A Pattern of Details Read online

  "N-no. Not at all."

  Morris turned his attention back to the parts before him, picked up his penlaser and started back to work. He felt her lean in and put her arm on the back of his chair but he maintained concentration.

  "For truth," said Lace softly when he paused, "I came to bring you to lunch. You skipped it yesterday and we can't have you wasting away."

  Morris felt her lean even closer. He concentrated as hard as he could on the control strip before him.

  "Of course if we stay here much longer the others may think we decided to do something else."

  Focus! Concentrate! A cold, solid bundle of nerves froze Morris' stomach and started moving out from it.

  "Y'know, if I don't leave soon they might just be right."

  The knot inside Morris clenched, he jumped and the small laser slipped. Before the beam died it took a nick out of his finger.

  "Oh Morris!" Concern flooded Lace's voice. "Morris, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to... Flames. Let me look at that."

  While Morris tried hard to speak Lace grabbed his hand and examined the small wound. He still hadn't managed to speak when she stepped into his 'fresher and brought out the small aid kit there.

  "I'm so sorry, hon," she said, "I didn't know you were wound that tight."

  Despite his feeble protests Lace cleaned and sealed the small wound. When she looked up her eyes were filled with warmth, sincerity and sympathy.

  "I hope that didn't hurt too much," she said genuinely.

  "I'm... It's fine. I've had... worse than that."

  "So am I forgiven?"

  Morris managed a nod.

  "Polar." She stood, took Morris' uninjured hand and tucked it under her arm, "Let's go eat."

  Lace kept Morris arm intertwined with hers all the way to the lounge. Fortunately she stayed silent; he knew he'd make no sense at all if he tried to speak. The pit of his stomach unfroze and hollowed as she didn't release his arm when they entered.

  The others, minus Blakeschiff, Keyson and Harper, sat around the main table with their meals. Lace drew plates and chog for both of them and Morris felt his face flush as Jackson noted this and grinned.

  As Morris feared the meal turned into an ordeal. While Morris managed to avoid conversation Jackson joined it gleefully. He interspersed what he said with multiple references to temperature and the acquisition thereof. Morris face heated with each one and Jackson barely left him time to recover before making another one. Lace intuited something wrong, traced it to Jackson and told the big man to stop it. That only embarrassed Morris more.

  After lunch Lace dashed Morris' hopes for a quick escape. The conversation turned to politics and government, which Morris avoided avidly, and as soon as he cleared his and Lace's dishes she snagged his arm and pulled him toward a seat.

  "... but that's what I'm saying," said Jackson, unconcerned that his assertions had no logic, "The Imperium was no more despotic than the League and Guilds. No offense." He gave a brief nod and smile toward Kody and Morris.

  "You are totally wrong," argued Lace, "The Imperium demanded and took total control over every aspect of its citizens' lives. It maintained total control over all trade, even between continents on its planets. It also restricted travel almost to the point of nonexistence. It was a monster that choked off most of its own productivity with totalitarian control and excessive regulation. Humanity cannot stand oppression and the Imperium was the most oppressive society in human history!"

  "Conceded," smiled Jackson, "but look at the life of the average Imperial citizen.

  "The Imperium maintained a titanium rule, no blather there, but its citizens enjoyed a lifestyle better than some League citizens do today. It might have controlled its citizenry but it also cared for them. Look at Caustik."

  Lace frowned at that. A long-term League member, Caustik caused quite a scandal last year when ENW broke the story of its military and how it treated its citizens.

  "Under the auspices of our own League senate," continued Jackson, "Caustik routinely oppresses and brutalizes its population. Even its 'highcarders' don't live as well as the average person on Dracos yet by its own Charter and Articles the League will do nothing about it."

  "Phase down, Jared," said Harkin, who rarely spoke, "The League is doing something there. Any citizens who aren't happy where they are are given free access to leave the planet."

  "An empty offer," countered Jackson, "Despite the Guilds' education initiatives most of the folks there remain woefully ignorant of what they could have elsewhere. I don't know of any systems that contraband Caustik exports so they have no motivation to change. It benefits the local government that its populace is ignorant so ignorant it will remain. Even at its worst the Imperium took care of its people. That care might have been impersonal but it was universal."

  "One example," said Lace, "One example of one oppressive League system. What about Adrastea? The only government there is the Patrol at the starport and a handful of Guild Arbiters for the entire planet! Crime there is almost nonexistent and even the poorest citizens live ruddy well!"

  "So the world is controlled by corporate interests and the Merchant's Guild," said Jackson cheerfully, "I wondered when you'd mention it."

  Morris endured the conversation stoically. Every time he thought to leave Lace sensed his fidgets, reached out and held him there. At least, he thought, Jackson was too occupied to jibe him. He and Lace sat on a couch easily large enough for four yet she had him pinned against the armrest. While not unpleasant that did nothing for his nerves.

  "There is one thing you cannot deny," said Morris, his mouth working on its own. The others looked at him.

  "The Imperium collapsed," he said, "Had it been a viable and acceptable government it would have endured and would still be in place today. By constraining its population it sowed the seeds of its own demise. The League places the absolute minimum of rules and restrictions and most of those are in place to prevent trade exploitation. The League is here and the Imperium is not."

  "But Caustik may revolt and secede from the League," said Jackson.

  "And," asked Morris, glad to get in a good sting, "Worlds may come and go but the League remains. It won't collapse because it's too strong and its citizens know what would happen if it weakens."

  Silence.

  "Good point," said Lace finally. Harkin and Kody added their assent and Jackson, sensing defeat, conceded with a grin.

  "But I shall have a rebuttal," promised Jackson.

  With every intent of finishing his equipment Morris nonetheless found himself and Lace in a game of two-across with Harkin and Kody. Jackson wandered aft with a humorous comment about research.

  After four games, the last of which Morris played abysmally, Kody pled duty and departed. Lace squeezed Morris' hand.

  "I know you have something on your mind, hon," she smiled gently, "Go fix your machines."

  Chapter 3. Problems Solved

  Morris' hands were sure and steady and before long his mind wandered. Morris set aside the problem of Keyson and concentrated on his interactions with Lace and the others. After a fashion he enjoyed the meal and subsequent discussion and even found himself warming slightly to Jackson.

  Some time later Morris' door beeped. He mumbled a 'come-in' but nothing happened. A few minutes later it beeped again. Puzzled, he extricated himself from his almost-assembled gear. If someone had equipment trouble they'd have 'commed and Lace would simply have entered.

  Lydia Keyson stood outside when Morris opened the door.

  "Hi," she said, "May I come in?"

  He stood aside.

  "Thanks." She took a deep breath and looked down, seeming uncertain as to her words. "Technician, I want to apologize."

  What? Morris hoped his amazement didn't show.

  "What I did this morning was out of line and unprofessional, I have no excuse for why it happened and I'm sorry." Now she did look up and Morris saw considerable relief in her expression.

  Morris nodd
ed slightly, the only movement he could prod his body to make. Keyson's expression tightened and she made to leave.

  "Wait." To Morris it seemed another person spoke with his voice. "What... What made you so angry?"

  If Morris' question surprised her it stunned him.

  "It... I reported a minor variance within the engines. Well within tolerances, dammit, and not worth any problems to any other commander in the Navy. Not the Steel Ba... ahem. Not Commander Blakeschiff, though. He told me that any such variance was unacceptable and that I should fix it. What's more, he said, if I couldn't handle it then I should avail myself of the certified Tech who so fortunately happened to be aboard."

  "Oh," said Morris. It really wasn't his fault!

  "Yeah. So I really am sorry I blew all over you. In fact if you're still willing I'd love to have your help."

  "Certainly!" Not his fault at all.

  "Polar," she smiled, "Then I'll see you in that unholy thing called morning?"

  "Deal!" Morris stuck out his hand. She shook it with a quick giggle, turned and left.

  Not much later Lace came to fetch Morris for dinner.

  "You seem at peace with the galaxy," she smiled.

  "I am."

  "Good. You worked out whatever was bothering you?"

  "Yes."

  "Polar. Then there's no excuse for not scorching Jared at Stratagem, truth?"

  Morris nodded.

  Lace kept the conversation at dinner light and neutral and afterward she and Morris did manage to hand Jackson, Harkin and Praetor Kody a sizzling defeat. Lace lifted a single eyebrow as she buffed her nails on her shirt.

  ***

  "Good morning, Tech." Keyson flashed a smile. "I have hot chog if you want some."

  "No thanks," said Morris, "What would you like me to do?"

  "Well, with the extra service on the engines I didn't have a chance to post-jump the L-drive. You mind? It would go a lot faster with two."

  "Done!"

  Keyson finished her chog quickly as Morris tore into the linkdrive. Since the vessel was actually in link he worked carefully but with the phase sync low they didn't have a lot of worry there. Theoretically Cuttle-class ships could perform active-link jumps but Morris absolutely did not want to test that! Morris worked in silence but after a while Keyson spoke.

  "I took the Guild Placement," she said, "Out of two thousand points I missed the cutoff by ten."

  "Outstanding," said Morris, remembering his own placement, "How did you do on the follow-up?"

  When she didn't answer immediately he looked at her.

  "I didn't take it."

  Morris said nothing; finally she continued.

  "I was working a dead-end job when I took the placement. I just knew I'd score top-five and I'd be the best Tech Prometheus had ever seen. A lot of my coworkers called me 'Tech Lydia.' They didn't mean it as a complement, either. It hurt before I took the test but it really hurt afterward."

  "But that close, Chief Engineer, you're justified in requesting a reassessment."

  Keyson stayed silent a moment.

  "You don't understand," she said, "I tried my best and failed."

  "Ten points is hardly a failure."

  Keyson sighed with some exasperation. "It was enough to keep me out of the Academy. It six-sigmas wasn't enough to get me a scholarship. Prometheus is a poor world in a rich sector. I didn't have the money and I didn't have a lot of options. Two weeks after I found out my score the Navy recruiter contacted me. They didn't have any problem offering me training and I ended up second in my class."

  "You can still retake the assessment. Judging by what I've seen..."

  "Burnit," interrupted Keyson, "there's more to life than a Guild Cert!" She took a calming breath. "Whenever I think about it... All I can see is my failure."

  "I think you're an outstanding technician." Morris tried hard to speak these words but they refused to leave his throat.

  After a moment Keyson resumed her work. Morris worked his brain desperately for some right words to say but found none. Finally Keyson spoke again.

  "You really love your work, don't you?"

  "Yes."

  "That's it, you see." She seemed uncertain whether to continue. "I don't. I mean I do enjoy my job and I like it when things are working to perfection but I don't have a driving, all-consuming passion for it."

  "That is..." Morris scrambled for the appropriate word. "unique."

  She chuckled. "And you're a diplomat."

  "Thank you, Chief Engineer."

  "That's Lydia. I won't bite you for using my name."

  "Lydia, then." Morris managed a smile.

  Satisfied, Keyson turned back to work followed by Morris. Before long they had the unit done. He looked around for something else to do but Keyson had other ideas.

  "Office," she said, "I need to service the drive grids but we can do that later. If you still don't mind helping."

  "Certainly," he said, "or certainly not. What about right now, though?"

  She indicated a small couch. "How about 'take a break?' You may run on hydrogen fusion but I'm a mere human. I have a report to log but it won't take long. Make yourself comfortable."

  Keyson powered up her terminal and Morris found a Navy tech journal with several articles he hadn't read. His reverie snapped when Keyson plopped down beside him. She leaned back in a luxurious stretch, rolled her shoulders and popped the neck seal on her coverall. Morris felt his eyes widen and turned away quickly.

  "Hey, Morris. What bit you? What's wrong?"

  She touched his shoulder lightly and apparently detected the small flinch he tried to hide. Out of the corner of his eye Morris saw her reviewing what she'd said. Then she reached out and took his hand.

  "You are shaking like a leaf," she said gently, "Why?"

  "I... I..." Morris tried to speak but the words refused to come out.

  "Ho-ly hades," she said softly, "I think I just realized something."

  She released his hand, stood and moved her desk chair to sit facing him. Then she took his hand again and forced his gaze upward.

  "You are just shy," she said, amazed, "Am I right?"

  Morris felt his face flush and he looked down.

  "Heaven's flames!"

  Morris' embarrassment reached painful proportions. She took his hand in both of hers now.

  "Oh Morris... Just take a breath and look at me. Take your time."

  When he finally managed to lift his gaze Morris saw her expression soft and incredibly gentle.

  "Here's a nice laugh for communicating," she said, "Up until now I thought you were going to kick me out of engineering."

  "What?!" That shocked Morris into speech. Keyson simply smiled in return.

  "Six-sigmas," she said, "plus-plus. We have bios on the civilian team. I paid special attention to yours, for truth. I couldn't believe your record so I checked it. Top percentile on the placement, top marks at the Academy, a monotonous series of evaluations of 'Excellent' or better, no reprimands, no verified grievances, at least two 'miracles' to your name and one of the youngest Techs on record to attain Senior Master."

  "But... What..."

  "Definitely not an ordinary Tech," she said, "This person was obviously an Apostle to the Guild of Technology sent to call the heretic into account. Why else would your blackwater duty be advanced?"

  "I... I don't mind outzoning," said Morris weakly.

  "Then the platinum on the pile," she continued, "I finally meet this Titanium Tech. Cold, aloof and distant and totally unconcerned with anything that doesn't have an access panel. No thought on his mind except how I am abusing his precious technology."

  Morris eyes widened and Keyson squeezed his hand.

  "And now the truth comes out. Instead of super-Tech ready to toss me out of my own engine room I find a guy who could probably really use a friend. Yes?"

  Morris managed a small nod.

  "That's why you came to engineering."

  He nodded again.r />
  "Morris... I want you to know I'm really, really sorry I yelled at you. Yes?"

  This time when Morris nodded Keyson ran her fingers gently across the back of his hand.

  "Guess what," she said after a time, breaking the quietness, "We're sitting here holding hands and you're not shaking any longer."

  Amazingly she spoke truly. To his surprise Morris found himself quite relaxed.

  "Now we work on keeping you this way," she smiled.

  Morris didn't know how long they sat there when the 'comm beeped.

  "Fifteen minutes to link waypoint," came Blakeschiff's voice.

  "Aye sir. Technician Taylor and I are in engineering."

  "Acknowledge."

  As she rose Keyson held out her hand. When Morris took it and stood she ended up standing bare inches from him. Very close. Too close! She looked deep into his eyes and he felt her smile.

  "Better," she said, moving back, "It's called acclimation. It is, I think, the least I can do, yes?"

  "Thank you," he said softly.

  "Welcome."

  Morris sat at the auxiliary console and watched the waypoint approach. Why Blakeschiff made an ordeal of it Morris knew not. With their phase sync this low the automatics could handle it easily; in simple fact any interference here or on the bridge would do more harm than good. In fact the ship cruised several deviations below the lowest limit requiring active monitoring.

  "One thing you'll learn about the Commander," said Keyson, showing signs of telepathy, "He puts a lot of stock in regs and protocols."

  "I heard a rumor that he spent some time in Protocol," said Morris.

  Keyson half-started at this.

  "I will not confirm nor deny," she said cautiously, "but I will advise you not to mention it to him. I'm not saying he did, but if he did it would certainly be a sore spot with him."

  "I understand."

  The console beeped as the ship reached the waypoint. The vessel vibrated, the drive throbbed and the lights dimmed momentarily.

  "Of all the advantages the Cuttle-class has," said Keyson, "smooth waypoint transition is not one."

  "Howso," said Morris, examining the console, "The coils and grid didn't even twitch."

  Keyson looked mysterious as she checked her 'chrono.

  "Let's have lunch. It's past time and I'm a little hungry."

  ***

  Morris and Lydia found the others in the lounge, most with the remains of meals. Jackson and Delroy hadn't eaten much and the rest showed signs of discomfort.