Eye
of the NeedleEye
of the NeedleYes, they were right where the little lady said they would be. The Supplies technician pulled out the two rectangular packages that were blocking and stabilizing the CPU and, from a different crate, the soft, malleable packages that were cushioning the delicate transceivers. He had to dig a bit more, and in yet a third crate, but he finally located the half-meter long, narrow cylindrical tube wedged in the corner. He had a feeling that these items were not exactly part of the interstellar transmitter that this series of crates were to contain. However, as they had passed all the security checks of man, machine and canine that insured no contraband or illegal explosives made it to Alpha, he wasn’t going to report them. He suspected the pretty little thing was just including a few personal items. Well, who was he to gainsay a few gee-gaws to help pass the time on a long nine-month tour up here? The large, rather heavy packages were books by the feel of them. Actually, it was a clever way to get a few more kilos added to the skimpy personal-items weight allowance. How would she have known that she would not be the first one to unpack the crates up here?
Now that he had recovered the items, he had to think of how to get them to the young lady. It simply would not do for him to be seen delivering them to her quarters. Why, he was a decently married man, and could almost be her grandfather, besides. She had been so very distressed to find out that she could not access the crates until cleared by Alphan security that they had failed to make provisions for a hand-off. He looked around as if the solution to his problem might be in the Eagle bay, and in fact, he smiled to himself, it was.
"Lieutenant Carter? Can I ask a favor?" he called to the newly reassigned Australian pilot. He had always liked the man; he had no where near the attitude that many of the hot-shot Eagle pilots had.
"G’day, Harry, still here, are you?" Alan walked over and shook the man’s hand.
"Eyah, for a few more weeks, in any case. Then it’s back to Maine and the missus where I belong."
"Will you send up a few lobsters when you get back?"
"Well, if you come and get them. Lieutenant, I’ll have them waiting. That way they’ll be nice and fresh."
"It’s a deal," laughed Alan. "Now, what can I do for you?"
"I have a few packages that need to be delivered to a new member of Data Analysis, and it wouldn’t do for me to be the one doing the delivering."
Alan quirked an eyebrow.
"I’m married."
Alan was, frankly, at a loss as to Harry’s reasoning, but knew that Harry Fields was very proper and honorable and would never ask him to do anything unethical, although he might bend the rules a bit for a good cause. He was a fellow career military man and had been an NCO in the U.S. Navy for twenty-two years before being assigned to Alpha. "Alright, what do you want delivered, where and to whom," Alan held out his hands with a smile.
Harry turned back to the top of the crate and picked up the two books, the cylinder and three other small, soft packages. He placed them in Alan’s waiting hands. "Here. I don’t think any are fragile. She used them as packaging material. Clever girl."
Alan’s curiosity was now out in full. The large ones were books; he could feel the spines, hard covers and the recessed pages, but like Harry had found, there was no indication to the purposes of the others.
"They belong to Sandra Benes, I’m not exactly sure where her assigned quarters are."
"Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out."
And that was why, Harry thought, the pilot would be a good choice as postman. No one would think twice of Alan Carter stopping by the personal quarters of a pretty, young lady.
Alan headed toward the residential wing, keeping an eye out for any purple-sleeved security. Since he couldn’t really explain what he was delivering, he would rather avoid the fuss altogether. He stopped by his quarters first. He had not even had time to unpack himself, not that he carried much with him. Years in the military had taught him that. He had arrived for his second tour two days ago and had spent much of the intervening time up in an Eagle.
He walked over and sat at the computer terminal and accessed the personnel records. He did not have much seniority on Alpha, and would only be able to access the most superficial of information, but it would be a start. He typed in the woman’s name, having to guess several times on how to spell ‘Benes.’ What he found out was that when Harry called her a ‘clever girl’, he wasn’t far off. Although she was only twenty-five years old, and looked much younger in her official photograph, her credentials were impressive. She held two degrees, one from McGill University in Montreal and another from Oxford, U.K. She was listed as working on her doctoral research, but not at which school. That was either an oversight… or, just maybe, he thought, classified. Alan attempted the same query using his RAAF security clearance, but returned the same lack of an answer. Interesting.
She had already authored several papers in very prestigious journals concerning the new interstellar transmitter, the theory behind it and the practical applications for deep space travel. Two of the older papers had been co-authored with Lawrence Benes. Now that was a name he recognized. With that unusual last time, he would bet they were related. Maybe father and daughter. Alan leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the sofa table; he regarded the mystery packages as he thought through his discoveries. Alan had never met the man, but his research into deep space communication was well known to every astronaut. It was also notoriously known that Benes would not leave Earth, and in fact, sharply limited even his terrestrial flying. Alan supposed this ‘Sandra’ was here to work on installing the new modifications of the transmitter into the upcoming Meta Probe. Well, if she had won an appointment up here, she must know her stuff. Pretty, too.
Alan unclipped his commlock and called the packages’ owner. Confirming she was in her quarters, he plotted a course that would hopefully avoid security’s usual haunts. He was curious to find out what he was delivering.
The short trip turned out, unfortunately, to be eventful.
Alan made it down the corridor from his quarters to the elevator, and from the elevator to the section where Sandra Benes was assigned; he even made it to within one doorway of his destination, when not one, but two security members turned the corner. And one was the Chief. Damn. He put a pleasant smile on his face and nodded to pass by, but the Chief had absolute radar when it came to knowing when something was amiss. Alan was convinced it was because she was a grandmother. He could never fool his grandma, either.
"Welcome, Lieutenant. Back for another tour?" Her expression was pleasant, but Alan could tell that Eleanor Parks was suspicious. He really had no reason to be in this section of the residential building, at least at this time of day, and she knew it. If only he hadn’t tried to smuggle up that chocolate and wine on his last tour.
"Yes, Chief." Best to keep it short and honest.
"Did you bring back some treats for your current interest?" Eleanor nodded at ‘his’ packages.
Damn. If he said ‘yes’ and she called him out and wanted to see them, he would be unable to tell her the contents of the small packages and the cylinder. If he said ‘no’, well, then, she would have all rights to inspect them. Why hadn’t he peeked back in his quarters? Good manners be damned.
Just then, Alan heard a wonderful sound. A delicate, classical melody whistled by someone who had enough clout to rescue him. If he would. Victor Bergman rounded the corner, deep in thought. He stopped short as the two security officers strategically blocked the corridor while incidentally keeping the orange-sleeved pilot from proceeding.
"Ah, Alan, so nice to see you again. Did you have a good trip back up?"
"Yes, Professor. I was recalled to help with the Meta Probe. I was about to check in with you." The Meta Probe was the Professor’s pet project. If Alan could just get him talking about it, he should be able to navigate an escape from Eleanor Parks and friend. Alan’s expression oozed innocence and sincerity.
"Yes, I see." The professor studied the tableau in front of him for a moment, whistling, as he rocked gently up and down on the balls of his feet, hands clasped behind his back.
Come on, Professor, I haven’t done anything wrong. Not yet, anyhow. See how innocent I am? Just send the nice Security Chief on her way. Alan thought, smile still on his face, wishing fervently for telepathy. While the man could do a good imitation of the absent-minded-professor-type, Alan knew Bergman could be quite shrewd when he chose. Please be so now. He really didn’t need to end up on the outs with the Chief, not to mention the Commander, quite so soon in his current assignment.
Casually turning to the woman at his side, Victor smiled charmingly. "Eleanor, I have just received a new shipment of tea. I would so enjoy the company of someone who knows how to appreciate it. Care to join me?"
Right. That was one of Eleanor’s weak spots.
"Thank you, Victor, I most certainly well. Lieutenant,…"
Alan sighed behind his permanently affixed smile.
"… shall we meet in the gym tonight, say 1900 hours, to see how well you’ve maintained your fitness while Earthside?"
"Yes, Chief." Alan now did sigh. The young security officer snickered. Even though she was almost twenty years Alan’s senior, Eleanor could still put any Alphan flat on her, or his, back. Alan was already counting the bruises he would have in the morning. Military training or no, the Chief was a tough opponent. Alan just hoped it wouldn’t be too painful to sit in an Eagle tomorrow.
As soon as the Professor had escorted Eleanor away, Alan did use his rank to silently convince the younger security man to move along. As he gathered the packages into one hand, he walked the short way down the corridor to his destination. He tapped the proper codes on his commlock to let the occupant know he was there, and as the door opened very quickly, Alan guessed she must have been waiting on the other side. The person who faced him was tiny, physically smaller than any person he had ever seen in the space program; the thought briefly crossed Alan’s mind that they must have made a special space suit just for her. She looked at him apprehensively. She looked young enough to be one of the college interns that won three-month appointments to Alpha, only the yellow sleeve showed different. She glanced at his sleeve and then relaxed.
"Nah, I’m not security. Can I drop these off, though?" He motioned at her packages. "I’d hate to get busted standing out here in the corridor. They’ve come so far." She stood back and let him enter. He placed his load on the small sofa table and turned to introduce himself, holding out a friendly hand. "Alan Carter, pilot. Welcome to Alpha."
"Thank you. I am Sandra Benes, Data Analysis," she shook his hand briefly, then let go. "How did you end up with…." She gestured to the sofa table and its new contents.
"Right place at the right time," Alan smiled and then became more sober. "You took a chance. The Security Chief has no sense of humor. She would’ve written you up in no time if she had found out."
Sandra nodded solemnly. "I am sorry to have inconvenienced you, and put you at risk."
Alan chuckled, "No problem. I’m always in trouble for something or another." That was true enough. He knew it was only that he could out-fly anyone else here on Alpha that got him his re-appointment. He tended to be a little too casual about regulations, and that could upset the powers-that-be at times.
"May I ask, what did I just deliver?" The young woman, Sandra he remembered, blushed. Alan thought she would refuse to show him, but his gallantry, not to mention his brush with security, had apparently earned him the right.
"Nothing much. Just books and needlework." She walked over and unwrapped the two, very thick books and handed them to Alan. The Complete Sherlock Holmes and The Darkover Saga. He had never heard of the latter. Sandra then carefully unwrapped the three small packages and handed him one to see. It was full of tiny skeins of richly colored threads. "The other two are the same, and the tube holds the fabric to work on. It is a hobby." She gave an apologetic shrug.
Alan’s Auntie Ann had done the same, he recalled from his childhood visits to Perth. "Don’t you need, ah, patterns?" Alan recalled the papers covered with blindingly small symbols that, somehow, ended up making a pot of flowers or a basketful of kittens.
"I e-mailed them to Alpha just before I left." Now she did look very embarrassed.
Alan chuckled at her discomfort as he returned the embroidery threads. "Don’t feel silly, we all need hobbies to keep from going a bit mad up here. There are jigsaw puzzles by the dozens lying about, and quite a few chess sets for the brainy types." Alan bet she could play chess.
Sandra looked shy and awkward to Alan. She was about the size of his twelve-year-old niece, and had the same air of vulnerability. She had to be tops in her field to get to Alpha, though, especially at her age, but she did look like she needed a friend.
"Would you like to go to lunch? I can give you a better tour than the one you probably got."
"Thank you, no. I am needed back on duty."
Alan was vaguely disappointed. "Alright, call me if you change you mind. G’day." Alan smiled at her one last time and stepped out of her quarters to head back to Eagle Bay 3. He’d let Harry know the mission was accomplished, and then scout out what changes had been made in the past few months.
Something about the new Alphan caused Alan to be, for him, very formal, and on his best behavior. Her initial look of apprehension had caused him to rein in his usually buoyant manner. She had seemed very nice, and he liked her accent, although he couldn’t place its origin. Well, they were both just starting their tours. He would have time to get to know her better, at least a little, before they inevitably parted ways.
MGK