Redshirts: A Novel Part 8

Duvall rolled her eyes. "This is about your current obsession, isn't it," she said. "I swear, Andy, ever since you got a bug in your a.s.s about Jenkins you're no fun anymore. Ten whole days of brooding. Lighten up, you moody b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

Dahl smiled at this. "I'll be quick, I promise. Where will you guys be?"

"I've got us a suite at the station Hyatt," Hanson said. "Meet us there. We'll be the ones quickly losing our sobriety."

Finn pointed to Hester. "And in his case, his virginity."

"Nice," Hester said, but then actually grinned.

"Be there in a few," Dahl promised.

"Better be!" Hanson said, and then he and the rest wandered down the corridor, laughing and joking. Dahl watched them go and then headed to the shopping area of the station, looking for a wave station.

He found one wedged between a coffee shop and a tattoo parlor. It was barely larger than a kiosk and had only three wave terminals in it, one of which was out of service. A drunken crewman of another ship was loudly arguing into one of the others. Dahl took the third.

"Welcome to SurfPoint Hyperwave," the monitor read, and then listed the per-minute cost of opening a wave. A five-minute wave would eat most of his pay for the week, but this was not entirely surprising to Dahl. It took a large amount of energy to open up a tunnel in s.p.a.ce/time and connect in real time with another terminal light-years away. Energy cost money.

Dahl took out the anonymous credit chit he kept on hand for things he didn't want traced directly to his own credit account and placed it on the payment square. The monitor registered the chit and opened up a "send" panel. Dahl spoke a phone address back at Academy and waited for the connection. He was pretty sure that the person he was calling would be awake and moving about. The Dub U kept all of its ships and stations on Universal Time because otherwise the sheer number of day lengths and time zones would make it impossible for anyone to do anything, but the Academy was in Boston. Dahl couldn't remember how many time zones behind that was.

The person on the other end of the line picked up, audio only. "Whoever you are, you're interrupting my morning jog," she said.

Dahl grinned. "Morning, Casey," he said. "How's my favorite librarian?"

"s.h.i.t! Andy!" Casey said. A second later the video feed kicked in and Casey Zane popped up, smiling, the USS Const.i.tution behind her.

"Jogging the Freedom Trail again, I see," Dahl said.

"The bricks make it easy to follow," Casey said. "Where are you?"

"About three hundred light-years away, and paying for every inch of it on this hyperwave," Dahl said.

"Got it," Casey said. "What do you need?"

"The Academy Archive would have blueprints of every ship in the fleet, right?" Dahl asked.

"Sure," Casey said. "All the ones that the Dub U wants to acknowledge exist, anyway."

"Any chance they'd be altered or tampered with?"

"From the outside? No," Casey said. "The archives don't connect to outside computer systems, partly to avoid hacking. All data has to go through a live librarian. That's job security for you."

"I suppose it is," Dahl said. "Is there any chance I can get you to send me a copy of the Intrepid blueprints?"

"I don't think they're cla.s.sified, so it shouldn't be a problem," Casey said. "Although I might have to redact some information about the computer and weapons systems."

"That's fine," Dahl said. "I'm not interested in those anyway."

"That said, you're actually on the Intrepid," Casey said. "You should be able to get the blueprints out of the ship's database."

"I can," Dahl said. "There have been some changes to a few systems on board and I think it'll be useful to have the original blueprints for compare and contrast."

"Okay," Casey said. "I'll do it when I get back to the archives. A couple of hours at least."

"That's fine," Dahl said. "Also, do me a favor and send it to this address, not my Dub U address." He recited an alternate address, which he had created anonymously on a public provider while he was at the Academy.

"You know I have to record the information request," Casey said. "That includes the address to which I'm sending the information."

"I'm not trying to hide from the Dub U," Dahl said. "No spy stuff, I swear."

"Says the man using an anonymous public hyperwave terminal to call one of his best friends, rather than routing it through his own phone," Casey said.

"I'm not asking you to commit treason," Dahl said. "Cross my heart."

"All right," Casey said. "We're pals and all, but espionage isn't in my job description."

"I owe you one," Dahl said.

"You owe me dinner," Casey said. "The next time you're in town. The life of an archive librarian isn't that horribly exciting, you know. I need to live vicariously."

"Trust me, at this point I'm seriously considering taking up the life of a librarian myself," Dahl said.

"Now you're just pandering," Casey said. "I'll wave you the stuff when I get in the office. Now get off the line before you don't have any money left."

Dahl grinned again. "Later, Casey," he said.

"Later, Andy," she said, and disconnected.

There was a guest in the suite when Dahl got there.

"Andy, you know Lieutenant Kerensky," Duvall said, in a curiously neutral tone of voice. She and Hester were on either side of Kerensky, who had an arm around each of them. They seemed to be propping him up.

"Sir," Dahl said.

"Andy!" Kerensky said, slurringly. He disengaged from Duvall and Hester, took two stumbling steps and clapped Dahl on the shoulder with the hand that was not holding his drink. "We are on sh.o.r.e leave! We leave rank behind us. To you, right now, I am just Anatoly. Go on, say it."

"Anatoly," Dahl said.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Kerensky said. He drained his drink. "I appear to be out of a drink," he said, and wandered off. Dahl raised an eyebrow at Duvall and Hester.

"He spotted us just before we entered the hotel and attached himself like a leech," Duvall said.

"A drunken leech," Hester said. "He was blasted before we got here."

"A drunken h.o.r.n.y leech," Duvall said. "The reason he has his arm around my shoulder is so he can grope my t.i.t. Lieutenant or not, I'm about to kick his a.s.s."

"Right now the plan is to get him drunk enough to pa.s.s out before he attempts to molest Duvall," Hester said. "Then we dump him down a laundry chute."

"s.h.i.t, here he comes again," Duvall said. Kerensky was indeed stumbling back toward the trio. His progress was more lateral than forward. He stopped to get his bearings.

"Why don't you leave him to me," Dahl said.

"Seriously?" Duvall said.

"Sure, I'll baby-sit him until he pa.s.ses out," Dahl said.

"Man, I owe you a b.l.o.w.j.o.b," Duvall said.

"What?" Dahl said.

"What?" Hester said.

"Sorry," Duvall said. "In ground forces, when someone does you a favor you tell them you owe them a s.e.x act. If it's a little thing, it's a handjob. Medium, b.l.o.w.j.o.b. Big favor, you owe them a f.u.c.k. Force of habit. It's just an expression."

"Got it," Dahl said.

"No actual b.l.o.w.j.o.b forthcoming," Duvall said. "To be clear."

"It's the thought that counts," Dahl said, and turned to Hester. "What about you? You want to owe me a b.l.o.w.j.o.b, too?"

"I'm thinking about it," Hester said.

"What's this I hear about b.l.o.w.j.o.bs?" Kerensky said, finally wobbling up.

"Okay, yes, one owed," Hester said.

"Excellent," Dahl said. "See the two of you later, then." Hester and Duvall backed away precipitately.

"Where are they going?" Kerensky asked, blinking slowly.

"They're planning a birthday party," Dahl said. "Why don't you have a seat, sir." He motioned to one of the couches in the suite.

"Anatoly," Kerensky said. "G.o.d, I hate it when people use rank on sh.o.r.e leave." He fell heavily onto the couch, miraculously not spilling his drink. "We're all brothers in the service, you know? Well, except those of us who are sisters." He peered around, looking for Duvall. "I like your friend."

"I know," Dahl said, also sitting.

"She saved my life, you know," Kerensky said. "She's an angel. You think she likes me?"

"No," Dahl said.

"Why not?" Kerensky blithered, hurt. "Does she like women or something?"

"She's married to her job," Dahl said.

"Oh, well, married," Kerensky said, apparently not hearing the rest of what Dahl said. He drank some more.

"You mind if I ask you a question?" Dahl said.

With the hand not holding his drink, Kerensky made little waving motions as if to say, Go ahead.

"How do you heal so quickly?" Dahl asked.

"What do you mean?" Kerensky asked.

"Remember when you got the Merovian Plague?"

"Of course," Kerensky said. "I almost died."

"I know," Dahl said. "But then a week later you were leading the away team I was on."

"Well, I got better, you see," Kerensky said. "They found a cure."

"Yes," Dahl said. "I was the one who brought the cure to Commander Q'eeng."

"That was you?" Kerensky said, and then lunged at Dahl, enveloping him in a bear hug. Kerensky's drink slopped up the side of the gla.s.s and deposited itself down the back of Dahl's neck. "You saved my life too! This room is filled with people who saved my life. I love you all." Kerensky started weeping.

"You're welcome," Dahl said, prying the sobbing lieutenant off his body as delicately as he could. He was aware of everyone else in the room studiously ignoring what was happening on the couch. "My point was, even with a cure, you healed quickly. And then you were seriously injured on the away mission I was on. And yet a couple of days later you were fine."

"Oh, well, you know, modern medicine is really good," Kerensky said. "Plus, I've always been a fast healer. It's a family thing. We've got stories about one of my ancestors, in the Great Patriotic War? He was in Stalingrad. Took, like, twenty shots from n.a.z.i bullets and still kept coming at them. He was unreal, man. So I inherited that gene, maybe." He looked down at his drink. "I know I had more drink than this," he said.

"It's a good thing you heal so fast, considering how often you get hurt," Dahl ventured.

"I know!" Kerensky said, suddenly and forcefully. "Thank you! No one else notices! I mean, what the h.e.l.l is up with that? I'm not stupid, or clumsy, or anything. But every time I go on an away mission I get all f.u.c.ked up. Do you know how many times I've been, like, shot?"

"Three times in the last three years," Dahl said.

"Yes!" Kerensky said. "Plus all the other s.h.i.t that happens to me. You know what it is. f.u.c.king captain and Q'eeng have a voodoo doll of me, or something." He sat there, brooding, and then showed every sign of being about to drift into sleep.

"A voodoo doll," Dahl said, startling Kerensky back into consciousness. "You think so."

"Well, no, not literally," Kerensky said. "Because that's just stupid, isn't it. But it feels like it. It feels like whenever the captain and Q'eeng have an away mission they know is going to be all f.u.c.ked up they say, 'Hey, Kerensky, this is a perfect away mission for you,' and then I go off and, like, get my spleen punctured. And half the time it's some stupid thing I have no idea about, right? I'm an astrogator, man. I am a f.u.c.king brilliant astrogator. I wanna just ... astrogate. Right?"

"Why don't you point that out to the captain and Q'eeng?" Dahl asked.

Kerensky sneered, and his lip quivered at the effort. "Because what the h.e.l.l am I going to say?" he said, and started making Humpty-Dumpty movements. "'Oh, I can't go on this mission, Captain, Commander Q'eeng. Let someone else get stabbed through the eyeball for a change.'" He stopped with the movements and was quiet for a second. "Besides, I don't know. It seems to make sense at the time, you know?"

"No, I don't know," Dahl said.

"When the captain tells me I'm going to be on an away mission, it's like some other part of my brain takes over," Kerensky said. He sounded like he was trying to puzzle through something. "I get all confident and it seems like there's a perfectly good reason for a G.o.dd.a.m.n astrogator to take medical samples, or fight killer machines or whatever. Then I get back on the Intrepid and I think to myself, 'What the f.u.c.k was I just doing?' Because it doesn't make sense, does it?"

"I don't know," Dahl said again.

Kerensky looked lost in thought for a second, and then waved it all away. "Anyway, f.u.c.k it, right?" he said, brightening up. "I lived another day, I'm on sh.o.r.e leave, and I'm with people who saved my life." He lunged at Dahl again, even more sloppily. "I love you, man. I do. Let's get another drink and then go find some hookers. I want a b.l.o.w.j.o.b. You want a b.l.o.w.j.o.b?"

"I've already got two on order," Dahl said. "I'm good."

"Oh, okay," Kerensky said. "That's good." And then he began to snore, his head nestled on Dahl's shoulder.