“Well!” she exclaimed, when she had disentangled herself. “After fifteen years!”
“You haven’t changed in the least.”
“Liar. I hope I have. At twenty-one I was an irresponsible brat.”
“At twenty-one you should be. It’s the last chance you’ll have.”
This scintillating conversation then ground to a halt, while they looked at each other and everyone in the Grand Saloon looked at them. I’m quite sure, Duncan told himself wryly, that they think we’re old lovers; would that it were true...
“Duncan, darhling—sorry—I always start talking early twentieth century when I’m in here: Mr. D. Makenzie, please excuse me for a few minutes while I speak to my other guests—then we’ll tour the ship together.”
He watched her dart purposefully from one group to another, the very embodiment of the efficient administrator, confirming that everything was going as planned. Was she playing another of her roles, or was this the real Calindy, if such a creature existed?
She came back to him five minutes later, with all her associates trotting dutifully behind.
“Duncan—I don’t think you’ve met Commander Innes—he knows more about this ship than the people who built her. He’ll be showing us around.”
As they shook hands, Duncan said: “I enjoyed your presentation very much. It’s always stimulating to meet a real enthusiast.”
His words were not idle flattery. While he had been listening to that talk, Duncan had recognized something that he had not met before on Earth.
Commander Innes was slightly larger than life, and seemed to be inclined at a small angle to his fellow Terrans. A world which had put a premium on tolerance and security and safe, well-organized excitements like those provided by Enigma had no place for zealots. Though enthusiasm was not actually illegal, it was in somewhat bad taste; one should not take one’s hobbies and recreations too seriously. Commander Innes, Duncan suspected, lived and dreamed Titanic. In an earlier age, he might have been a missionary, spreading the doctrines of Mohammed or Jesus with fire and sword. Today he was a harmless and indeed refreshing anomaly, and perhaps just a trifle mad.
For the next hour, they explored the bowels of the ship—and Duncan was thankful for his protective clothing. There was still mud and oil sloshing around on G deck, and several times he banged his head against unexpected ladders and ventilating ducts. But the effort and discomfort were well worth it, for only in this manner could he really appreciate all the skill and genius that had gone into this floating city. Most moving of all was to touch the inward-curling petals of steel far below the starboard bow, and to imagine the icy waters that had poured through them on that tragic night.
The boilers were shapeless, crumpled masses, but the engines themselves were in surprisingly good condition. Duncan looked with awe at the giant connecting rods and crankshafts, the huge reduction gears. (But why on earth did the designers use piston engines and turbines?) Then his admiration was abruptly tempered when Commander Innes gave his some statistics: this mountain of metal developed a ludicrous forty thousand kilowatts! He remembered the figure that Chief Engineer Mackenzie had given for Sirius’ main drive; a trillion kilowatts. Mankind had indeed gone a long way, in every sense of the phrase, during the last three centuries.
He was exhausted when he had climbed back up the alphabet from G to A deck (one day, Commander Innes promised, the elevators would be running again) and was more than thankful when they settled down for lunch in the First Class Smoking Room.
Then he looked at the Menu, and blinked:
R.M.S. “TITANIC”
April 14, 1912
LUNCHEON
Consommé Fermier Cockie Leekie
Fillets of Brill
Egg À l’Argenteuil
Chicken À la Maryland
Corned Beef, Vegetables, Dumplings
FROM THE GRILL
Grilled Mutton Chops
Mashed, Fried and Baked Jacket Potatoes
Custard Pudding
Apple Meringue Pastry
BUFFET
Salmon Mayonnaise Potted Shrimps
Norwegian Anchovies Soused Herrings
Plain & Smoked Sardines
Roast Beef
Round of Spiced Beef
Veal & Ham Pie
Virginia & Cumberland Ham
Bologna Sausage Brawn
Galatine of Chicken
Corned Ox Tongue
Lettuce Beetroot Tomatoes
CHEESE
Cheshire, Stilton, Gorgonzola, Edam
Camembert, Roquefort, St. Ivel,
Cheddar
Iced draught Munich Lager Beer –3d. & 6d.a Tankard
“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” said Calindy. “We’ve done our best, within the limits of the synthesizers, but we don’t even know what half of these items were. The secret of Cockie Leekie went down with the ship, and perhaps it’s just as well. But we do have a substitute for the Munich Beer.”
Duncan would never have given this ordinary, unlabeled bottle a second thought had he not noticed the extreme care with which it was carried. He looked questioningly at his hostess.
“Vintage ’05, according to the wine steward’s records—1905, that is. Tell me what you think of it.”
With one bottle to forty guests, there was just enough to get a good taste. It was port, and to Duncan seemed just like any other port; but he was too polite to say so. He made vague mumblings of appreciation, saw that Calindy was laughing at him, and added, “I’m afraid we don’t have much chance of studying wines on Titan.”
“Titan,” said Commander Innes thoughtfully. “How very appropriate.”
“But hardly a coincidence. You can thank Cal—Miss Ellerman.”
“You’ve no seas on Titan, have you?”
“Only small temporary ones. Of liquid ammonia.”
“I couldn’t live on a world like that. I can’t bear to be away from the sea more than a few weeks. You must go to the Caribbean and vie on one of our reefs. If you’ve never seen a coral reef, you can’t imagine it.”
Duncan had no intention of following the Commander’s advice. He could understand the fascination with the sea, but it terrified him. Nothing, he was sure, would ever induce him to enter that alien universe of strange beasts, full of known dangers that were bad enough, and unknown ones that must be even worse. (As if one could possibly imagine anything worse than the man-eating shark or the giant squid...) People like Commander Innes must indeed be mad. They made life interesting, but there was no need to follow their example.
And at the moment, Duncan was too busy trying to follow Calindy—without much success. He could appreciate the fact that, having some fifty people to deal with, she could give him only two percent of her time; but when he tried to pin her down to a meeting under less hectic circumstances, she was curiously evasive. It was not that she was unfriendly, for she seemed genuinely pleased to see him. But something was worrying her—she was holding him at arm’s length. It was almost as if she had been warned that he was bringing deadly Titanian germs to Earth. All that he could extract from her before they parted was a vague promise that she would contact him “just as soon as the season is over”—whatever that might mean.
Enigma Associates had not disappointed him, but their vice-president had left him puzzled and saddened. Duncan worried at the problem throughout the thirty-minute ride in the vacuum subway back to Washington. “Thank God the van Hyatts were staying in New York—he would not appreciate their company in his present mood.)