Larssen stood outside the door. She pressed the chime, and
it began to open. There was nothing, after all, particularly
unusual about this door, or about the fact that it opened in
response to her request, but for a moment she was seized
by a sense of oppressive dread so strong her breath caught in
her throat and her hands began to sweat.
Then the door was open, and she was standing foolishly in
the corridor as if letting it hiss shut again was a sensible
thing to do. She took hold of herself, and stepped in.
Crew quarters, petty officers. Not as big as her junior
officer's room, but a private room unlike the shared
accommodation of ensigns and yeomen. A bed, a desk -
no belongings.
Madison sat on the bed, dressed in a Starfleet coverall
someone must have got him to replace his own torn and
filthy clothes. Larssen stopped just inside the door, and he
looked at her, unsmiling.
"What do you want, lady?" he asked.
"I brought - here." The amulet was in her pocket and she
had to fumble for a moment to get it out. Now she was here,
this didn't seem like such a good idea. She could have had it
sent down, with a note, or something. Still, here she was. She
held it out, chain dangling from her fingers, and when he
didn't move she set it on the desk within his reach. "Thank
you." And then, awkwardly, hands going back to her
pockets, "I don't know what we would have done without your
help."
"Farted around until the deadline, I expect." Madison said.
He picked up the amulet, turned it over, ran the new chain
she had hung it on through his fingers. It was duranium,
with a coded clasp that he could set to any combination he
wanted. Larssen had been very specific with Mr Singh about what
she wanted.
'It won't break." she said.
He laughed softly. "Doncha think you should leave your
options open?"
"No." Larssen said.
He turned the icon over, and over again, and Larssen
knew he had to notice the way the stains were gone,
the new burnished shine of the wood. "I - I looked it
up." she said. "I did it all the way the computer
said was the right way."
"Hard to get the right wax." Madison said. "I've been using
oil."
Larssen reached into her pocket again, drew out a small
jar. "I - we - synthesised it. Here."
And again, when he did not move to take it from her hand,
she set it on the table.
"I guess what's impossible for a merchant spacer is a
matter of course for Starfleet." Madison drawled.
Matter of course if you have a Spock, Larssen thought.
Commander Spock had come, unexpectedly, into the lab
when she was hunched in concentration over the reader, and had
simply raised an eyebrow at her hurried apologies for using the
equipment for a personal matter. Raised an eyebrow, made
some remark about courtesy, and given her a suggestion that had
provided a shortcut across her research worth hours or
even days. After that, it had been a simple matter to ascertain
that there was no sacrilege in using the disbrader on the
amulet to draw out the oil stains, to dial up the right
formula for the wax, and then it was only the slow,
painstaking work in her own cabin, by the light of the
requisite nine candles and under the single Eye that
consecrated a place to the Triple God. It didn't matter that
she was an unbeliever - the Triple God, apparently, as far
as she could read, was relaxed about that. Even an
unbeliever could go through the forms and rituals without
insulting It.
Larssen didn't say any of that. "I did it right." she said
again.
"It wouldn't matter," Madison said, looking at her
suddenly, "if you hadn't. It's not like that. That stuff has its place. But it wouldn't matter. I wouldn't have well, I wouldn't have fucking given it to you, would I, if it
would have mattered."
"Why did you?" Larssen asked, because it seemed possible
he might answer her. "It was around my neck - Christine
said I had the mask on - and you didn't."
Madison smiled. A hostile, angry smile. "We all have our
fucking reasons, lady. There are things - that are worth
something. And things that aren't worth quite so much.
And besides," he said, putting the icon down on the desk with a
click, "besides, Mitch was a spit and polish bastard, and I
thought he'd do alright with you. And you - with him."
"But I'm not-" Larssen said, and then stopped. "I don't
believe. I'm not of your faith."
"Doesn't matter, lady. It isn't like that. It's about
remembering. There's no point to the spirits hanging
around when no-one remembers them, is there? It's not some kind
of fucking eternal life, who the fuck wants that, anyway? It's
for the living, as well as the dead. And I thought - Mitch
never got very far in the Fleet before that stupid cunt got
him shot, and I thought maybe he deserved a chance to see
it. And he wasn't a bad bastard, by any account. Smart. And
I reckon you could use a clever man around to keep you in
check."
"Oh, thank you very much." Larssen said mildly. "Well,
he saw some Starfleet today. He got to witness the captain
tearing me a new one."
"Oh, yeah? The famous Captain Kirk, eh? Did it hurt?"
"It surely did." Larssen said.
"Did he -" Madison leaned forward, and lowered his voice
confidentially, "did he - use fricatives?"
"He doesn't need to." Larssen said, smiling.
"Everybody needs fricatives, lady." Madison said. "Do
you know what's happening to my fucking ship? Or on this
one, for that matter?"
"There's a departmental head meeting now," Larssen said,
"and I've got a whole series of sector and quadrant readings to
cross-reference. That's all I know. The Lady Grace - she
was pretty banged up."
"She was fit for fucking scrap when you got done with
her." Madison said. "Are you always that hard on your ships?"
"I don't know," Larssen admitted, "that was my first
command."
He stared in disbelief. "Jesus, lady, I wish I'd known
*that*! I would have just ripped your arms off the minute I
saw you and had done with the whole fucking mess."
"I know you would." Larssen said. "Which is why I didn't
tell you. You didn't tell me - or those civilians - that your
blaster didn't have any charge."
Madison gave her an evil grin. "What I didn't tell you," he
said, "is that the readout panel is busted. That fucking
blaster could have taken off half your fucking head. Feel
better now?"
The truce was over, Larssen recognised. "I have to go." she said.
"Oh, yeah, Starfleet, busy busy busy. Civilians to
threaten, ships to steal, balls to bust." Madison got
to his feet, managed to loom over her despite the fact
he was barely taller than she was. "Lives to risk,
souls to fucking shatter, people to fucking use up and
throw away, am I fucking right?"
"Bye, Madison." Larssen said calmly, backing towards the
door. "I'm sure the captain will let you know what's
happening with your ship."
"Yeah, the fucking precious captain. The only good thing I
know about him is that he fucking told you off."
The door hissed shut on any further comment he might
have made, and he turned abruptly, staring down at the table, at
the little figurine and the jar of precious wax. Wax he
hadn't been able to get for seven years, wax that would
keep the icon shining and clean and uncracked. Wax that
Larssen had produced out of nowhere as if it was no trouble, no
trouble at fucking all.
Angrily, he stuffed the icon in his pocket, and then took it
out and fastened the chain around his neck. He lay down
on the bed with his arms behind his head and stared at the
clean ceiling until his eyes burned.
Kirk found him like that when the departmental heads
meeting finished. The captain stood in the door, waiting
for Madison to move or acknowledge him, and when the
engineer just looked at the ceiling as if it held the secrets to
life's mysteries he cleared his throat.
"Chief Madison." he said. "May I come in?"
"Suit your fucking self." Madison drawled. "It's your
fucking ship, isn't it?"
Not an auspicious beginning, but Kirk was prepared for
that. Lieutenant Larssen had glossed over a lot of
her dealings with this man in her report, but the
words 'initial resistance', 'Chief Madison then
agreed to assist us' and 'best efforts, despite
preliminary reluctance,' were not difficult for Kirk
to interpret - particularly now he saw Madison for the
first time.
"I thought you would want to be informed of the condition
of the Lady Grace." Kirk said.
Madison did turn his head to look at Kirk then, slowly,
slowly. He studied the captain as if seeing something
strange and exotic.
"You're Captain Kirk." Madison said at last, very softly. "I
wondered what you'd look like."
Silence stretched on. Just as Kirk was about to speak,
Madison suddenly sat up and swung his feet to the floor.
"Tell me what the fuck is happening to my ship? And
what's this shit about delays and Starbase 34? The Lady Grace is
a working hauler, mister, and she can't afford to fucking trail
around after you waiting for your fucking convenience to
start refitting after the damage you people did to her."
"Chief Madison, the Lady Grace was so severely damaged
our best assessment was that she was unsalvageable." Kirk
told him. "And given the urgency of our current mission, it
was judged best to cut her loose." The urgency of the current
mission - the further transmissions from Admiral Dewey,
the other ship disappearances and those haunting, inexplicable,
fragmentary final transmissions. The hair on the back of his neck
hadn't lain down since that first coded message and
Kirk could feel in his gut that things were going to get worse.
"What?" Madison said, eyes blazing. "What? What the
fuck did you say?"
"Starfleet will pay compensation-" Kirk started to say.
"*Fuck* your compensation! *Fuck* it! She isn't my
fucking ship, I don't fucking *own* her, you stupid bastard! You
think the owners are going to take that compensation and
buy a new ship? They'll fucking retire on it! I just worked my
fucking ring off for fucking Starfleet and you stand there,
you fucking stand there, and you say, oh, sorry, we fucked
your ship 'till it laid down and fucking died but we'll give
the owners some money? Fuck that! What am I supposed
to do? Fucking sit on space dock with a begging bowl?"
"I didn't realise you didn't have a stake-" Kirk said
"Man like me, I *look* like I have a fucking stake?"
"You don't need to worry, Chief Madison, really.
Everybody is aware of just what you've done these last few days. If
the Grace's owners decide not to reinvest and you find
yourself without a berth, I give you my word that Starfleet will
make sure-"
"I can find my own fucking job!" Madison said. 'I don't
need fucking Starfleet charity!"
"As you wish." Kirk said. "I am sorry that it turned out
like this. We are deeply grateful to you, we all are. If
there's anything-"
Madison shook his head, looking savagely at his hands,
shoulders hunched.
"I'm sorry." Kirk said again. As he was turning to leave,
Madison said, "Wait."
Kirk turned back. The chief engineer was still looking
down at his clenched fists.
"Kirk." Madison said, not as an address, Kirk was sure. As
if the engineer was reminding himself of who he was talking
to. "Captain, James T. The genius boy captain. You know
something, James? You, boy wonder, are one year younger than I
am. Isn't that strange? You're the boy fucking wonder and I'm the
used up old spacer, and there's a year between us.
Just a year."
~The Merchant Fleet is full of pain,~ Kirk thought, ~pain of
many kinds in many shapes. The pain that spacers
bring with them and the pain they acquire along the way.~ He
stood, and said nothing. Eventually Madison looked up at
him.
"I'm not fucking Starfleet, despite this monkey suit they
gave me. And I'm not about to lose my mind and enlist.
But I am an engineer, and I'm a fucking good one - by every
standard that counts, which is to say, I'm still alive. And
it looks like I'm not going anywhere in a hurry - and I have
enough years of weather instinct to know when an ion
storm is coming, Kirk, and I can feel the tension coming off you
like heat off a malfunctioning distributor. So I reckon if I
mean to stay a good engineer, I better fucking do something
about that. You tell your chief that I stand ready to lend a
hand."
"I will," Kirk said, although he could almost hear Scotty's
howl of outrage at the thought of letting a civilian spacer
touch 'ma bairns!' 'Thanks for the offer."
"Don't fucking mention it." said Madison.