Free Stepping Up by Robert Culp

shock. Check the specs out tonight.   And
since you’re back, I’ve got work to do.  See you later. Oh, by the way, has
anyone shown you the lounge? It’s on deck C, area three forward. Good booze and
plenty of socializing.  But limit your drinking.  Give yourself at least four
and preferably six hours between play and work.”
    “If you say so. And no one has said anything to me about a
lounge.  Deck C, area three forward?  I’ll give it a look-see.”
    I still have several hours until my shift is over.  Mack
left me a stack of work orders.  A wide range of fixes takes me to each corner
of the maneuver drive room.  They also get me familiar with practically
everything in the tool locker.  As we aren’t always in eyesight of one another,
Gorb and I have short-range intercom headsets.
    “Shownya?” I hear Gorb crackle in my ear, “I’m going to get
lunch, I’ll be back later.”  Do I…no, it’s not set to always on.   Then
he didn’t hear me—directly—cursing that bolt that wouldn’t break free.
    I key my microphone. “Okay, Gorb.”  When he gets back I go.
    After my shift, I make my way forward and up to the lounge. 
It’s not far from my stateroom. That’s convenient.  The lounge is very nice and
tastefully decorated, bigger than I would have expected. There are murals on
the walls depicting several battles.  I’m guessing Night Searcher was
involved in them.  These are the maps and charts, but there are a few
photographs also.  There are also several portraits, most likely famous
Captains and/or beloved crewmen. The image of the stars streaking by the
forward window—view port—is mesmerizing.
    Looking around, I see two women sitting by the wall. Two
guys that look like techies share a table in the middle, and a group of seven
men and women sit around a large table in the upper area that looks out over
the bow.  That is the noisiest crowd.
    The bartender is a very cute brunette with short, stylish
hair. “What can I get you, honey? I’m Rachel.” She sets the obligatory napkin
on the bar.
    “Hi, I’m Sonia.  Have any stouts?  If not, anything dark and
fermented is good.  Preferably at room temperature.” She brings the drink.  I’m
impressed, the glass is not warm, but it isn’t cold.  “Thanks. So who does a
new girl approach for conversation without having to worry about fighting off
an octopus later?”
    We shake hands across the bar. “Not inclined to visit the
broom closet? Well, that rules out the boys at the upper table. But should you
change your mind, I guess you can take your pick of them. Those two techies
over there, Ron and Johan, don’t like girls if you catch my meaning, but they
are really nice guys. And they are actually fun to be around.  Those two women
over there are about as snobby as women get, but really good pilots.”
    I dip my hand absentmindedly into a bowl of peanuts on the
bar.  “When I came aboard, I saw a man with metal gloves and boots. He had a
respirator strapped across his throat.  I haven’t seen him since, but I noticed
Aria practically kowtow to him.  Who is he?”
    “Oh, that’s Captain Prowse. Good man. Don’t let that hooded
tunic stuff mess with your head. I mean take him seriously, of course.  He
literally holds the power of life and death over everyone aboard.  But he isn’t
a gothic monstrosity.  Rumor is he got caught in a serious plasma accident
years ago. He also wears some sort of a bio unit that helps him breathe.  I
think he opted for the hood because what hair he still has is pretty thin.  And
with the scars he gets stared at either way.  Perhaps he thinks fear and awe
are better than compassion and pity. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some drinks
to pour.”
    Rachel gets busy when about a dozen more people come in. 
I’ll take a chance with Ron and Johan, so I approach their table.  “Hi guys, my
name is Sonia.  Do you mind if I join you?”
    They stand and we all shake hands.