Getting Down to Business
When Joanni first stepped off the transporter deck and assured Captain Chipman that her luggage was full of books rather than clothes, she was being truthful, but not entirely truthful. Also packed among her things was a box of dry ice frozen pies and other foodstuffs. Soon after settling in, she wandered through the kitchens of the Eridanus, particularly the VIP/Officer canteen, to ascertain the lay of the land. When the diplomatic delegation came on board with their own huge stash of formal entertainment supplies, she knew she was going to be in business. Not that she had culinary career ambitions, but years of traveling in semi-cargo vessels and surviving on greenroom riders while on tour taught Joanni to look out for her long-term health and happiness. First a reconciliation, then a burgeoning friendship with Brennan began to materialize when she realized that Gillis’ assistant had some kind of in with food services, and was a little bit of an operator. The two commenced to work together, the end result being a nice little cooking setup in one corner of Joanni’s quarters.
Along with the library/pinochle cohort, Tom Chipman soon became a beneficiary of this situation via Joanni’s offer of slices of dropeberry pie—the closest thing to taste on Earth would be mulberry—and green suni fruit bars. Just as she was able to engage his mind with her mental faculties, so she enticed him with her various offerings from her corner kitchen.
Now with the final officials aboard and the diplomatic roster complete, the vast expanse of known space that made the first weeks of travel relatively routine was behind them. Ahead, the full danger of the unknown, as the Eridanus headed toward the edge of mapped space and beyond. An initial briefing was held between the full diplomatic delegation and the captain and his officers. Ambassador Gillis wasted no time proving Joanni’s contention that he was the real ‘pain in the butt.’ He ignored her when she spoke and interrupted her so often that Chipman called him on it, suggesting he let her speak. The meeting broke up and the two men met at the door. “All it takes is a little civility, Gillis,” Chipman told him softly before pushing past him on his way back to the bridge. Whenever the ambassador referred to Chipman in front of Joanni after this, he referred to him as ‘your boyfriend.’
Meanwhile, Brennan was having her trouble with Mrs. Gillis, who, fortunately for all, was to remain on Border Starbase 19 after the gala and reside there for the duration of the mission. Mathea Gillis was not careful with other people’s feelings, other people’s dreams or their sorrows, all of which she had an uncanny ability to discern and exploit. She too picked up on the affection growing between the captain and Joanni. If she thought she had gained a sympathetic ear with her husband’s assistant, or that Brennan was eager to help herself get ahead by helping Mrs. Gillis manipulate this attraction, she was mistaken. “Leave them alone; they’re happy. They don’t need your instructions,” Brennan told Mrs. Gillis after ignoring a couple of the older woman’s pointed remarks.
Two nights before the gala, the captain called in his rain check. “Yes,” Joanni said, “That would be pleasant—a little nightcap, getting to know each other better, nothing more, nothing less.” Then again, more pointedly, “Nothing less, nothing more.” The captain made no reply. “Too presumptuous?” she suggested.
They smiled at each other. “I’m off duty at 19:00,” Chipman said.
When the captain arrived that evening, the first thing he noticed was that Joanni was walking around with bare feet. Simultaneously, he noticed how shapely her feet were, how pretty her polished toes. ‘Some provocation here?’ he wondered.
Diplomatic quarters were larger than crew quarters. Joanni had a small living area off her bedroom furnished with a small sofa and a long table which was covered with her research materials in addition to the regulation desk and data pad. “Here, sit down,” she said, motioning to the side of the couch closest to and facing her kitchenette. “We’ll call this the non-captain seating area. No duties here, no responsibilities, no stress. You can just sit here and do nothing. Think nothing. Just be Tom Chipman. Thomas Randolph Chipman.”
“You know that—my middle name?" he asked.
She was a little flustered having been caught yet again. “Well, I don’t know. I must have read it on some paperwork.”
“Did you ever get in contact with your sister?”
“Yes, but I haven’t heard back from her. I’ve let her decide whether or not to tell Mom. I’ve always been a disappointment to my mother.” In response to Chipman’s questioning look, Joanni explained briefly her aborted concert pianist career and her mother’s desires. They sat close together, chatting about this and that (and for the most part on more positive subjects than parental frustrations), with the rising feeling of finding someone who got it, who thought and felt with a similar reach, who shared the same optimism and values.
He turned to her and kissed her. This time it felt different. He didn’t do something to her; he didn’t kiss her, they shared a kiss. They did something, were something, together; relaxing into each other.
“Want something to eat?”
“Sure.”
They laughed softly at themselves. Chipman watched her back as she warmed up and cut a piece of pie for him and poured him a drink, feeling this is what he would be looking for if he allowed him himself to: stability, comfort, respect, understanding. He did feel at home in a way, relaxed. He was so tired, had been tired for so long. He would just shut his eyes for a second, see if the feeling remained when he opened them again.
“Here you go, pie and a whisky. And water, you’re probably de . . .” Joanni turned toward the man sitting on her couch and saw that he had fallen fast asleep.
Image: Berry offerings. Source: Annual report of the Fruit Growers' Association of Ontario, 1900. Wikimedia Commons