"Now there's an odd thing. I've been so busy that I haven't had time to enter anything in your medical folder. The notes are in my safe."
"So? How about the lab technician?"
"He's been so overworked that I ran those tests myself."
"Well, well. Do you think that there is a possibility that those notes might be lost? Burned, maybe?"
"We never burn anything in the ship; it annoys the air-conditioning engineer. Instead we shred and recycle. Fear not, little girl; your shameful secret is safe with me."
"Jerry, you're my pal. Dear, if it hadn't been for my maid, I think I could have blamed this baby on you. My first night in the shipÄ remember?"
"I'm not likely to forget. I had an attack of acute frustration."
"Having a maid along is not my idea; my family planted her on me, and she sticks to me like a leech. One would think my family does not trust me merely because they know they can'tÄas you know all too well. Can you think of a way to avoid her chaperonage? I'm feeling very pliable. With you. A man I can trust with secrets."
"Um. I must give it some thought. My stateroom is no good; you have to pass two dozen other officers' rooms and go through the wardroom to reach it. Watch it; here comes Jimmy."
Yes, of course I was trying to bribe him into silence. But besides that I was grateful and felt that I owed him something. If congress with my unvirgin carcass was what he wanted (and it was), I was willingÄand willing on my own account, too; I had been quite underprivileged lately and Jerry is an attractive man. I was not embar
rassed over being pregnant (although the idea was decidedly novel to me) but I did want to keep my condition secret (if possibleÄif there were not already a platoon of people in the ship who knew of it!)Ä keep it secret, if it was, while I sorted out what to do.
The extent of my predicament may not be clear; maybe I had better draw a diagram. If I went on to The Realm, I expected to be killed in a surgical operating room, all quiet and legal and proper. If you don't believe that such things can happen, we aren't living in the same world and there is no point in your reading any more of this memoir. Throughout history the conventional way of dealing with an awkward witness has been to arrange for him to stop breathing.
This might not happen to me. But all the signs suggested that it wouldÄif I went to The Realm.
Just stay aboard? I thought of that... but Pete-Mac's words echoed in my ears: "When we arrive, an officer of the palace guard comes aboard and then you're his problem." Apparently they weren't even going to wait for me to go groundside and pretend to fall ill.
Ergo, I must leave the ship before we reached The RealmÄi.e., Botany Bay, no other choice.
Simple. Just walk off the ship.
Oh, sure! Walk down the gangway and wave good-bye from the ground.
This is not an ocean ship. The closest the Forward ever gets to a planet is its stationary orbitÄfor Botany Bay that is about thirty-five thousand kilometers. That's a long way to go in some very thin vacuum. The only possible way I could get down to the surface of Botany Bay would be in one of the ship's landing boats, just as I had at Outpost.
Friday, they are not going to let you walk aboard that landing boat. At Outpost you bulled your way aboard. That has alerted them; you won't manage it a second time. What will happen? Mr. Woo or somebody will be at the airlock with a listÄand again your name is not on it. But this time he has an armed master-at-arms with him. What do you do?
Why, I disarm him, bang their heads together, step over their unconscious bodies, and take a seat. You can do it, Friday; you've
been trained for it and genetically designed for just that sort of rough stuff.
Then what happens? The landing boat does not leave on time. It waits in its cradle while a squad of eight comes in and by brute force and a tranquilizer dart takes you out of the boat and locks you into cabin BBÄwhere you stay until that officer of the palace guard takes custody of your carcass.
This is not a problem rough stuff can solve.
That leaves sweet talk, sex appeal, and bribery.
Wait! What about honesty?
Huh?
Certainly. Go straight to the Captain. Tell him what Mr. Sikmaa promised you, tell him how you were swindled, get Jerry to show him the pregnancy report, tell him that you are frightened and have decided to wait on Botany Bay until some ship calls that is headed back to Earth, not to The Realm. He's a sweet, fatherly old dear; you've seen pictures of his daughtersÄhe'll take care of you!
What would Boss's opinion be of that?
He would note that you sit on the Captain's rightÄwhy?
You were given one of the ship's most posh cabins at the last minuteÄwhy?
Space was found for seven others, people who spend all their time watching youÄdo you think the Captain does not know this?
Somebody took your name off the ground-trip list for OutpostÄ who?
Who owns HyperSpace Lines? Thirty percent is owned by Interworld, which in turn is owned or controlled by various segments of the Shipstone group. And you noticed that 11 percent was owned by three banks on The RealmÄyou noticed this because other chunks of Shipstone companies were owned from The Realm.
So don't expect too much from sweet old Captain van Kooten. You can hear him now: "Oh, I don't zink so. Mr. Sikmaa is a goot friend of mine; I haf known him for years. Yes, I did promise him zat no chances would be taken wiz your safety; zat's vy I can't let you go down to vild, uncivilized planets. But yen ye go back, I show you real, goot time on Halcyon, I promise. Now you yust be a goot girl and not make me any more troublesÄhenh?"
He might even believe it.
He almost certainly knows that you are not "Miss Rich Bitch" and probably has been told that you contracted as a host mother (probably not told that it was for the Royal FamilyÄalthough he may guess it) and he would simply think that you are trying to welch on a legal and equitable contract. Friday, you have not one word in writing that would even tend to indicate that you were swindled.
Don't expect help from the Captain. Friday, you're on your own.
It was only three days before our scheduled arrival at Botany Bay that any change took place. I did a lot of pondering but most of it was maunderingÄfutile and time-wasting imaginings about what I would do if I could not manage to jump ship in Botany Bay. Like this: "You heard me, Captain! I'm locking myself in my cabin until we leave The Realm. If you have the door broken down so that you can turn me over to that palace guard officer, I can't stop youÄbut a dead body is all you'll find!"
(Ridiculous. Sleepy gas through the air pipes is all it would take to outflank me.)
OrÄ "Captain, have you ever seen a knitting-needle abortion? You are invited to come watch; I understand that one can be quite bloody."
(Even more ridiculous. I can talk about abortion; I can't do it. Even though this wart inside me is no kin to me, it is nevertheless my innocent guest.)
I tried not to waste time on such useless thoughts but to concentrate my mind on subversion while continuing to behave normally. When the purser's office announced that it was time to sign up for excursions on Botany Bay, I was one of the first to show up, going over all the possibilities, asking questions, taking brochures to my cabin, and signing up for and paying cash for all the best and most expensive trips.
That night at dinner I chattered to the Captain about the trips I had picked, asked his opinions on each, and complained again about my name having been left off the list at Outpost and asked him to check on it for me this timeÄas if the Captain of a giant liner had nothing better to do than to run errands for Miss Rich Bitch. So far as I could see, he did not flinch under any of thisÄhe certainly did not tell me that I could not go groundside. But he may
be as steeped in sin as I am; I learned to lie with a straight face long before I left the crŠche.