he asked in his most charming manner. “Unusual to be left on the doorstep.”
She tapped him on his chest. “Then we both have a lesson to learn tonight, don’t we?”
He gave her back her precious clesig which she put inside the door. When she turned around to say good night, he leaned in, took her chin in his hand and kissed her, gently, but with enough sensuality to make her want him to continue. He broke it off. “Good night, then.”
She smiled and closed the door, which he immediately buzzed open again. She was leaning back against the wall with her hands over her face, overwhelmed by the entire encounter. She jumped out of this telltale position, almost tripping over the clesig case on the floor in front of her and looked at the captain questioningly.
“Second drawer down on the left side of the dresser.” And with that, he shut the door in her face and walked down the hallway to the lift.
Joanni stood still for a minute, then understood. She went to her dresser, pointed two drawers down on the left, opened it and pulled out the first aid kit. She held it up to her face, lost in thought.
Image: Reluctant participant. Source: “The Cut Finger.” Anonymous, after design by David Wilkie. 1870 - 1900. Public domain. Edited by J. Weigley
That one was very cool, Julie.