Peggy Sue (The T'aafhal Inheritance) (22 page)

After a smattering of applause, the attendees began wandering off in pairs and small groups. Elena remained at the podium, overwhelmed by the knowledge that the stars she had just named were not just abstract objects in space—not anymore. In a few months, she would be on board the Peggy Sue, on her way to visit those alien suns.

De Belcour’s Quarters, Farside Base

Jean-Jacques sat at his apartment’s desk, talking with his boss at the UN. “No, Madam Secretary, I have not had the chance to contact you previously,” the bureaucrat lied smoothly. “The Captain has only now eased the terms of my incarceration and allowed me access to a means of communication.” There was no reason for the Secretary to know he could have called almost a month earlier. “I fear that the scoundrel has plans to keep me captive in this horrid cave indefinitely. Please, you must try to reason with the man, and get him to release me.”

“M. de Belcour, why would we do that?” replied the UNOOSA Secretary. “You are the only one we have on the inside of this rogue organization. I discussed this with the Secretary General and he and the Security Council think it prudent to keep you in place.”

Jean-Jacques was dumbstruck. It never occurred to him that the UN would not try to secure his release. “
Mon Dieu
, Madam Secretary, you do not understand how vile this place is! It is hacked out of rock in an old volcano. The atmosphere could be lost in an instant without warning. The staff is hostile and the place is overrun with genetically engineered freaks,
gigantesques ours polaires,
that talk!”

“Have these giant talking polar bears attacked you, M. de Belcour? You seem in fine health, and it sounds like you are free to gather useful information. No, your mission is to remain in place, the UN’s liaison with the space pirates.”

Merde! They will not even try to help me,
Jean-Jacques realized. “So I am to be left to my fate? They are overhauling their vessel and planning a reconnaissance mission to a number of nearby stars. What if the Captain decides to drag me along on their next mission?”

“Monsieur, if there is any way for you to be on that voyage I am ordering you to go. In fact, you might wish to slowly let them win you over to their side. A ruse, you understand?”

“To what end? I may never return!”

“In which case we will place a nice placard in the UNOOSA Headquarters lobby in your honor. No, M. de Belcour, you have your orders: you will be on that next voyage.” The line went dead as the UN official hung-up. Jean-Jacques sat in front of the computer display slack-jawed, his only thought was,
I am so screwed.
 

Base Canteen, Farside Base, later that Evening

Lcdr. Curtis and Dr. Tropsha had transferred their shipboard habit of having an evening cocktail together from Peggy Sue’s lounge to the base canteen. In truth, the canteen was nearly as well appointed as the ship’s bar and dining area, with a sumptuous mahogany bar and numerous tables, artfully arranged to provide parties of varying sizes whatever degree of privacy they desired. The duo was sitting at a table with an impressive view of the main atrium, with its waterfall and landscaped jungle.

The two women, both coming from military backgrounds, had found each other’s company comfortable from their first voyage on board Peggy Sue. Now, having come through the trials and tribulations of that first voyage, including weathering a number of personal emotional storms, they were best friends. All that was missing this evening was the presence of Susan Write, the third member of their tight knit circle. As thoughts of Susan, aka Peggy Sue, occurred to both women simultaneously their eyes met. Raising her glass, Gretchen, said “to absent companions.”

“Absent companions,” replied Ludmilla in Russian, downing her drink. She looked around the bar area, noting the large number of strangers. They were construction workers, engineers and administrative types from the base. Their presence served to remind Ludmilla that, after years of distancing herself from the Russian Federation Air Forces, she was once again a military officer.

After signaling to the waitress that they needed another round, she turned back to Gretchen and said, “I have not thought much about it before, but you never make friends in civilian life like you do in the military.”

Gretchen drained her glass and considered the remark for a moment before replying. “Probably because civilians, with the possible exception of police and firefighters, seldom have to depended on each other for their lives in the face of hostile action. When you have fought for your life alongside someone a bond is formed, even if you don’t particularly like the other person.”

“Yes, I suppose you are right, Gretchen. Look, here comes the Italian astronomer, Dr. Piscopia. We should ask her to sit with us, since she is to become a shipmate.”

“Sure,” Gretchen said, waving and calling out “Dr. Piscopia, over here!” This caught the astronomer’s eye and she headed in their direction, much to the disappointment of the men standing at the bar.

“Good evening Commander, Doctor,” Elena said, arriving at the table. “How are you this evening?” The science section dark burgundy jumpsuit went well with her Mediterranean coloration, though she still yearned for high heels. The Italian astronomer gracefully slid into an empty chair.

“Good evening, Dr. Piscopia,” replied Gretchen, “and according to tradition first names are used in the wardroom. Call me Gretchen.”

“Excellent, you must call me Elena.” Looking around, she said, “I do miss the night life in Padua. This is as close to an open air cafe as one will find on the Moon, I suppose.”

“I’m afraid this is the only cafe on the Moon, period,” replied Gretchen. “By the way, I was wondering why your colleagues call you Elena, is it a middle name?”

“Middle name? Oh, I understand,” Elena answered. She paused to order a drink from the highly attentive waitress and then continued. “There is a story behind that. You see, in the 17
^th
century there was a Venetian noblewoman named Elena Lucrezia Cornaro Piscopia who attended the University of Padua. Not only was it unusual for a woman to attend university at that time, Elena was the first woman to receive a Doctorate degree.”

“Really?” said Ludmilla, “when was that?”

“In 1678. The degree was conferred on June 25
^th
in the cathedral of Padua. Of course, she was first tested by the faculty professors and University authorities in the front of the public. Reportedly, the crowd included most of the Senators of Venice, invited guests from the Universities of Bologna, Perugia, Rome, and Naples, along with many students and town’s people. She spoke for an hour in classical Latin, a discourse on the works of Aristotle. Evidently her erudition was sufficiently impressive that she was award the Doctorate of Philosophy. At age thirty-two, she was the first woman in the world to receive a doctorate degree. In addition to the degree, Elena Piscopia received the doctor’s ring, the teacher’s ermine cape, and the poet’s laurel crown.”

“Most impressive, are you a descendant of this lady?” asked Gretchen.

“She died childless and as far as I know we are not related,” answered Elena, pausing for a second to accept a Campari and soda from the returning waitress. “But when I joined the faculty at Padua the similarity of my name, Lucrezia Piscopia, and that of the famous Lady Cornaro prompted some of my colleagues to start calling me Elena. Since I never much cared for Lucrezia, I quickly became Elena and that is how my friends all know me.”

“That is a fascinating story, Elena. Most people do not have such an intriguing tale to go with their names,” said Ludmilla. “In my case my grandmother was named Ludmilla. Not nearly as glamorous as being the namesake of the first woman to earn a PhD.”

“Use of that famous name—famous at least in Italian academic circles—helped me get an educational television show for a couple of years,” Elena said, smiling wistfully at the memory. “That and a short skirt and high heels.”

“I remember that show,” said Gretchen, “that was about ten years ago, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, don’t remind me,” replied Elena rolling her eyes. “Time waits for no one. Do you know, I am older now than the original Elena Piscopia lived to be? She died at 38, from tuberculosis.”

“Most people, even well educated nobles, did not live long four centuries ago,” commented Ludmilla. “The average person today lives better and longer than the upper classes back then.”

“Believe me, Ludmilla, I would not trade my life for hers under any circumstance. Besides, I am going to see the stars—not many people have their fondest dreams come true.”

“That’s true, I hope one day to captain my own starship,” added Gretchen, a faraway look in her eyes.

“Seems we are all finding our dreams because of the Peggy Sue. Tell me, Ludmilla, how did you come to ensnare the affections of our Captain?”

Sensing a hint of challenge, Ludmilla’s eyes flashed. “It was he who pursued me, my dear. After he came to our rescue on the ISS—Ivan Kondratov, Yuki Saito and myself—he proceeded to woo me with tales of scientific marvels and space aliens. Being a skeptical scientist, I demanded proof.”

This elicited a snort from Gretchen. “I have never seen someone play hard to get by publicly calling her would be suitor clinically insane.”

“It was all part of a winning stratagem,” Ludmilla said haughtily. “Eventually, the Captain sent Gretchen, Bear and a party of Marines into a crater on the Moon to bring me back proof of alien life.”

This time it was Gretchen’s turn to roll her eyes. “We should all be wearing boots, ‘cause it’s getting deep in here.”

“This was the battle with the spider things, si?”

“Exactly, Elena. Well, after going to such lengths to convince me of his story I could no longer deny his advances. We fell into each other’s arms and have been lovers ever since.”

“È meraviglioso! What a wonderful romantic tale,” said Elena, smiling. “It is not every woman who gets to be rescued from death by a dashing captain who then falls in love with her. And you are in love with him too, si?”

“Absolutely. He was a part of my heart that I did not know was missing until I met him. And what about you, Elena? Are you leaving someone back on Earth?”

“No, not really. The fire had gone out of my last affair of the heart some time ago. Now our coming voyage of discovery is consuming my thoughts and I doubt I have time for a new relationship.”

“You may change your mind when we get into alter-space,” Gretchen said. “Nothing to do but run drills, drink in the wardroom and watch old videos from home.”

“I am starting a self-defense class in Spetsnaz Systema. It is like Judo and wrestling combined. Most of the crew women are going to participate,” Ludmilla said to Elena. “You should join. It will help you keep your figure during the trip…”

Training Gym, Farside Base

A mixed crowd of men and polar bears were gathered in a semicircle facing three humans. Two of the humans were officers: Lcdr. Curtis and Lt. Taylor. The third was Gunnery Sergeant Rodriguez, the ranking Marine. All wore battle armor, including the bears.

“OK, listen up people,” said Lcdr. Curtis. “Our purpose here today is to work out any kinks in the new ursine armor. As you know, the inner environmental suits contain nanites that help them self-adjust to their wearers. Unfortunately, the composite ceramic outer armor must be manually fitted to each individual. The only way to find out if a suit fits well is to run through some real-world activities. Since the purpose of the armor is to protect its wearer during combat, we are going to engage in some simulated combat.” The Commander turned and said, “Gunny?”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” then addressing the would be combatants, the Gunny said, “You have exercised in these suits before so you are familiar with them. Today we are going to play a game called ‘capture the flag’ in which we will divide into two teams. Each team will contain an equal number of bears and humans.”

The four humans standing with the bears just happened to be the four walrus deliverymen: PFC Joey Sanchez, Able Spacer Steve Hitch and Petty Officers Phil Kowalski and Bud Jones. They looked at each other and then at the bears, who stared back curiously. 

“Since there are three full grown males, we will try to balance out the mass inequality by putting all three adult females on the same team. We will also divide the ex-SEALs between the teams so they won’t have the advantage of having worked together closely in the past. So, on this side of the gym I want Bear, Inuksuk, Umky, Imik, Siku, Kowalski and Hitch. On the other side, Tornassuk, Isbjørn, Aurora, Snowflake, Aput, Sanchez and Jones.” The bears sat there looking about expectantly.

“DON’T JUST SIT ON YOUR ASSES! MOVE OUT!” the Gunny bellowed, the volume inside the suit helmets almost deafening. There was a sudden scramble of men and bears for the far ends of the gym. “When you get to your end of the gym you will find a box of colored armbands. Put one on the forelimb of your choice.”

The male dominated team drew the green armbands and the females the orange. Over the common frequency, Lcdr. Curtis spoke again. “Alright, the rules are simple, on either end of this space there is a flag, a square piece of material the same color as your armbands. Your task is to prevent the other team from stealing your flag and carrying it back to their territory, as marked by the center line in front of me. You will have five minutes to plan a strategy. When you hear the tone, the game is on…”

Chapter 11

Captain’s Office, Farside Base

The desk chimed, a melodious bonging sound, requesting the Captain’s attention. “Yes?” he answered. The voice of his administrative aid, an efficient young man named Jimmy, emanated from somewhere over the desk. “Sir, Ms. Muñoz and Mrs. Hinkle are here.”

Oh what fun! Complaints from the kindergarten teacher and the students’ mothers,
Jack thought. Being a captain at sea was the greatest experience of his life, being a captain on shore one of the worst. As he stood up to greet his guests he answered, “Thank you, Jimmy. Please send them in.”