Parker's Folly (34 page)

“Jack, I have to tell you that someone on board is spying on you, the ship and the crew. Someone from the ISS.” She looked away, her eyes focused at some unseen distance beyond the blank porthole in the curving cabin wall.

Ah, so that's it. Thank goodness it's not something important.
“Yes, go on,” he prompted.

Ludmilla looked back and met his gaze, “It is Colonel Kondratov. He has been attempting to gather intelligence about the ship's technology. He see's this as his patriotic duty. He may be trying to suborn some of the crew as well.”

“Is that what you wanted to tell me? Is that your purpose for being here tonight?”
Stop asking questions you don't want answers to,
he scolded himself.

“Yes, that is what I wanted to tell you, and no, it is not the reason I came here tonight. But I could not be with you without first warning you about Ivan.”

An interesting turn of a phrase,
Jack thought,
of course English is not her native tongue. Does that put her on my side? Betraying her countryman, perhaps her country to warn me? I need to put her concerns to rest before mistrust derails our friendship for a second time.

“Ludmilla, I've known about Ivan's snooping from the beginning. All of the ship's systems, including the online technical documentation and library, are monitored by the computer. The computer also monitors all public and sensitive technical areas. The only information Ivan has is information I don't mind him having.”

A wave of relief passed over Ludmilla, her shoulders relaxed and her anxious body language eased. “I know that Folly monitors things for you, but I had to be sure that you knew what Ivan was up to—and I wanted you to know that I was not involved in his paranoid scheming.”

What a relief! I thought we were about to have a replay of our first private encounter—without even getting to the meal.
“Well thank you for letting me know, I appreciate your forthrightness and honesty,” He smiled as he handed her a Champagne flute. “And I know about Tommy Wendover as well. There is little that happens on board that escapes my attention.”

Tension left her like a storm passing. “I feel much better with this out in the open. Now that the air has been cleared what should we drink to?”

“How about, to second chances?”

“Yes, to second chances, and new beginnings.”

They both raised their glasses in salute and sipped the pale sparkling wine. Ludmilla reached up and rubbed the tip of her nose. “This Champagne is excellent, but it always makes my nose tickle,” she said. This elicited a genuine smile from Jack.

“I do not think I have ever seen you smile before, Jack.”
Oh yes, he is quite handsome when he smiles.

“I was thinking of a line from an old song,
‘
Let's sip Champagne 'til we break into smiles.
’” Jack motioned toward the chairs.

Ludmilla took that as an invitation to sit down, which she did with feline like grace. “I do not believe I've heard this song, who is it by?”

Jack followed Ludmilla's lead and also sat. The two chairs were angled toward each other, with a small end table in reach of both.

“A musician named Jimmy Buffett. He has quite a following in nautical circles and was a favorite in my youth. He has written a lot of songs about sailors and sailing.” Looking up at the ceiling while recalling another set of lyrics, he recited:

Mother, mother Ocean, I have heard you call
Wanted to sail upon your waters since I was three feet tall

“So have you always dreamed of being a captain—to spend your life at sea? This is something I have never considered myself.”

“Since I was a young boy. You have never been called by the lure of the sea, heard the song of foreign shores?”

“Russia does not have a strong naval tradition like the US or the British. Tzar
Nicholas II
constructed a modern Navy at the beginning of the 20
th
century to show that Russia was not the backward child of Europe most other nations thought it was at the time. By 1904, the Imperial Russian Navy was a first rate navy. Then, in 1905, after a surprise Japanese attack destroyed most of his Pacific Squadron,
Nicholas sent his main fleet all the way from the Baltic, around
Africa to Asia. It arrived just in time for the Japanese to sink it in a single battle. By the end of 1905, Russia was again reduced to a
third rate naval power. Little wonder that Russian romantics, looking for military adventure, tend more toward knightly single combat in tanks or airplanes.”

“You have obviously studied military history,” Jack said with a warm smile. Military history was one of his passions and he could not help showing off a little. “The Russian Baltic Fleet, renamed the Second Pacific Squadron sailed 18,000 nautical miles  to relieve Port Arthur, only to find that it had fallen while they were en route. They engaged the Japanese fleet
in the Tsushima Straits on 27
th
and 28
th
of May, 1905. The Japanese managed to cross the Russian ‘T’ and as a result, the Russian fleet was virtually annihilated. It lost eight
battleships, numerous smaller vessels, and more than 5,000 men, while the Japanese lost three torpedo boats and just 116 men. Only three Russian vessels escaped to Vladivostok. In all, one of the most single sided battles in the history of Naval warfare.”

“I think you too know something of military history. Some Russian historians credit that defeat with helping to trigger the Bolshevik revolution. As if the miserable lives of the peasants was not reason enough for an uprising,” Ludmilla scoffed. “More believably, others cite the rise of Japanese militarism as an outcome.”

“It's good to have someone knowledgeable to discuss such things with,” Jack said, hoping his complement was not too transparent. Being captain, he was not practiced at the art of flattery.

“I am a Russian officer, after all,” Ludmilla pronounced with mock officiousness. “It is good to study the mistakes of the past. It does not always allow one to avoid the same mistakes in the future, but at least you know when you invent a new way to experience disaster.”

Jack chuckled and refilled their glasses. “You are right about not learning our lessons. The initial Japanese attack at Port Arthur started three hours before the formal declaration of war was sent to St. Petersburg. Thirty five years later America would suffer a similar Japanese surprise attack—at Pearl Harbor.”

“Is that what you fear from the aliens? A surprise attack?”

“I'm afraid that the records from the artifact do not paint a very rosy picture of the galaxy. Evidently there was a lot of organized hostility going on, even four million years ago. I see no good reason to assume things have changed, given the events at crater Bruno.”

“And what of all those intellectuals who confidently state that no truly advanced race could make it into space without giving up war and aggression?”

“Fuzzy headed liberal illogic at its finest. Philosophizing about a utopian future and wishing it were so is one thing. Believing your fantasies are reality and blindly ignoring the ugly truth is quite another. Self delusion is not a positive survival trait, for individuals or for species. And I am afraid that intercepting the ship we are chasing will only delay the inevitable. Mankind will have to face the hostile Universe sooner or later.”

“So depressing to think of the future. Let's not talk about this anymore tonight,” Ludmilla suggested, peering over the rim of her glass at Jack. “There will be sufficient time to face ugly reality tomorrow.”

Jack placed his glass on the table between them, resting his hand next to it. “I am definitely in agreement on that point. I want us to forget our problems for the evening.”

“Agreed,” Ludmilla smiled and set her glass down.

“So, would you like to order dinner?”

“Actually, I would like to order breakfast,” she said, covering his hand with hers. “In the morning.”

* * * * *

Jack awoke to find himself wrapped around the sleeping Ludmilla, who's naked body was curled up in the fetal position.
My goodness we're spooning!
he thought.
But this feels right, like we've been this way since the beginning of time.
He softly kissed the nape of her neck and carefully slid from beneath the covers.

Standing naked at the computer display on his desk, Jack quickly checked the watch schedule.
I'm setting a bad example for the crew by missing the start of morning watch, not that I'd change
what I've done.
Ah, it looked like the ever efficient Gretchen had covered for him. Yes, there was an annotation marked for his eyes only. It said, “Hope you caught up on your sleep ;-) you've got forenoon and afternoon watches.”

Jack smiled.
We didn't really catch up on rest last night, but there are some things people need more than sleep.
He was feeling the painful complaint of a score of muscles he had forgotten he had. Ludmilla had been a tigress last night, in fact..., he turned his back to the floor length mirror on the wall and peered over his shoulder, ...yes, there were long scratches down his back.

On the bed, Ludmilla awoke with a start. “Jack!” she cried, looking around in panic.

He rushed to her. “I'm here, Ludmilla. I'm right here.”

She flew from the bed and wrapped her arms around him, pulling their bodies tightly together. “When I awoke and you were not there, for a moment I thought last night was all just a dream,” she said in a husky voice.

“Oh, it was a dream, but a very real one,” he replied, holding her against him, her naked flesh searing him where their bodies touched. “I've just found you, my lady, I'll not be leaving you.”

Her breath was hot against his neck. “Call me Luda, but only when we are alone, like this.” No one had called her Luda since she was a girl, not even Yuri.

“I hope I will get the opportunity often, Luda,” he murmured. She looked up, turning her face to his. Their lips met, he lowered her to the bed and once more, they lost themselves in each other.

Gretchen observed the Captain as he entered the bridge. He had a definite spring in his step that had not been present yesterday.

“Good morning,” he said with a smile, “I am ready to relieve you, Lieutenant.”

“I am ready to be relieved, Sir. And good morning to you, it looks like your batteries have been recharged.”

“Just so, Number One,” he said with a dazzling smile.

He's on cloud nine if he's using that 'number one' crap,
Gretchen thought.
Well good for him, he was in desperate need of some R&R. Not that she couldn't use some herself, but that was another story.
“All departments report systems normal. There were no incidents to report overnight. Smooth sailing, Sir.”

“Very good. Lieutenant, I relieve you.”

“I am relieved, Captain.” Gretchen nodded and smiled, then turned and headed aft to find some breakfast. At the helm Bobby winked at Billy Ray, who was there to relieve him. Billy Ray offered a faint, knowing smile and muttered, “At least someone on the Bridge had a good night.”

Jack occupied the captain's chair and said loudly, “This is the Captain, I have the Deck and the Conn.”

Susan was standing in the sickbay doorway, wondering what was so all fired important that she had to roust herself from bed and appear in person. For two days she had managed to avoid Billy Ray, she was just too mortified by her own behavior to face him. She had also managed to give Gretchen, JT and Ludmilla the slip. She snuck out to the snack bar at odd hours for food and otherwise pretty much stayed in bed, though that was beginning to grow old. She had never been so miserable in her life.

“Ah, I see my patient has decided to show up,” Ludmilla remarked as she stepped from a curtained off patient's room.

Lt. Merryweather must be in there, Susan thought. He was about the only patient left, the other Marines having all returned to duty. Why is she calling me her patient?

“Step into the examination room and strip to your undergarments,” Ludmilla commanded.

“But why?” Susan began to ask, but Ludmilla cut her off.

“Just do as you are told and this will all go more easily.”

Puzzled, Susan moved to comply with the Doctor's orders.

* * * * *

Ludmilla kept Susan waiting for around 15 minutes. Stripped down to her bra and panties, Susan was getting quite chilled, goosebumps breaking out on her arms and chest.
Why are doctor's offices always so cold? And why do they always keep you waiting?

Ludmilla could have told her that she was being kept waiting, cold and almost naked, to put her at a psychological disadvantage for what was coming next. When Luda and Jack finally managed to say their goodbyes that morning, he had asked her to look in on Susan. The normally gregarious reporter had absented herself from everyday shipboard life for the past two days, ever since the morning she had ejected Billy Ray from her cabin.

The curtain parted and Ludmilla entered. In her white jumpsuit, stethoscope around her neck, she looked every inch a doctor, albeit a very shapely one. “All right, let us see what the problem is here.”

“Ludmilla, I don't have any problem,” Susan pleaded earnestly.

“Are you a Doctor? No! So do not try to tell me what my diagnosis will be.” Breaking the sterile wrapping on a tongue depressor she ordered, “stick out your tongue. Say ah.”

For the next ten minutes Ludmilla proceeded to give Susan a thorough examination. She poked and prodded, listened to various locations with her suitably cold stethoscope, took her temperature, blood pressure, palpated her arms and abdomen, peered into her eyes and ears with a bright light, and tested her reflexes with a tiny rubber hammer—all the things that doctors do to people in examination rooms. She even drew several vials of blood.