Chapter 2

Ace was getting a couple of drinks from the fridge. Her old friend Marina was sitting on the couch.

"Will you have a chance to get away this year?"

"Maybe. Jon and I have been talking about going back to Angel Falls…"

"Oh, Venezuela's beautiful…"

Ace was about to sit down when the doorbell rang. She answered the door. A delivery man was carrying a large box.

"Oh great! I'll take that."

She took the box and the delivery man left. Ace put the box on the table and Marina came over. Ace opened the box. "I left it in storage a long time ago. After Dad died." She took out an old book. "Odds and ends mostly…"

Marina picked up the book and read the title with puzzlement. ""How to Advance Your Career through Marriage"?"

Ace smiled at the memory. "It's a joke. Dad sent me that while I was working at McDonalds."

They shared a small laugh. Ace continued to dig through the box, taking out various small momentos and items. She took out a video cassette, read the label, reacted… and sat down.

"What is it?"

"It's for me… from Dad. I'd forgotten about it… maybe I was trying to forget about it."

"Why?"

"Dad recorded a video message to me when I was a child… it was a gift for when I grew up. Dad was going to make more of them… He never got the chance."

"Are you afraid of what it might say?"

"No… I just don't know if it will do more harm than good. I've managed to finally deal with my father's death, but…"

Marina's attitude was gentle, soothing… she'd slipped easily from her role as friend into that of Psychologist, which was her profession. "You have a lot of questions about your father. Things that no one can answer for you. Perhaps seeing this will help you to understand the kind of man that Harry McShane really was."

Ace thought this over…

Nita stood uncomfortably as her father told a story to an enthralled Keven…

"…So we walk into the school… and we don't know what to expect. Is Nita hurt? Is she in some kind of trouble? The door opens and we see out little seven-year-old… sitting in a chair… and glaring across the room at five year-seven girls. All of them with bloody noses."

Keven laughed.

"The principal looked up and said, "Tell me she's an only child."

"The older girls were… disrespectful."

"And that was only the beginning… when she was ten…"

"We've taken enough of Keven's time…"

"No… no… no, I have nothing else on my schedule…"

"I just wanted to tell him the story about…"

"Enough stories, John…"

"Okay, okay. Enough stories… Well, then how about telling me about your work… I used to be a Telecom linesman myself."

"I'd be delighted…"

"You two go ahead…" Marjorie turned to Nita. "Your father will be here for hours, why don't you show Leigh the garden?"

"Keven, call us when Dad… when you're ready to leave."

"I'm sure he can find his way outside." John turned to Keven. "I worked on most of the phone lines on the south side of town…"

Nita and Leigh went outside. John watched them go.

"I've been working on a new kind of telecommunication device that will replace the need for telephone lines."

"Amazing. Keven, if you have a couple of minutes there's something else I'd like to ask you."

"Sure, Chief."

"It's about… my daughter."

The interior of the Braxiatel home reflected the same preference for an earlier time and way of life as did the exterior. A single television was in evidence, along with one or two other modern conveniences, but they accented the fact that the house was a warm French country home from the early 19th century and just happened to exist in the 20th century. The small dining area was adjacent to the living room and there were doors to other rooms. The dinner table was set for a meal of onion soup, baguette, and wine. The Doctor, Irving, Samantha, and David were just sitting down. The tone was deceptively cordial.

"And your friend Robert wants you to contact him as soon as you're settled…"

The Doctor smiled at the name and the memories it brought… "Is he still trying to raise the Titanic?"

"Oh yes, he's very excited about it… he's been made a team leader now… as his wife is constantly reminding anyone who'll listen…"

"I don't see why they need to raise a sunken ship."

"Oh, it's really quite exciting actually… when you understand the potential of exploring the old ship…"

"Well, I guess I just don't understand that potential."

And Samantha jumped in to move beyond the early tension… "The Mayor wants to have a parade…"

"A parade…?"

"And give you the keys to the city…"

"No… no…"

"A little arm-twisting… a little coaxing, that's what he wants, Samantha."

"No. I don't," the Doctor replied a little sharply. "I just want… to rest and spend some time with my family."

"I've already warned the Mayor not to make any plans until we talked."

"Thank-you."

Iriving poured the wine.

"Is this the eight-six?" the Doctor asked, sampling the wine.

"Eighty-seven. Drinking all that artificial – what do you call it? Synthehol? – It's spoiled you," said Irving, trying to joke. "You used to have a very discriminating palate."

But the remark slightly nettled the Doctor nevertheless. He tried not to sound defensive, but it still came out that way. "Not at all. I believe synthehol heightens one's appreciation for the genuine article."

They ate.

"Delicious, Samantha."

"Leave it to Irving to find the best chef in France and marry her…"

"Cooking is becoming a lost art… thanks to technology…"

"Irving and I have had more than a few discussions about getting a microwave in the house…"

"I can remember the same kind of "discussions" between mother and father about replicators…"

"He understood the threat of losing what is precious to us."

"I don't see that you have to lose anything… just by adding a convenience…"

"You wouldn't. I say life has become too convenient."

"And this sounds like a very old argument."

"It is."

"Fortunately, Doctor, being the "greatest chef" in France, I enjoy traditional cooking… so I don't mind losing a microwave argument… especially since I used it to get a solar hot water system."

"I was astonished to see it here…"

"I don't use it. Never will."

David had been bursting to say something… and in a routine non-sequitur for a child- "I wrote a report on spaceships for school."

Irving was aware of this… and wasn't at all happy about it…

"And he won a ribbon for it, isn't that right, David…"

"The teacher said it was one of the best he'd ever heard."

"Good for you, uncle. You know what? I wrote a report about time/space capsules when I was about your age…"

"Did you win a ribbon too?"

"I don't recall…"

Now with the first true hostility in his eyes- "Your modesty is unconvincing, Doctor. Of course you won the ribbon. You always did…"

The Doctor and Irving locked eyes as the boy continued… "Do you still have it?" The Doctor looked at him. "Your report."

"No, I don't think so."

"I still have mine."

"Why don't you go get it, David… and read it to your uncle?"

David was out of his chair in a flash and left the room. Irving looked hard at the Doctor and in a soft, dark voice – "It is hard enough to protect him from all that's out there without your encouragement."

"Irving…"

"I am not encouraging anything… but if you weren't so narrow-minded, if you allowed him to see the real world…"

"Raise your own sons as you would wish," Irving said coldly.

David returned, running with a paper in his hand and getting into his chair as the two brothers looked coldly at each other across the table…

David began reading: "Spaceships… by David Braxiatel. There are many kinds of spaceships that fly through space… but the biggest of them all is the TARDIS…"