The VMR Theory (v1.1) (24 page)

Of course, with the peace of the galaxy threatened and the Macdonalds out for our blood, the next thing on my ‘ agenda was straightening out Harry’s love life before he drove the rest of us crazy.

“Harry?” I knocked on his door. “It’s me, Ken. Can I come in?” He was in his bunk watching a movie. The Macdonalds hadn’t gotten around to installing chairs in the cabins, so I sat on the deck. “Is this one any good?”

“It’s about this plot to assassinate the president of the United States. See, he’s running for reelection, but he’s been slipping in the polls, so his wife, Courtney, pays the Arabs to bump him off so she can get elected on a sympathy vote.”

The woman in a negligee on the screen didn’t look like any president’s wife I’d ever seen. “Is that her?”

Harry waved a hand in a gesture of scorn. “That’s his mistress, who is a Secret Service agent.” He held his finger to his lips. “Quiet! We’re coming to the best part.”

“Jeff,” the actress was saying, “we found out who’s behind this. It’s Courtney, Jeff!”

“ ‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ “ Harry and the actor playing the president said in unison, “ ‘the bitch set me up.’ “ Harry nudged me. “Is this movie great, or what?” A few seconds later he asked, “What’s that song you’re whistling?”

We sat through the climactic chase scene where Courtney disembowels herself with a nuclear hand grenade beside the Reflecting Pool, and I shook my head. “I don’t know, Harry, this one’s pretty far-fetched.” Harry nodded. “Yeah, I know. Imagine a real president owning a cat.” He waggled a finger at me. “You know, Ken, I’ve been thinking. We ought to start planning for the future.”

“We have a future?”

“Cruise ships!” He smacked his fist against the palm of his hand. “That’s where the money is. All those rich, young widows! You know, when I was living on Schuyler’s World, I used to plan a lot.”

I felt my stomach turn over a new leaf. The problem with trying to be the village idiot on Schuyler’s World is the tremendous competition for the position. “What brought this on?”

He gave me a sheepish look. “I think I’m suffering from low self-esteem. Either that, or maybe hepatitis.”

I thought of several words that begin with the fourth and sixth letters of the alphabet. The person who invented medical self-diagnostic programs for home computers should be shot. “Oh?”

“Well, you know, I broke up with Wyma Jean. You never should have given her that little wriggler to babysit. She says she wants to have a baby. My baby. So I had to break up with her. I guess that means that it’s your fault.”

“Harry, there are ways for you to avoid getting her pregnant.”

Harry thrust his hands into the traditional lotus position. “No way.”

“Some of them don’t involve invasive surgery.”

“Nope!”

“I see. Well, did you want to break up with her?”

“Well, no. I mean, she’s like everything I want in a woman. She’s got blonde hair, and we have all these things in common, like Chinese food and Mexican food. Are you listening?”

“Oh, sure. Ah, where does Muffy fit into this?”

Harry appeared mortified. “Did you know that she speaks English?”

“Well, yes.”

“I can’t get her to stop. Ken, you’ve got to do something to help me patch things up with Wyma Jean.”

“Are you sure that you want to be back with her?”

“Ken, you know that a space sailor is supposed to have a woman in every port, right?”

“Yes, some people think that’s true.”

“Well, gosh darn it, Ken! You know what kind of ports we visit!”

“Well, yes.”

“With the kind of women you find in those ports, it takes a pretty strong stomach, let me tell you. It’s different for you. You being a vamp and all, nobody thinks twice when you don’t go chasing after skirts, but for the rest of us it’s heil.” He hung his head. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for it. You got to do something to get Wyma Jean to forgive me, Ken.”

I gave up. “All right. Come on. I’ll see what I can do.” Harry pumped my hand enthusiastically. “Thanks, Ken.” Harry in tow, I made my weary way to Wyma Jean’s cabin and knocked on the door. “Wyma Jean?”

“Stick it in your ear, you two-timing lump of lard!”

“It’s me, Ken. Your captain.”

“What?” She opened the door. “Oh. Hello, Ken.”

I pushed Harry inside and sat him down. “I just spoke to Harry. He’s pretty broken up about breaking up with you.”

Wyma Jean ignored Harry’s presence. “What Harry needs to learn is that love is an eternal and unconditional commitment to life’s higher purpose. People are mirrors for each other. When a person recognizes that light in another human being, it awakens love. When the mirror of your soul reflects the love in me, then I see the love in you. And that’s what love is—the glimpses of the love inside each of us. With Harry, it came down to fear of intimacy. I can support a person who is awakening and going for his or her aliveness. But if one person is ready to grow and the other isn’t, then a person has to follow her own path. There is a time to let go, and sometimes that jolt is what it takes to awaken a person who refuses to grow to his higher power. I lost my sense of trust. For me, the fabric woven in light has come unraveled, and now it’s a matter of weaving a new fabric. The blessing is that this has made me grow tremendously, and Harry, too, I think. We have both discovered a deeper relationship with the beloved aspect within. The energy is there, within me. It’s awakened and growing. It’s important to keep that energy alive.”

“What’s that mean in English?”

“Tell that bastard to rot in hell forever.”

“He’s really sorry.” I looked at Harry. “Aren’t you, Harry?”

“Mmm, yes.”

“He’ll never do it again. Right, Harry?”

“Uh, right.”

“Wyma Jean, he loves you. Don’t you, Harry?”

This time there was a slight pause. “Uh, yeah.”

Wyma Jean looked at him for the first time. “Do you really love me?”

“Of course I love you, honey-bunny. You sweat less than any other fat girl I know,” Harry said gallantly.

Wyma Jean squealed and jumped into his arms. On the
Scupper
that would have necessitated a minor course correction, but a battle cruiser has more mass. I discreetly left, closing the door behind me. I’d done a good deed, and besides, if anyone on the Nobel search committee knew Wyma Jean, I had an outside shot at the Peace Prize.

I went to Catarina’s cabin and knocked on the door. “Catarina, it’s me.”

“Come on in.” She was curled up, looking peaceful. “What movies haven’t we seen?”

“Let’s see what Irvin has on file.” She sat up, turned on the entertainment system, and rummaged through the directory.
“Ninja Truckdriver III?
“

“Pass.”

“Here’s something called
Dances with Dogs.”

“What’s it about? It sounds like a geek at a sorority dance.”

She skimmed the abstract. “Never mind. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. How about
Casablanca?
“

I nodded.
“Casablanca
it is.” I heard the intercom buzz. “What is it?”

It was Rosalee from the bridge. “Captain, we’re picking up communications from a Confederation ship. You’d better get up here.”

By the time we reached the bridge, the news had spread, and Catarina and I had to elbow aside some of Muffy’s feminists to reach our seats. Bunkie pointed to the panel. “I’m picking up a very strong signal.”

“Put it on.”

A syrupy voice said, “ ‘And tonight’s daily winning lottery number is…’ “

Bunkie colored. “Sir, why don’t we begin transmitting to the other ship instead.”

“Good idea.” I thumbed the send button. “Confederation ship, this is Lieutenant Kenneth MacKay, Confederation Naval Reserve, captain of expropriated vessel
Hunting Snark.
We have a swarm of Macdonald ships after us and information vital to the survival of the Confederation to pass along to Admiral Crenshaw. Request shelter behind the guns of the fleet.” I rubbed my hands together. “That should do it.”

“We are saved!” Trixie exclaimed.

We received an immediate reply. “Attention, unregistered vessel. This is Confederation Entomological Authority Ship
Millard B. Tydings,
Civil Servant Grade 12 Burgess Peters commanding.”

Trixie tried again. “We are saved!”

“You have not been cleared to enter Confederation space. Heave to for inspection of your ship for harmful invertebrate pests.”

“We are not saved,” Trixie observed sadly.

The Entomological Authority people were a tough bunch. Among other things, they were the ones who busted Santa Claus for operating a sleigh without proper safety equipment and employing nonunion labor. “How long is this going to take?” I asked.

There was a slight pause. “Given the size of your ship, no more than twelve to fourteen hours.”

“Excuse me—if we heave to, the Macdonald ships chasing us are going to catch up and blow us to atoms.” There was another slight pause. “Discharge of weaponry within 3.9 astronomical units of an inhabited planet is a class two felony. Rest assured that if they do, they will be prosecuted with the full rigor of the law.”

“Very comforting,” Catarina observed.

“Look, Mr. Peters,” I pleaded, “this is a navy matter. We work for Admiral Crenshaw. Call her.”

“Admiral Crenshaw has been reassigned following her well-publicized remarks regarding perceived deficiencies in Confederation military deployments. To the best of my knowledge, she is unavailable at this time.”

“If tee Confederation tries us for misappropriating a battle cruiser, will we go to jail?” Blok queried.

“Current policy is to sentence thieves, burglars, congressmen from Chicago, and other nonviolent offenders to rehabilitative therapy,” Catarina assured him.

Blok appeared puzzled. “Does t’is keep t’em from committing crimes?”

“No, but it keeps psychiatrists off the streets, so most people think of it as a cheap way to improve public safety.”

“Peters,” I begged, “you’ve got to let us through.”

“I’m sorry. The Entomological Authority is the Confederation’s first line of defense against damaging crop pests. Can you in any way certify that your ship has no invertebrates aboard?”

“Well…” I said, looking at Muffy, Trixie, and Blok, who technically failed to qualify.

“I am required by regulation to compel you to stop your ship for boarding and inspection. If you fail to do so, I have no choice but to open fire upon your ship.”

“Attention
Millard B. Tydings,
stand by to receive a taped transmission. Get it to Confederation naval and diplomatic authorities immediately.” I squirted a tape that Catarina, Blok, and I had prepared, detailing what we knew of the Macdonald plan to invade ! Plixxi* and attack the Confederation. Then I made a final appeal. “Look, Peters, to hell with regulations! Damn the torpedoes! There comes a time in life to stand up and make choices. The future of the Confederation is at stake here. What do you say?”

There was a slight pause. “This is Civil Servant Grade 10 Ann Guisti, second officer. Civil Servant Grade 12 Peters is suffering from a mild asthma attack and is temporarily incapacitated.” There was a tone of mild reproach in her voice. “In accordance with regulations, I must insist that you stop your ship and prepare to be boarded.”

I turned to Catarina. “What do you think?”

“We make a quick seventy-degree course alteration, swing a tight parabola around the star, and double back through our black hole with about a two-hour lead on the Macdonalds.” She began punching a course in to Irvin, who immediately began squawking. “Then we go on to Plixxi to disrupt Mordred’s invasion.”

“Oh, dear Lord, not Plixxi. Besides, Plixxi is the first place they’d think to look for us.”

“You have a better idea?”

“The Macdonalds wouldn’t think that we were crazy enough to go back to Alt Bauemhof—”

“Neither would I.”

“All right, second idea. We get off at Schuyler’s World. It seems to me that our best chance to throw a spanner into the works—”

“Ah, Ken, sir?” Clyde broke in.

“Yes?”

“What’s a spanner?”

I reddened, which is difficult for a vamp to do, but possible. “It’s kind of like a British monkey wrench. You’ve never heard the expression?”

“Never. What makes you think landing at Schenectady will throw a spanner into the works?”

“Well, we’ve got to figure out some way to whittle down the Macdonald invasion battalions. The city of Schenectady has at least one dubious drinking establishment on every street corner, so I figure—”

“Ken,” Catarina interrupted, “I want to get this straight. Are you saying that Schenectady is a bar-spangled spanner?”

I shut up, and we doubled back and set a course for IPlixxi*, with, of course, Xhia’s squadron right behind us, and Mordred’s invasion fleet set to follow.

Since we couldn’t land a ship like the
Hunting Snark
on a planetary surface, and leaving the ship in orbit didn’t appear particularly intelligent, Catarina and I planned to contact Bucky and Cheeves and arrange for them to send a shuttle to pick us up and ferry us down while Irvin took the ship on to parts unknown.

I gathered my crew and passengers together and borrowed a prybar from Rosalee to explain the situation, as well as our chances, which were somewhere between not good and downright pathetic. A hushed silence fell over all of them, reinforced by my prybar. Then Rosalee, who breaks out in hives at the thought of spending more than a week on a given dirtball, raised her hand. “Ken, do all of us have to get off at Plixxi or can some of us continue on with Irvin?”

“We’re almost out of food, except for the Macdonalds emergency rations on board, which only the Macdonalds can eat, but if you want to stay, I’ll ask Bucky to have a few cases of stuff waiting.”

“Thanks, Ken.”

“Wyma Jean, what about you? No guarantees that staying on the
Snark
will be any safer than fighting off an invasion from space, but the choice is up to you.”

“Ken, I’d like to stay on board,” Wyma Jean said in a clear voice. She was looking straight at Harry, apparently drawing a line in the ether.

A few moments after the gathering broke up, Muffy, Belkasim, and a delegation of feminists wearing crushed velvet pantsuits, lace ruffles, and bunny ears came to see me.