An Accidental Alliance (26 page)

     
“Well, I’ll just have to add it to the stack of things to be done,” Park told her, pointing at all the paper on his desk.

     
“Do you want some help organizing that?” Marisea asked. “I have time.”

     
“I have it organized well enough,” he told her, explaining how most of it had handled itself.

     
“So you just need someone to bring it to your attention rather than leaving it in your chair?” Marisea interpreted.

     
“It’s not worth hiring someone to do it,” Park told her. “I don’t get that many memos, after all.”

 
    
“You get enough,” Marisea argued. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that for you. I can stop in once a day or so and see if there’s anything waiting for you.”

     
Park argued over that for a few minutes as Marisea knew he would, but eventually he agreed that might not be a bad idea, “but I don’t want you neglecting your school work.”

     
“Of course not,” she laughed. “Now why did you really come here today?”

     
“We’re going up to fix that satellite,” Park told her. “I need to put a crew together, so I came here to look up who’s next on the duty roster for the flight crew.”

     
“I’ll do that for you,” Marisea offered, turning his terminal to face her. She started typing.

     
“Since when do you know how to use a human computer pad?” Park asked. Marisea had learned to read and write in English early on, but he had never seen her use anything but Mer computers.

     
“We have them in school,” Marisea told him. “I’m one of the few who actually use them, though, but I found I can get into human archives more quickly with it, without the translation lag, you know?”

     
“I’ve noticed it goes both ways,” Park nodded

     
“This is a bit different from the others I’ve used,” Marisea noted. “Is it a special model?”

     
“I’ve made a few modifications to suit myself,” Park admitted. “Mostly just wrote some special controls and rearranged the icons a bit. You shouldn’t have that much trouble with it.”

     
“It seems easy enough,” Marisea nodded. “It just looks a bit different from all the others. That’s all.”

    
 
“Yes, that’s all,” Park agreed, “but it’s amazing how many people have trouble with it simply because a few things have been moved around. Okay, Iris will be the navigator this trip, but bring up everyone who is up next for the other standard crew slots. Velvet, that’s Miss Blaire to you, will choose her own repair team. I’ll have to send her a note on the subject…” he trailed off as he suddenly realized, “Wait a minute, you shouldn’t know how to do that.”

     
“Well, I do need a password,” she admitted flashing him the same crooked grin he had shot at her often enough, “but the sections on space missions are easy enough to find.”

     
“I can’t just give you my password,” Park sighed, “but as my aide-de-camp I suppose you’ll need access. What’s your username?”

     
“Marisea1,” Marisea responded.

     
“Okay,” Park nodded and took back the terminal. He logged her off and logged on using his own identity. “If Arn knew I was giving a teenager this kind of access he’d have a fit, so you will not make an issue of this with anyone. Understand?” he tapped and scribbled a few more things into the pad. “Okay, you now have access to most of my work files except for things like others’ personal data and various other private matters. Please do me a favor and only use those files you need to for this job, okay.”

     
“Yes, Park,” Marisea responded seriously. None of her usual playfulness was evident.

     
“All right,” Park nodded. “Log back in and bring those files up for me, please, while I finish this garbage.” He indicated the remaining paper on his desk.

     
Marisea went to work and without needing assistance managed to find the files Park wanted before he had finished reading the more urgent memos. “Where do I print them out?” she asked.

     
“The nearest printer is down the end of the hall,” Park told her. “The top sheet of the print job will have your name on it.”

     
“Okay,” she told him, all business. “I’ll be right back.” And she hop-stepped out of the office. Two minutes later she was back with a small pile of folders.

     
“Where did you get the file folders?” Park asked.

     
“They were in the printer room,” Marisea replied. “I thought you might want to keep these in a file somewhere.”

     
“File?” Park laughed. “I usually throw this stuff out when I’m done with it.”

     
“Park!” Marisea exclaimed, sounding almost like Iris for a moment. “Even I know better than that. Hey, you don’t have a file cabinet in here, do you?”

     
“Just the circular one beside my desk,” Park pointed at the waste basket.

     
“That’s ridiculous,” Marisea argued and started tapping on the pad again.

     
“What are you doing now?” Park asked.

     
“Putting in a requisition for a file cabinet, of course,” Marisea replied practically.

     
“Where would I put it?” Park asked.

     
“In my office, of course,” Marisea told him.

     
“You don’t have an office,” Park retorted.

     
“I do now,” she chuckled. “It’s right next door and I’ve asked for an adjoining door between us, mostly to keep you from having to shout to make me hear you since we both know you can’t be bothered to just use the phone or your torq. I will need my own office, you know, and I checked it out on my way to the printer room. The furniture is already there, but I’ve requisitioned a phone and a pad along with the file. Am I forgetting something?”

     
“Only that this isn’t such a big job that you need an office,” Park replied. “I thought you were just going to bring me the memos.”

     
“Park, that’s just it,” Marisea explained patiently. “If all I do is tote the memos to you, you’ll look at them and throw them away.”

     
“That’s what nearly all of them deserve,” he replied patiently. “Look at this one. A weather report for the day of the launch. Judging from the date and time, I already knew that before it was printed.”

     
“Sure, but you’re handling some of the others aren’t you?” Marisea countered. “You need to keep copies of those and of your replies. Oh don’t look so pained by the thought. I’ll keep them in order for you. Now do you want me to go over the crew list with you?”

     
“No, that’s okay,” Park shook his head. “Why don’t you make sure you have enough pens and pencils in your new office.”

     
“Okay,” Marisea, agreed readily. She got as far as the door before Park stopped her.

   
  
“Wait a minute,” he told her. “What’s this?” He held up one of the folders.

     
“A personnel file, I imagine,” Marisea remarked lightly.

     
“Your personnel file,” Park corrected her. “I’m sorry, hon, but I can’t take you up there. Not this trip in any case.”

     
“Why not?” Marisea demanded. “It’s my turn on the duty roster and I haven’t been up yet.”

     
“That’s part of it,” Park explained. “but if I were to take someone your age into space on a potentially dangerous mission, the entire colony would have my guts for garters.”

     
“Your what for what?” she asked, but Park was not about to be distracted.

     
“No, out of the question, dear,” he shook his head. “Arn wouldn’t allow it even if I did.”

     
She glared at him for a moment before allowing her face to relax. “Oh, all right,” she told him, giving in. “I’ll go see to my office then.”

     
“Right,” Park nodded and got back to work.

     
“Marisea?” Arn asked at the meeting the next morning. “What are you doing here?”

     
“She’s serving as my assistant, Arn,” Park told him immediately.

     
“I’m also part of Miss Blair’s team,” Marisea added.

     
“What?” Park and Arn demanded in unison.

     
Velvet cut in, “I signed her up. Besides, Marisea has been working with my IT people for weeks now.”

     
“She’s just a kid,” Arn told her dismissively.

     
“I am not!” Marisea argued.

     
“She is of age among the Mer, Arn,” Park admitted, “and legally allowed to do something like this.”

     
“On a Mer mission, yes,” Arn retorted, “not a human one.”

     
“Um,” Velvet broke in, holding a hand up to forestall an argument from Marisea. “We have respected Mer laws and traditions in everything else, Arn. It’s a strange time to start changing that now and it would set a bad precedent in any case. Besides, Marisea is absolutely essential to the mission.”

     
“Oh, this I have to hear,” Arn replied sarcastically.

     
“Marisea has smaller hands than anyone else on my team,” Velvet explained. “Even with her spacesuit on, she can reach into places in the satellite the rest of us cannot without bringing it on board the ship and working on it inside, and that we cannot do without setting up a clean room. Even then I would hesitate to try it.”

     
“Do you think we will need Marisea’s small hands to repair the satellite?” Iris asked.

     
“There’s a very good chance that is the case, Iris,” Velvet replied. “Most of the sims keep pointing at one or more of the internal components.”

     
“And you expect me to believe only Marisea is capable of getting at them?”

     
“Without completely dismantling the satellite,” Velvet countered, “yes.”

     
“I don’t like it,” Arn grumbled.

     
“It doesn’t fill me with joy either, Arn,” Park pointed out with a stern look at Marisea, “but Velvet knows her job and if she says Marisea is the go-to girl, we have to take her word for it.” Then he turned toward Marisea and added, “But you and I are going to have a very long talk about courtesy and not going around the boss’ back, young lady.”

     
“I didn’t,” Marisea protested. “Miss Blaire asked me, not the other way around.”

     
“Park, that is the case,” Velvet told him. “Marisea told me you were against it. I would have respected that, but I really believe we’re going to need her and I didn’t ask until half an hour ago. If you’re going to have a long talk with anyone, I’m your target.”

     
“No, Velvet,” Park shook his head in defeat. “I promised you a free rein in your selection of a team. If you want Marisea on it, you have her.”

     
“Thanks, Park!” Marisea told him enthusiastically.

     
“I still haven’t approved this,” Arn growled, causing Marisea to look fearful.

     
“I have, Arn,” Park told him. “This is my project and I made my promise to Velvet. I won’t countermand her decisions and if you do, you’ll need another project leader.”

     
“You know I can’t do that this soon before the launch,” Arn told him.

     
“Neither can I,” Park pointed out. “We’ll just have to move on. Hmm?”

     
“Yeah,” Arn admitted with minimal grace.

     
Park was not particularly happy about Marisea being in the crew, but unlike Arn, he was willing to admit he had been outmaneuvered. Whether Marisea had connived her berth on the
Hendrick Hudson
with Velvet Blaire or whether Velvet really had asked her from out of the blue didn’t really matter to him. He felt she should have made his feelings clear with Velvet, but now that the teen was part of the crew, he wasn’t going to throw a fit about it. She would just have to pull her weight.

     
If she could do that, then so much the better. He would even apologize for underestimating her, but if he had been right she would have to work a long time to redeem herself in his eyes, just like any other crewmember who had failed.

     
The tension that built up to the launch of the rocket had been high, but it was a walk in the park in comparison to what was building up prior to the first active mission of the
Hendrick Hudson
. Park had already been up on low orbit training missions, but this time it felt even more exciting than those mere test flights. They were not just circling the Earth, they were actually going somewhere. That made a big difference.

     
Another difference was that the Mer spectators weren’t milling around Van Winkle Town this time. They had never seen an ancient multistage rocket fueled by LOX and liquid hydrogen lift off before, but ships like the
Hudson
were old hat to the Mer and while the mission was important and potentially of
 
immense value to the world, there would be nothing of interest to see on the ground. Park had been approached to mount cameras on the ship so the world could watch the repairs as they took place, but he pointed out that the satellite they would be working on was out of commission and the other two would be out of range for the cameras. However, he did intend to record the operation and, if successful, they could relay that recording once the satellite was working again.