The Star Princess Incident

“The Star Princess Incident” 

By Jeffrey Van Dell

“Captain, there’s been a murder.”

            “Say again?” I said.

            “There’s been a murder. One of the passengers is lying here in a pool of blood with a serving fork shoved through her back.” Said my first officer.

            “Where are you?” I asked.

            “I’m in hallway 13-B, off the main dining room. You’d better get down here, the passengers are upset.” Said Stu, my first officer and flight surgeon.

            “I bet they are, notify security, get the passengers back to their cabins and don’t let anyone else near the body. I’m on my way.”

 There had never, to my knowledge, been anything more violent than a sneeze on one of these Earth to Saturn luxury runs. In my sixteen years as an officer for the Company I’d never heard of a passenger murdered in flight.

            I removed my headset and did one last check of all the systems before leaving the flight deck in the capable hands of my executive officer.

            “Geena you have the bridge. Monitor corridor13-B and have the AI inform you of any passengers who don’t make it back to their cabins.” I said.

            “Aye Sir.” She said.

            The gravity in the parts of the ship accessible to paying passengers was always set at earth’s norm, one g. It was always a bit of an adjustment going from the low-g of the flight deck to normal gravity and I was momentarily dizzy. I took three, quick, deep breaths to clear my head then went down the hatch leading to passenger decks. 

 I came through the main dining room, an elegant wood paneled affair with crystal chandeliers, fine china, and real silverware. Flight stewards had told the passengers to go back to their cabins and lock the doors so it was empty right now. In the access corridor Stu and the ship’s safety officer, Dave Sterling, were standing over the body of a middle-aged woman, obese, and wearing a green dress that seemed much too small for her. The gold buttons holding the seams of her outfit looked strained. Perhaps, relaxing in death, she bulged outward.

            “What happened?” I asked Stu.

            “The passengers were coming down for dinner when a group of them came across the body, right here. They yelled for help and I came from the 13-C where I was doing my daily walk-through. After checking to see if she were alive, I contacted you, told all the passengers to return to their cabins then waited with the body. Security’s been informed and my nurse is on her way with my equipment.” He said. Stu was an M.D. and the flight surgeon who enjoyed piloting more than doctoring. He was superb at both.

            “When did you get here?” I asked Dave.

            “I was checking the thermal vents on the port side. I heard a commotion and got here just after Stu contacted you. I’ve been here since then. The stewards report that all the passengers are in their assigned cabins and locked in. No one is unaccounted for.” He said, checking his PDA.

            “Ok, there’s never been a murder on a luxury liner before. I don’t even know if there’s a procedural checklist for this kind of event. I’m going to contact Station One and tell them what happened. We’re more than three-quarters of the way to Saturn and I don’t think they’d want us to come back, so until they tell me otherwise I’m keeping the ship on course. Agreed?” I said.

            “Yes sir.” They said.

            “Stu, can you establish the time of death and do an autopsy? We need to make sure this couldn’t have been a freak accident.” I knew that one of the security monitors, which were everywhere on the ship,  must have caught the murder but you could never be too careful and I wanted to cover my butt.

            “Yes Sir, as a matter of fact…” He said as his nurse arrived with three huge gear bags. She looked wide-eyed at the body.

            “Dave, all passengers are confined to their cabins until further notice. We need to get as much information as quickly as possible.”

            “Sir, isn’t it dangerous keeping the passengers locked in their cabins? One of them is a murderer.” Asked Dave.

            “That’s true. But the safety of this ship is my primary concern. If someone is willing to murder someone, they may be willing to sabotage the ship. There’s no evidence that anyone’s tried to, but we can’t take any chances. Your concern for the passengers is noted.” I said.

            Stu began taking pictures and readings from the body.

            “There’s no way we can get her back Stu?” I asked.

            “No Sir. We can heal quite a bit these days, but her brain’s been without oxygen too long. Her brain is mush.” He held her by the shoulders. “Help me turn her on her side I need to get a shot of the fork.” He said.

            We moved her on her side as gingerly as possible, but she was fat. The woman’s eyes were opened in surprise and her mouth was slack, a little bit of blood came out between her lips. I took a deep breath and tried to not be nauseous. It was a long time since I’d seen a dead body outside of a funeral home.

“Looks like her heart was punctured straight through. She died quickly.” He ran a hand scanner over her chest.

“Look at the prongs of the fork.” He pointed.

They were three inches long and bent like a gymnast doing a split.

“Whoever did this must have been enraged and pumped up on adrenaline, to bend the tines that way.” Stu got photos from all angles as we held the carcass of the victim. “You men will note that the handle has the ‘Star Princess’ logo on it. The murder weapon, if it is a murder, came from our kitchens.” He said.

            Dave got little plastic bags and put them around her hands.

            “What are those for?” I asked.

            “If she struggled with the murderer there might be some DNA we can get from under her fingernails. Don’t you watch crime stories sir?” He asked.

            “Not those kind.” I said.

            “I need to contact her family. Who was she?” I asked.

            “Elizabeth Whitesail.” Dave ran a scanner over her shoulder where all the passengers had an identification implant. “She’s seventy-nine, unmarried, no other relatives on this ship, and she had the Imperial suite, upper deck.” He whistled through his teeth. “One person for all that room…”

            “She’s extremely wealthy. Let’s hope she’s not connected.” I said.

The worst of my troubles would have been if she were a relative of someone high up in the Company. I could lose my license or be put on desk duty for rest of my career if I didn’t handle this perfectly. “I need to contact the base. Is there anything else we need to do here right now? Stu do you have everything you need?” I asked.

            “No, I’m done. I can have the AI do the autopsy as we go.” Said Stu as he covered her with a metallic autopsy sheet. I’d seen quite a few during the war.

            “We need to interview passengers but let’s review the recordings first.”

“Sir, dinner was about to be served. I know there’s been a murder but they have to be fed.” Said Dave.

 “Serve them in their cabins until we’ve completed a preliminary investigation?” Asked Stu.

            “Good idea, tell the chefs to make all the meals room service until further notice. It’s a lot of work but we need to do this right. Have one officer present at any door opening. I’ll issue a service weapon. You won’t need it but it will show them we’re in control and maybe give the murderer pause if he’s thinking of acting again.” I said.

            “Sir, the body needs to go into the freezer after Stu’s done. I’ll need some help getting her on a gurney.” Dave said.

            “Ok, get a volunteer from the kitchen to help you.” I said.

            Dave left and Stu and I stood over the body of the late Mrs. Whitesail.

            “What do you think?” I asked. Stu look at readings from the AI and frowned.

            “I don’t know what to think. I can tell you cause of death but was it a crime of passion, revenge, or just insanity? Fortunately, big brother sees all. It shouldn’t take too long to solve this.” He nodded up to the tiny dot in the ceiling that housed a motion camera. There were dozens of them all over the ship.

            “We need to have another crew member, one of the non-commissioned officers, because it’s a legal proceeding.”

“How about Scudder, he’s a solid guy and bonded with the Company.” Stu said.

“My first choice is Geena but while we’re locked in we need someone to maintain the flight deck, regulations. So it’s you, me, Dave, and Scudder.” I said.

            Dave returned with one of the cooks and a gurney.

            “What a mess! You want me to clean up sir?” Asked Chuck, a cook’s assistant who was new to the ship.

            “No, let the bots do it Chuck.” I said.  He was looking all over the place, nervous. I didn’t blame him.

            “I don’t mind, really sir.” He said.

There were better ways to suck up to the captain than cleaning up a murder victim’s blood. Maybe I’d let him polish my shoes.

            “No, let the bots do it. Just help Dave get the body in the freezer.” With that I left.

Geena Rideout, executive officer and flight engineer, reported no changes in the fifteen minutes I’d been gone. Not surprising since the ship could run by its self for months. Of course, no one wanted to travel through space unless a human pilot was on board. After I filled her in on the details of the apparent murder she checked the titanium hatch to the flight deck to make sure it was secured. I’d ordered a sentry outside the hatch until further notice.

            “Geena honey you’d need a thermal burner and six hours to get through that door without the passkey.” I checked our position and calculated our distance from Saturn to the nearest meter, then sent a message to station one informing them of our passenger’s untimely departure and the steps I’d taken so far.

            “Sir, are you going to need me here for an extra shift? Regulations require that I inspect the coolant lines by eighteen hundred hours tomorrow. Crawling around the shafts half asleep isn’t healthy.” She raised an eyebrow.

            “You’ll have to man the flight deck until the preliminary investigation is done. I’ll sign off on an extension for the coolant line inspection.” I made a note in the log.

            “Thank you sir.” She was a stickler for details.

            “Listen, because of the serious nature of the incident I’m giving my thumbprint, retina scan, and voice identity, authorizing you to take any action you see fit to ensure the safety of the ship and its passengers. It’s not required by any regulation, but why take chances? Do you have any questions?”

            “No sir.” She would be in legal and practical control of the ship during the time we’d be locked up in my ready room, looking for answers.

            “The ship is yours. Don’t break it.” I said, and left her in control my ship and its passengers.

            My ready room was really just a place for me to sleep in my clothes during parts of the trip when I couldn’t stay awake for forty-eight hours at a stretch. It had a fold-down cot that flipped over into a table and all the monitors from the bridge were fed into a console. A food-processing unit was stocked with frozen entrees from home, which I could cook in minutes. A shower unit was off to the side. It was cozy, private, and as impregnable as the flight deck.

 Scudder, Dave, and Stu came in and took their seats, literally rubbing elbows. The cozy room was now claustrophobic, even by starship standards.

“Chuck’s coming with some food sir. All the Alaskan King-Crab had to be moved out to make room for Mrs. Whitesail. I love crab.” Dave said.

“I’m allergic to shellfish. Ironic, isn’t it? All the lobster I could want growing up and it made me sick.” Tom Scudder had grown up in a fishing family in New England.

“I’ll eat your portion so it doesn’t go to waste. You can have my cornbread if you like.” Said Stu.

“It’s not like grandma used to make.” Tom said and got out his PDA.

“Ok, let’s get these things signed. After Chuck delivers the food I’ll bolt the door.” I said. “Dave, you can have my crab. I’m in the mood for meatloaf.” I took a freezer pack of my sister’s homemade meatloaf and put it in the cooker.

We all signed affidavits and I notarized the documents. This was a legal proceeding, a Captain’s Mast as it was called in the old days, and I was its chief judge. I’d had one course on criminal law and investigations a million years ago, never expecting to have to put the knowledge to use. I looked over the instructions with my men and made a list of documents I’d need to draft.

Chuck arrived with the food, enormous platters of crab legs, cornbread, string beans, and chocolate pudding for dessert.

“How did the passengers seem when you delivered their food Chuck?” Dave asked.

“More than a few are excited about being aboard a ship with a murderer. They all want to send messages home describing their part in the drama. I guess that’s better than having them terrified.  Enjoy your food sirs.” He said, and left.

I bolted the door behind him. We ate quickly and cleared the food, then started up the recorder for the Company archives.

“Ok Captain Stevens, what do we know?” I asked Stu.

 “Mrs. Elizabeth Whitesail, she was seventy-nine years of age, no occupation is listed, her husband who died last year, no children or next of kin listed. She was making the trip out to Saturn to visit an old family friend. She was employed, briefly by the Company, forty years ago as a research assistant. Her late husband was a researcher and physicist. According to the AI she’s not a likely murder victim.” Stu snorted. He had little use for the ship’s AI.

“How about the passengers. Are there any connections between her and anyone on the ship?” I poured coffee for each man dumping too much sugar into mine, adding more coffee to even it out.

Dave looked through the passenger manifest. “She traveled here alone. Our initial inquiry shows she made no friends on the ship. The activity director reports that she didn’t take part in planned events; not even a tour of the ‘restricted’ parts of the ship. That’s unusual for someone who spent so much money on a ship like this one. I sat at her table in the dining room last night. She politely answered my questions but didn’t volunteer information or involve herself in anyone’s conversations. After a while the other passengers just ignored her. She seemed kind of lonely.”

“The wealthy often are.” Said Scudder.

“Her husband died, she may have feel lost. Any medical conditions listed Stu?” I asked.

“No, she was on a multi-spectrum vitamin but apart from her weight she was in good health for a woman her age.”

“Mr. Scudder did you notice anything unusual with any of the passengers. It might be a little thing.” I asked.

“No sir…well, I did see her speaking with Mr. Wayland. That’s Chuck.”

Passengers often spoke with the crew, nothing unusual there.

“Dave, do any of our passengers pictures or identities not match up between our data base and Station One’s? Might we have an imposter?” I asked.

“No sir. DNA scan shows that she is who her documents say she is.”

“Well gentlemen, this means that we have a nut on board.” I said.

Geena broke in on the comm.

“Sir, you have a priority message from Station One.” She said.

“Patch it through please.” I replied.

“Captain Taylor, Captain Stevens, I understand you have a murder. Where are you in the investigation?” The Company lawyer was unsmiling and young.

“We have convened a Court and are going over the details of the crime right now.” I said.

“Have you performed an autopsy Dr. Stevens?” The lawyer asked.

“Yes I have. It showed the injuries she sustained which we observed were the cause of death. It’s a murder, not an accident. I already sent you my full report.” He said.

The lawyer on Station One leaned out of the picture for a moment and whispered something to someone we couldn’t see.

“Captain Taylor do you know who the victim is?” He asked.

“That information was relayed to you. Her name is…” I began.

“I know her name. ‘Do you know who she is?’ was the question I asked.”

I glanced around the table for a clue and found none.

“You don’t know, do you Captain Taylor?” Said the lawyer, with an accusative edge to his voice.

“No, should I? She wasn’t listed as a VIP.” I said evenly.

“You may have been fooled because she used her married name to purchase the ticket. Her maiden name is Uterich, as in Frederick Uterich the inventor of the paired neutrino transmitter.” He said.

“You mean she’s the wife of the inventor of the instant transmitter?” Dave asked.

“No Lieutenant Sterling, she was the inventor of the unit. A little known fact outside of upper Company management is that Elizabeth Uterich signed over her rights to the patent, and the fortune it made, to her husband, Frederick. She was a genius in her day. The theoretical work she did is bearing fruit to this day. We find it unusual that she, of all people, would end up dead on what is supposed to be the safest ship in the pleasure fleet.” The lawyer moved out of view again and had a whispered conversation with someone.

From the looks of those around the table it was clear that no one knew Mrs. Whitesail was also Mrs. Uterich.

“Captain Taylor, you are authorized to use any means necessary on the crew and passengers to find the perpetrator, any means necessary. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” Asked the lawyer.

“Perfectly, should I get out the thumb screws and iron maiden?” I joked. His condescending tone was irritating me.

This elicited smirks around the table that were quickly stifled by the Company lawyer’s threat.

“You all stand to lose your licenses if this crime is not resolved to our satisfaction before you reach Saturn Station. The Company is treating this as an extremely serious threat. If you weren’t so far in your journey we’d have told you to return at once and have our own investigators sort it out. It’s too expensive to do it that way so it’s up to you. Don’t screw up. I’ll be in touch.” The screen went black and we stared at each other in silence.

There were people I’d met over the years who said that the Company could be brutal. I’d dismissed their words because it had always treated me well. Now I understood what they were talking about.

“Someone didn’t get his happy pills today.” Said Scudder.

“Can they really just yank our licenses?” Asked Sterling.

“They own the ships and issue licences. They can do whatever they want to. Well, we know what our job is and what the stakes are. Let’s get to it, shall we? Roll through the recordings. Start with a half-hour before she was killed. This shouldn’t take long.”

The recording showed the corridor where she was killed. The angle was from above and behind the direction the woman walked. Several stewards and crew walked in and out of the picture, going about their usual tasks. Dave noted the time and direction each person entered the frame and left. We saw Elizabeth Whitesail walk into the frame and go into the dining room, she came out of the dining room a moment later, backing up into the corridor.

“Was she trying to get away from her attacker? I don’t see anyone.” Stu asked.

The next instant the recording was garbled for four seconds and then Elizabeth was on the ground with the serving fork stuck through her back.

“What happened, recorder malfunction? That’s no coincidence.” Dave asked.

“Check the backup copy of the recording see if it matches. See if any of the other recorders malfunctioned.” I said.

Stu and Scudder brought up the data and we compared it to our garbled recording.

“Computer shows no fault with the recording. The time stamp is continuous. There’s no missing data or missing time.” Said Dave with a frown.

“That can’t be. Look at it. Replay and repeat that section.” I said.

We watched the same exact scene play out, ad infinitum. Even with the playback slowed down she looked the same. Mrs. Whitesail became a green blur over and over again. Someone had tampered with what we were seeing but I couldn’t figure out how.

“Ok, turn it off. Any thoughts?” I asked.

“We could have security run a diagnostic on the recorders. It’s possible one of them was tampered with.” Said Dave.

“How possible?” I asked.

“Apart from playback, the recorders are not under our control. The Company security agents always lock the panels the drives are stored in must before we leave station. They’re impossible to open during a flight without destroying the data.” He said.

“Not possible at all then?” I asked.

“No sir. Whoever did it would have to open the protected computer core behind the access panel on the flight deck, or over there.” He pointed to a small deck panel on the floor that had Company code and yellow and black safety marks around it.

“No one but you usually comes in here. You’d know it if someone was taking your deck plating apart.” Dave knelt down to peer at the panel in question.

“Ok, check the tapes of my ready room from the start of the flight…no from the end of the last trip until a few minutes ago.” I said, no sense doing it if we weren’t going to be thorough.

“Sir, even using the computer that will take…sixteen hours. May I limit the search to instances when only you or someone else was in the room? I should also check the flight deck recordings too. We’ve had some VIP’s there in the recent past.” He said.

“We had a little tour before we left station this trip. Geena walked them through before the engines went online.” I said.

Stu and Dave checked the recordings of my ready room while Scudder and I watched a sped up replay of events on the flight deck.

“Hey, I really am going bald back there. My father has a full head of hair to this day. It must be my maternal grandparent who passed the bad hair gene on to me.” I never looked at myself from that angle before.

“Don’t feel bad sir, I’m into my third re-grow. It comes in and lasts for five years, then you have to shell out the dough for another five.” Scudder poured us another round of coffee and I put the powdered cream on top, watching it slowly dissolve into the thick brew.

“Sir, on the screen.” He said.

I watched as Chuck delivered a meal to Geena and myself. It was from three days ago. As he left Chuck stopped and briefly touched a wall panel with his hand. There was nothing sinister about it. He may have been steadying himself, but it was the panel where the recorders were stored.

“Replay it again.” I said.

We watched it again and couldn’t see anything in his hand and the panel was never opened.

“Could he have done something right there?” I asked.

“It takes a special tool only the security techs carry to open one of those secure panels. It also takes a minimum of ten minutes to do it without wrecking the data. My sister worked in security and did this when she first started. She was reprimanded once for almost wrecking the data because she forgot to replace one screw when replacing the panel.” He said.

“Well, I’ll ask Chuck about it later, but it looks harmless.” I said.

“Captain?” Said Stu.

“Got something Stu?” I turned around and to my horror saw that Stu and Dave were both clutching their throats and turning blue.

“What the heck?” I yelled. “Are you ok?”

Stu’s throat was closing and Dave was gasping for breath.

“Sir, it must be an allergic reaction to the shellfish.” Scudder grabbed a first aid kit from the wall and we searched through it to find the right injector.

“The blue one sir!” I grabbed it and was faced with a real moral dilemma. There was only enough dosage for one person and I had two who needed it immediately. Scudder hit a communications pad and called for medics. I injected Stu and waited anxiously for his breathing to return to normal.

It didn’t.

“Sir they’re here!” Said Scudder.

“Computer, override secure door command.” I said.

The hatch opened and two medics with their gear ran in.

“They had an allergic reaction to the shellfish. I gave Captain Stevens a dose of this.” I waved the injector in front of them.

The medics slapped health collars on each of them and I saw Stu’s color change from blue to pink in seconds. Dave’s pallor pinked up a little more slowly. It was frightening to see someone choking to death in front of your own eyes.

“Are they going to be alright?” I asked. “Neither of them was allergic to seafood, shellfish…I don’t know what happened.” I said.

Several security techs appeared at the door and Stu and Dave were strapped onto litters and rushed down to the infirmary.

“Did you have any of what they ate sir?” One of the medics asked me.

“No, I had meatloaf from home. Are any of the other passengers sick?” I asked.

“No, they’re all fine. Many of them, and the crew, had the crab legs.” She said. She must have been all of twenty years old and a hundred pounds soaking wet.

“Ok, keep me apprised of their status. You can get a sample of the food from…oh no you can’t.” I looked over and realized it had already been recycled. All the ship’s trash was broken down by nanites and microbes, then fed back into the ship’s hydroponics bay.

“Don’t’ worry sir, we can get swabs from their stomachs. Are you sure you’re feeling no ill effects?” She ran a scanner over my skin. “Your blood pressure and heart rate are fine. I have to take blood to check for toxins, may I do that sir?” She asked.

“Ok, go ahead.” She got a sample and put it in her bag. “The results will be ready in ten minutes but I have to do it in the lab. Will you be alright until then sir?” She said.

My glare at her must have frightened her because she said, “Sir, It’s in the regulations that when the chief flight surgeon and the safety officer are incapacitated or unavailable that I ask you these questions sir. I’m the ranking medical officer now.” She said, as if she didn’t believe it herself.

“Right, good work um…Corpsman Denzer. I’m fine and feeling no ill effects. The XO is in legal and practical control of the ship and she’s locked in the bridge util further notice.” I said.

She nodded and said, “You’re always the captain sir.” With that she saluted and ran down to the infirmary before I could say another word.

I turned to Scudder and said, “I don’t care what I have to do, but I want that medic on all my flights, if I have any other flights.”
            “I don’t believe in coincidences sir. We should check who had crew food-prep duty. It was Chuck who delivered the food though.” He said.

“I thought all our crew was vetted long before they made it to a luxury ship like this.” I said, angry that I was put in the position of not trusting my own crew. Our lives depended upon one another’s performance. Without trust a ship like this, any ship for that matter, couldn’t run.

“I know sir. We have to follow the facts wherever they go. The lab should have information for us soon. Why don’t we keep going through the recordings and see if anything more pops up.” He said.

“Ok, I’ll take it from where they stopped, you continue from where we were.” I said, then logged the entire incident for the Company. They probably thought my ship was a nut house. I sat in front of the monitor and tried to concentrate.

Ten minutes later Corpsman Denzer called from the infirmary.

“Sir, they’re both going to be fine. Captain Stevens needs a little more detoxification and Lieutenant Sterling is sleeping. They’ll both be ready to resume duty in six hours. How are you feeling sir?” She asked.

“I’m fine. Did you find any toxins in the food?” I asked, anxious for an answer.

“Sir, there were traces of toxin in both men’s blood but it was natural, not man made. However, the concentrations of it were abnormally high, ten times the amount normally found in shellfish. I contacted station one and informed their health officer of the lot number of the food shipment so they can stop any other ships from serving it.”

“Good work. Is there any way someone could have gotten the toxin into the food after it was prepared?” I asked.

“It’s possible, but I’m not a forensic technician. I’ll check into it right away. Any other questions sir?” She asked.

“No, carry on.” I turned off the monitor.

“Well, we have another mystery. Was someone trying to poison us or was it a fluke of nature? At least none of the passengers got sick.” I said. This was possibly the worst voyage I’d ever been in charge of.

            After looking at the tapes, Scudder and I went to as many cabins as we could, assuring the passengers that everything was under control and they’d be free to move about the ship shortly. Most of them complained about something, the food, the size of their rooms, and the more they paid the more they had to complain about. The thrill of being on a ship with a murderer was losing its novelty. I assured them that the Company would reimburse them for any inconvenience. I hoped they would, the Company held a virtual monopoly on space travel.

Geena Rideout was grateful when I finally relieved her around one in the morning, local time. She looked beat and I put a hand on her shoulder and gave an affectionate squeeze.

            “I’ve been monitoring everything. You’re doing a great job Tom. Stu and Dave are going to be fine.” She said.

She craned her neck around and I heard a “pop”. She was my age but looked twenty years younger. “I’ve been sitting too long, need to get to the gym. The secondary air circulation fan motor was running hot for a while. I noted it in the log for the system’s engineers. That’s it Sir.” She said, stifling a yawn.

            “In that case I relieve you Commander Rideout.” I said with mock seriousness.

            “I stand relieved Sir.” She said with a smirk.

            Everything was perfect with the ship’s engines, life support, gravity, and course heading. The ship’s vital functions were always monitored by an AI and the engineers on duty so there wasn’t much for me to do in regards to flying the ship until we got within the gravity well of a planet. There was always paperwork and reports, crew commendations and supplies to order, so I put myself to work on those.

            At five in the morning Corpsman Denzer stood outside the flight deck hatch and asked if she could take a medical reading.

            “Come on in.” I let her in and sealed the hatch behind her.

            “Captain Stevens should be ready for active duty in two hours. He can relieve us both Sir. How are you holding up?” She said as she slipped the medical monitor around my arm and neck.

            “I’m fine. Back when I was first working on the flight deck they only allowed pilots to fly six hours at a time. Now we’re doing ten and twelve hour shifts, to save money of course.” The arm cuff was buzzing and I felt tiny pricks taking blood samples from me.

            “I’ve read that ideally flight deck crew should work a four hour shift, take two off, then work four more. I understand about cutting costs. I’m saving up for Flight Surgeon School.” She said, inputting data into a pad.

            “You want to be an M.D. or do research?” I asked.

            “Obstetrics, I want to deliver babies.” She said, turning a shade of red as if she were talking about making babies.

            “That’s a wonderful specialty, although it can have its share of heartbreak.” I said.

I thought back to my marriage to Jennifer and our lost infant son, Stephen, that led to its dissolution. It had been two years since I’d spoken to Jennifer.

            “You’re fit sir, you do need sleep. As my last act as acting ships acting surgeon I’m recommending at least eight hours of deep sleep. Here’s a pill sir, Nurse Connolly signed off on it since I can’t legally write prescriptions. She suggested you take it a half hour before you lay down and you’re guaranteed eight hours of dreamless sleep.” She packed her bags and looked at the banks of monitors in wonder. “No windows sir?” She asked.

            I laughed. “Not anymore and not on this model, it’s too dangerous. Ever thought about flight school?” I asked.

            “I tried that sir. When they had me do the 3-D acuity test I fell straight backwards and cracked my skull on the deck, concussion of course. That ended that idea.” She said.

            “Yes, about one in ten fail that test. If you’re not able to deal with standing still and watching the universe spin around you they don’t let you pilot a ship that spins in crazy directions all the time, like this one.”

            “I get dizzy on carnival rides sir, even the kiddie ones. I guess my brain is too easily tricked. Well, good night sir, if you have any symptoms…”

            “I know, call you right away.” She saluted me and I let her out.

            Stu came in at seven and relieved me, looking no worse for the wear and a little embarrassed by his sudden illness.

            “Doctors make he worst patience. I drove poor Denzer and my nurse crazy. I may have a relapse. The toxin stays in your fat cells for up to forty-eight hours. I have quite a bit more fat than Dave.”  He said.

            “We have to reconvene the Captains Mast after I’ve slept. Will you both be up for it?” I asked.

            “He’ll be there. Rideout’s inspecting her ducts right now and she can take the helm after you wake up.” He read through the pass-on log and I went to bed.

            It’s strange that dreams often tell us things our conscious mind fails to see. I once lost a girlfriend’s bracelet and searched for it for two days, finding it only after I dreamt of its location under a pile of books in my bedroom. The pill Denzer gave me was supposed to prevent dreams, leave me feeling ultra-fresh and ready for action, but a dream about a flight school exercise popped into my subconscious nonetheless.

            When I awoke I convened my Captains Mast and secured the hatch when everyone was seated.

            “Ok, play the recording right where it goes haywire and loop it.” I said.

            We watched the image blur and spin, then turn back to normal.

            “Listen, this sounds nuts, but what if what we’re seeing actually happened?” I asked.

            “You mean she blurred out like that? What could cause that?” Stu asked.

            “What if there were a local loss of gravity, then it returned instantly, over and over again?

            “It’s plausible sir.” Said Dave.

            “I don’t understand.” Said Scudder.

            “We’ve been looking at this tape as if there was something wrong with the recording, but I think someone tampered with the gravity in those deck and ceiling panels in that section of the corridor. It caused her to move up and down so fast that it looked as though the image was blurred.” I said.

            “But wouldn’t her body be smashed between the plates?” Stu asked.

            “Yes, every bone in her body should have been broken.” Scudder said.

            “Actually she wouldn’t if the computer was told to change the polarity of the gravity plates before her body touched the ceiling or the deck. You could tell the computer to toss her around and after a specific number of cycles between the plates, let her down. It would have looked like a stroke or heart attack, except she was carrying a giant fork in her hand. On the last bounce down it must have gone through her back and it looked to us like she was stabbed in the back.”

            “Security to the Captain.” The comm blared.

            “Captain here.” I said.

            “Sir we have a situation in the kitchen. I think you should come down here Sir.” The security officer sounded angry.

            “Is the ship in danger?” I asked.

            “No Sir.” He said.

            “Are the passengers in danger?” I asked

            “No sir. “ He said.

            “Tell me what’s going on.” I asked.

            “We caught chef’s assistant Wayland tampering with a meal requested by you sir.” He said.

            “What was he doing?” I asked.

            “He was putting a substance into the soup the chef made sir. We also found several containers of unknown substances on his person. Corpsman Denzer caught him sir. “He’s in custody here.” He said.

            “Son of a bitch!” Said Stu. “I’ll ream his…”

            I waved my hand for silence. “Yes, hold him in the kitchen, two guards and keep him in restraints. Have Denzer wait there, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” I said.

            “Ok, the shellfish was probably tainted by him. That’s one mystery solved.” I said.

            “Isn’t it likely that he’s the killer?” Stu asked.

            “Maybe he is. Dave, what kind of clearance do you have to have to change the polarity of the deck plates?” I asked.

            “ Only the flight crew, myself, two Company engineers, and one of the security techs have access to that level of ship control. Frankly Sir, no one I know has ever touched the gravity controls. This is a luxury liner. Except for the kids no one wants to go upside down in zero G. Passengers pay through the nose for Earth normal gravity.” He said.

            I put all the names of people who had access into the computer and had the AI do a search for someone accessing or changing deck plate polarity. Two names popped up. I was horrified and did not look up at any of my men.

            “Captain’s Mast will reconvene in the kitchen, five minutes.” I said and opened the hatch.

            When the men had gone I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. One of my own crew had tried to poison me and one of them had killed a passenger. I didn’t know if my career would survive this. I may even have been liable in the person’s death. I strapped on a sidearm, made an adjustment to the duty roster, entered several override commands and went to confront Chuck Wayland.

            I called my executive officer to inform her of my plan. “Geena, we’ve caught the murderer. I’m going to arrest that person shortly. You have the ship for now. Be careful.” I said.

            “Aye, Aye, Sir.” She said.

            In the kitchen Wayland was cuffed and guarded by two large security techs, retired marines by the look of them. Corpsman Denzer was running an analysis of little glass tubes filled with a clear liquid. Stu, Dave, and Scudder were standing with their arms folded, glaring at Wayland. He looked scared.

            “What do you have Denzer?” I asked, not looking at Wayland.

            “Well sir, preliminary reports show Mr. Wayland had in his possession two vials of the naturally occurring toxin that made Captain Stevens and Lieutenant Sterling sick. Also In his possession was an agent that would induce irreversible coma if ingested. He was putting that in the chicken soup. I have samples of everything and both security officers have observed me following the chain of evidence rules.”

            “Thank you Denzer. There will be a preliminary hearing when we get back and you’ll have to testify as to what you discovered.” I turned to face Chuck. “You’re going into deep freeze Wayland, before we put you under do you wish to confess to the murder of Mrs. Elizabeth Whitesail?” I asked. “Speak up if you wish, everything’s being recorded and your lawyer will get a copy of the recording.”

            Wayland had tears in his eyes and was breathing fast. “I never touched her…sir. She was carrying contraband. I found it when I delivered a meal to her room. She had all kinds of forbidden literature and religious tracts. I told her that I’d report her as soon as we got to Saturn One if she didn’t give me a million credits. She laughed and told me she didn’t care and that she’d tell the Company I tried to blackmail her. Honest to God Sir!” He said.

            “Go on.” I said.

            “I asked her again before dinner. She came to the galley to see what was on the menu. I was holding a serving fork and she grabbed it out of my hand when I confronted her. She actually threatened me with it! I got angry and started walking towards her, she was still holding the fork. Then I heard my boss coming so I ran back in the kitchen and locked the door, hoping she’d forget the whole thing. I panicked because she was found dead a few minutes later with the meat fork but I swear I didn’t kill her!” He said. Tears were coming down his face. It was pitiful.

            I whispered in to Wayland’s ear. “The penalty for murder on a luxury ship like this by a non-bonded, enlisted crewman was to be ejected into space, no appeals.”

I said in a normal tone of voice, “Did you kill Elizabeth Whitesail?”

“No Sir! Honest to God Sir, I don’t know how she died!” He said.

One of the security techs was getting readings with a medi-scanner.

            “Zimmer? Is he telling the truth?” I asked.

            “He’s telling the truth sir. Heart rate, pupil dilation, and blood pressure all indicate he’s not covering up anything.”

            “Why the poison Wayland?” I asked.

            “When I saw you convening the Captain’s Mast I was sure I’d be blamed. I thought the old bat left a note behind or we were recorded talking in her cabin. I don’t know. I thought if I could cause enough trouble with the flight crew I could jump ship as soon as we got within system range. I have a brother on the ring station, don’t know, I wasn’t thinking.” He broke into sobs.

            “I’ve had enough, put him on ice, search his cabin and write up a report. You had suspicions Denzer?” I asked.

            “Yes Sir, I went through the crew files and looked for anyone who’d been in legal trouble. Wayland had a juvenile record that was still sealed. He was the only crewman who had one. I watched him work in the kitchen from the flight surgeon’s console while Captain Stevens was sick, and again a little while ago. I had a hunch sir.  I know I overstepped my authority as acting surgeon Sir.” She said to Stu.

            “You showed initiative Denzer.” Said Stu.

            “Under the circumstances I think you’ve earned the right to some leeway.” I said.

            “Thank you Sir. But, Sir, if he isn’t the murderer then who is?” She asked.

            “The murderer is safely tucked away.” I said.

            At that moment a klaxon sounded. The computer said, “All hands to life ships. Atmosphere breach in progress. All hands to life ships. All passengers…”

            “Computer, override angel twelve.” I said. I’d been expecting something like this.

            “All passengers to life ships for life ship drill…” The computer continued.

            I sighed. “We need a life ship drill before we reach Saturn, now’s a good a time as any. Denzer, prep Wayland for freeze. Everyone else to your stations.”

            Stu and Dave and Scudder made their way to the emergency bridge station below my ready room. I observed and walked among the passengers making their way to the life ships and assisted some that were lost. The Company required that I do this to project a caring face. As soon as the AI reported the drill was a success I made my way to the emergency bridge.

            “Report.” I said.

            “All systems are functioning normally. Life support, gravity, engines are all normal. The main flight deck is locked down per your command.” Said Stu.

“How did you know Sir?” Asked Dave.

“I traced the command to my console on the bridge. Since I knew I didn’t kill her it left only one person. Apparently she tried to eject our atmosphere into space by opening the outer and inner hatches. I had an override command in place so that none of her bridge commands would work if she overrode any fail safes.” I said.

            “You have the bridge Stu.” I said.

            “Aye Aye Sir.” He said.

            I went upstairs to the main bridge, collecting two security techs on the way.

            “Wait here, have a freezer unit sent up with a corpsman.” I said.

            “Command override angel twelve.” I said, and the door opened.

            Captain Rideout was laying on the floor in the dark. I put my hand into the flight deck experimentally. It was pulled down by six times normal gravity. I could hear her gasping for breath.

            “Computer, restore normal gravity to the main bridge, override angel twelve.” I said.

            Her head moved up an inch, then two, then fell back down to the deck. I stood above her looking at her beautiful black hair spread out above her, an angel with a dark halo.

            “Computer return running lights to the bridge.” I said. The bridge was bathed in diffuse red light.

            I’d wait until we got to Saturn station and let the engineers turn back flight control back to the main bridge. There was no telling what mischief she’d managed to perform between the time I figured it out and the time she went down on the deck.

            “My leg’s broken.” She said, wincing.

            I sat in my command chair and looked at the bridge monitors, all of which were shut off. I’d never been on a ship whose bridge monitors and controls were completely off before.       

“It looks so strange with all the lights off, like a dead person. Don’t you think?” I asked.

            “I saw it dark like this in dry-dock when they were re-fitting the ‘Journey Star’. It is weird.” She said.

`           She tried to sit up again but couldn’t.

“I think my back is broken. My legs are numb.” She said.

            “Don’t try to move. A medic will be here in a few minutes to patch you up before we put you into deep freeze.” I said.

            “Do you expect a confession?” She said.

            “No, I don’t. I expect you to be court marshaled and dumped into space, alive. I hear it’s an agonizing way to die. Probably not as terrifying as being stuck in a sixty cycle per second gravity loop and then having a giant fork stuck through your chest.” I said.

            Looking down at Geena Rideout I almost pitied her. She’d been my flight engineer and executive officer for six years, my girlfriend for two. It was convenient and it would probably end my career, if she told, if anyone cared.

            “This will probably end my career.” I said.

            “Don’t worry, everyone knows about us anyway. The recorders are off right?” She asked.

            I nodded, but the recorders were never off.

            “Well, in the interest of fair play I’ll tell you a true story. Could I have some water?” She asked.

            “No, tell your story.” I said, and leaned back in my chair.

            “Let me tell you about two sisters, Elizabeth and Eve. They grew up in the Von Raven Community in Germany, you know, those religious nuts in Germany who never use modern technology or medicine. The two sisters were very different. Elizabeth wanted to get out of the community and live a normal life in the twenty-second century. Eve wanted to marry a farmer, pray, and make babies. The problem was, the farmer in question, Jeremiah, loved Elizabeth, not Eve. The sisters met a man from the outside world who came to visit the community. He was smitten with Elizabeth. Elizabeth was pledged to marry Jeremiah but fell in love with and got pregnant by this outsider. A scandal ensued and Elizabeth was sequestered away from this bad man from the world.”

“Frederick Uterich?” I asked.

“Yes, don’t interrupt. After the baby was born Elizabeth abandoned it. This child was given to her auntie Eve and her farmer husband, Jeremiah, and raised as their own. Since Jeremiah couldn’t have Elizabeth, whom he was smitten with, he took her sister Eve as a consolation prize.           

Elizabeth found her way to Frederick who married her. Eventually, the daughter she abandoned learned the truth about her birth parents and tried to contact them because she too wanted to live in the modern world. The mother never acknowledged her daughter in any way and the father wanted nothing to do with her. I really need that water Tom. It’s over there on the floor.” She pointed to a water bottle.

            “Keep going, you’re almost done.” I said. I picked up the bottle and opened it, sniffing the contents.

            “The daughter eventually left the community, purchased a new identity, and went to a Company school, earning her flight engineer degree. The mother and father still failed to acknowledge their daughter though.” She said.

            “That’s a sad story.” I said.

            “It’s a fortune, the Uterich money. It should all have been mine. My birth wasn’t recorded in a Company hospital so I couldn’t inherit the billions of credits that Frederick Uterich, my father, had amassed. Even if I had proved by DNA that I was his heir, it’s illegal for any of the Von Raven’s to inherit from Company derived profits. Can you believe it? Unless you have any questions I’ll have that water now.” She said.

            “No water, I have many questions. Why did your mother sign over the patents to Uterich?” I asked.

            “Elizabeth, mommy, was doing research with Frederick and everyone thought he was on the verge of discovering a way to instantly communicate to ships in deep space. You can imagine how that would change things. Frederick was smart but it was mama who did the math and made it work. Even though she escaped the Von Raven’s she still held suspicions about new technology and the Company in general. She held out on them. The Company threatened her with the destruction of the Von Raven’s if she didn’t give them what they wanted. Her sister, her parents, and everyone there would be lazed from space if she didn’t hand it over to them. She was promised wealth beyond her wildest dreams if she cooperated. She made the Company to promise not to do anything to the Von Raven’s in exchange for her work. Out of a sense of guilt, I guess, she signed the patents over to Frederick. Maybe she thought it was blood money? I’ve heard that she set up an extra layer of protection for the Von Raven’s. If the Company tries to do anything to them something terrible will happen. That may just be a myth. Still, the Company in Germany has taken a hands-off approach to them and let them live in peace. I, for one, don’t care if the entire place was turned into a parking lot.”

            “So you killed her for revenge?” I asked.

“All that money should have been mine! I should be a passenger on one of these things, not a bus driver.” She spit the words out.

Clearly some of the anger I’d seen in her came from more than just, ‘Daddy abandoned us” as she told me when we were first getting to know one another. Things about her that I questioned now made a terrible kind of sense.

“So that’s it? You killed her just because of the money?” I asked.

“Just the money? Do you know how much money he was worth?” She laughed. “He could buy a ship like this. I should have lived a life of privilege and comfort from my birth. I should never have to have worked a day in my life. I was plucking chickens when I was six, making sweaters by hand when I was eight, and driving a horse drawn cart from village to village when I was ten. When I was twelve a friend showed me pictures of the world outside and I knew I didn’t belong in the eighteenth century. I knew I was destined for more than just being a milk maid for some dirty thick-sculled farmer Do you know what farm animals smell like in the summer? Have you ever been up to your elbows in calf blood? Did you ever sit through four hours of church every Sunday, and get up at four in the morning to pray before milking the goats? You know that the Von Raven’s don’t practice birth control or do life extension treatments. I looked twenty years younger than you but I should look younger still. I’ll have that water now.” She said.

“No, tell me about Chuck Wayland.” I asked.

“Oh…I knew who ‘Mrs. Whitesail’ was as soon as I looked at the passenger manifest. Of course I never expected her to fly in space at all, never mind on a ship I was piloting. She must have freaked after Frederick died. I knew I’d never see the money I was owed. It was a chance in a lifetime to get back at her, for everything. First I hinted to Wayland that she probably had contraband religious stuff and he should shake her down. I knew she was bringing bibles and books she’d inherited from Eve to Jeremiah. Chuck’s a weasel and I knew that he’d go for it. She wasn’t afraid though. Maybe she was too old to blackmail? She stayed alone most of the time and I was lucky enough to cause her accident when you were on the bridge but engrossed in writing a report. I thought a nice heart attack or stroke would have killed her but she had that stupid fork in her hand and that ruined everything. It was the perfect crime, almost. I’ll have that water now.” She said.

“I didn’t suspect you until the last moment. You know Wayland from where? He only signed on this trip.” I asked, dreading the answer.

She looked at me with true sorrow in her eyes. “. He was easier to manipulate if… I’m sorry Tom.” She looked away.

“So am I.” I said.

“I really need that drink.” She said.

I was on the verge of tears and bit my lip like an eight- year old whose lost his dog. I held the bottle and wondered if it would be more merciful to give it to her. She looked at me expectantly.

“A gentleman to the last.” She said. “When you get to Saturn One, tell Daddy I’m sorry. I never spoke to them after I left when I was eighteen. He moved out there to live with a distant nephew after mama…my aunt died. He still loved Elizabeth after all those years. Can you imagine? The idiot.”

She tried to move her leg and winced in pain. I heard the freezer unit being moved outside the flight deck.

 “No, on second thought don’t tell him anything about me. Losing Elizabeth again will be enough heartache.” She said.

I motioned to the medic to come in and get her ready. I left her lying on the ground, crying, as her leg was splinted and she was prepped for deep freeze.

Before she was put under I thought I heard her say, “Oh God, please don’t let me die.” I couldn’t be sure because my German wasn’t that good. I went back down to the emergency bridge to make my full report.

Everyone who knew about us gave me room to grieve, but I didn’t need it. I’d hadn’t been “in touch” with my feelings since I’d been with Jennifer and I didn’t plan on getting re-acquainted with them now.

There was a board of inquiry on Saturn. My passengers were given a free trip, all expenses paid, to an outer planet of their choice. They still found something to complain about. Of course they were all sworn to secrecy. The saddest part of the trip was meeting Jeremiah Strauss, Elizabeth’s smitten brother-in-law and telling him the news that she was dead.

He was in the greeting bay, waiting for her with a nurse at his side. The Von Raven’s didn’t ascribe to modern medicine, trusting in God and hard work to live past one hundred years old without life extension treatments. He was sitting in an old fashioned wheelchair, holding a crystal vase of white flowers in his bent, arthritic fingers. Half his face appeared slack, from a stroke perhaps. I knelt down to speak to him.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news for you sir.” I began.

There was a fresh red rose in the lapel of his black suit jacket.

“I lost a daughter, my own flesh and blood, a long time ago, now her mother. ” He said after I’d told him the bad news.

On the return trip to Earth I thought about what he’d said to me, about how it might have been easier for the ultra-religious Von Raven’s to blame an outsider for getting one of their young women pregnant than one of their own smitten boys. I’ll never know for sure.

As for the rest of the story, it is now a matter of public record. I attached a Company memo for comparison’s sake. The only thing I know for sure is that Denzer’s going to be an M.D. She sent me a note and we’re having dinner next time I’m there. It’s purely platonic since she’s young enough to be my granddaughter but she’s a good woman, like Jennifer.

Maybe you can look up Jennifer for me? She was still living in town last I heard. There are probably things I should have told her last time I saw her. I don’t want her to think that I blame her in any way for…well you know. If you wouldn’t mind maybe you could come to the cemetery with me. I know I couldn’t get there by myself, just need a little help.

Tell Matt and Gary their uncle looks forward to spending time with them when he gets back. Skip and I can play poker, smoke cigars, and stink up your basement. I’ll see you all soon and we can go water skiing at the lake.

Your meatloaf is priceless.

Be well sister,

Love,

Tom

Company Memo 89I342JPP:

Pursuant to the incident on the cruiser Star Princess the following information is authorized for immediate release.

On January 12 of this year an incident occurred on the Star Princess involving operator error by the ship’s flight engineer which resulted in the death of a passenger from a stress induced heart attack. Third Officer Geena Rideout has resigned her commission and her current whereabouts are unknown.

Captain Thomas Taylor has been promoted to Supervising Captain First Class.

For her actions above and beyond the call of duty during a food poisoning crisis, which incapacitated the Ship’s Flight Surgeon, and several hundred passengers, Corpsman Lisa Denzer is to receive a full scholarship to Flight Surgeon School, Mars Campus.

Crewman Charles Wayland, a galley assistant, was lost during transit to Saturn when he mistakenly opened an airlock to space while attempting an unauthorized repair on a food-recycling unit.

The End