Truth and Beauty 9-2

Truth and Beauty updates (most) Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

Stephen shook his head. “It was an excellent excuse to get away.”

“Oh?”

“I’m grateful for the opportunity, yes, but the environment is a bit - rigid.” He quickly outlined his run-in with Jack for Pravin’s benefit.

Pravin smiled. “When I heard you had joined the army I said to Martha, ‘how ironic.’ She predicted you would not last a week.”

“Is she here, too?”

“On maternity leave, or she’d be here to see you. Between you and I, I gather her marriage is on the rocks. This child is supposed to save it.” He sighed. “She’d have been happier with you, and you with her. I never did understand why you broke it off.”

“Well,” said Stephen. He stared into his mug absently. “It seemed the right thing to do at the time,” he finished lamely. “And it’s actually the navy I’m shackled to, though I see your point.”

“Dear me, what a sad blunder, I do apologize. But they pay you?”

“Oh, yes. Though I’m embarrassed to say I don’t know how much. Room and board, of course.”

“It sounds ideal.”

Stephen grunted in reply.

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

Truth and Beauty 9-1

Truth and Beauty updates (most) Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

Chapter 9
Doctor Russ had breakfasted an hour earlier, as Candy was waking up and rather before Jack did. He now stood in the darkened radiology suite of the base hospital, peering over the shoulder of his friend and former classmate Pravin Leitner, a mug of coffee in one hand.

“We’ll have to take everything from the body of the stomach to the first third of the jejunum,” Pravin said. “The head and uncinate process of the pancreas, too. But the superior messenteric artery is involved, also, and I don’t know what to do about that.”

“Vitton wrote about constructing a new celiac in last month’s Chirurgie,” Stephen said. “Perhaps we can do the same here.”

Pravin pursed his lips. “Yes,” he said, “I saw. But that was a much younger patient. Look at these calcifications. I fear it will crumble as soon as we touch it.”

“It’s a slow-moving cancer. Put in a Collins sleeve, with ports, and give it a week to set. Then, suture to the sleeve.”

“And the veins?”

“Veins are veins,” said Stephen with a dismissive wave of his free hand. “They all lead back to the liver. Worst-case scenario you put in a Jimenez tube leading to the portal vein.”

Pravin thought about this. “I am convinced,” he said at last. “Yes, I am convinced.” He stood and led Stephen into the hallway, stunningly bright after the darkness of the viewing rooms. He was about Stephen’s age, slightly overweight and under-height, with a shining pate that he shaved to mask a badly receded hairline, cafe-au-lait-colored skin, and deep green eyes. Like Stephen, he wore hospital scrubs. “I feel bad to have asked you down here for a surgery and then only have a Collins sleeve placement for you.”

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

Truth and Beauty 8-11

Truth and Beauty updates (most) Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

* * *
Afterwords they lay in bed, side by side. “Now I suppose I’ll have to go upstairs for your fat lieutenant,” she said, “unless you’d like another go?”

“If I’m saving you from Olson does that give me a freebie?”

“Is that what you think I am, a pros?”

“Er,” said Jack, feeling very wrong-footed, but also thinking that things had moved very quickly for Candy not to be a prostitute.

“No, I am,” she smiled, enjoying the game. “But I like to have a relationship with my clients. Sleep with me nine times and the tenth fuck’s free. And in answer to your question, your fat lieutenant’s not that bad, but if you’ll keep me for the rest of the night I’ll give you 25% off.”

“Forty percent.”

“Thirty-three and buy me breakfast in the morning, and that’s my final offer.”

He rolled over and pulled her body toward his. “Deal.”


* * *
In the morning he woke up to find her sitting at his computer. “I’m sorry,” she said, seeing him awake, “my phone died and I needed to check my email. My mother - well, I needed to check my email.” She folded down the computer screen. “Once we’ve had breakfast and you’ve paid me, I really need to go, sorry.”

They breakfasted on coffee, toast, real bacon, and eggs via room service, then Jack paid her and she left, first giving him a calling card in case he wanted her services again.

He closed and locked the door after she left, then tossed her card on the desk beside his computer and fell back into bed to stare at the ceiling.

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

Truth and Beauty 8-10

Truth and Beauty updates (most) Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

She considered him, pulling again on her cigarette so that the ember burned brightly. “Fuck names,” she said finally. “How long are you in town for, John?”

“Well, Candy, at least three days. My brig is in dry dock and they tell me they need at least that long with her.”

“You’re not telling me you command the Acrimony?”

“No, I command the Roth,” said Jack, realizing his mistake too late. Skippers’ names were all but public record.

“I thought Cahill had the Wrath.”

Jack laughed. “She has been called that, yes.”

A small frown appeared on Candy’s face, to be wiped away a moment later as their drinks arrived. Jack paid, and once the waiter had left again Candy pointed her chin over Jack’s shoulder. “That man has been giving me the eye all night,” she said.

Jack turned. “The fat lieutenant with the white mutton-chop sideburns? That’s Ol-”

“Him, too, actually, but no, the man behind him, in civvies.”

“Oh,” said Jack, recognizing his ship’s surgeon. “No, I don’t know who he is.”

“He gives me the creeps.”

Jack turned back to the table, noting that Candy’s glass was already almost empty. “Why don’t we go downstairs? We could escape them both.”

“Oh, good.” said Candy. “I half promised to to allow your fat lieutenant to buy me my next drink. Quick, before he looks again.” She took his hand and pulled him out of the lounge, their heads ducked low. In the elevator they burst into laughter, as if they had just escaped a scolding, and she clutched onto him for support. She continued to lean on him as they left they elevator, and Jack suspected that her martini had not been her first drink of the night. At his room he opened the door and she led him in, kicking off her shoes expertly before stumbling backwards onto the bed, pulling Jack on top of her.

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

Truth and Beauty 8-9

Truth and Beauty updates (most) Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

“By all means, said Jack, waving genially at the empty chairs.

The woman’s nose dominated her face, but otherwise she was pretty, for a prostitute. She chose the chair beside him, not accidentally bumping his knee as she sat down. “In town long?” she asked.

“I arrived this afternoon.”

She pulled a drag on her cigarette and exhaled, adding to the haze in the room as she looked him over. “Buy me a drink, why don’t you,” she said eventually. “I’m dry and I’d like to be wet.”

Jack pressed the large button in the middle of that table, which began to flash.

“Those don’t work,” said the prostitute (Jack was sure she was a prostitute, now). “You’ll have to flag someone.”

Jack knew she was manipulating him, but he had an end in sight, so he looked around, finding a waiter two tables over and catching his eye. He turned back to the prostitute. “What should I call you?”

“Call me Candy.”

“What’ll you have, Candy?”

“You’re not going to tell me your name?”

Jack laughed. “Call me John,” he said. “The waiter is coming over, what do you want to drink?”

“You order for me.”

“A dirty martini for the lady, and I’ll have another pint of the house lager,” Jack told the waiter.

“I don’t think that’s really your name,” Candy said, once the waiter had left. “Tell me your name.”

Jack put on a mock-offended face. “It is absolutely my name. It is as much my name as Candy is yours.”

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

STO'B 7-2

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next
GLOSSARY

The gun went off with a half-hearted ‘bang’ that only threw the ball a cable’s length or so, but now the crew was back in its rhythm; sponging, loading, ramming, priming and cocking in only a minute and twenty-two seconds. The gun captain was pulled his lanyard again.

This time, the powder produced no more than a dull roar that sent the ball rolling out the end of the barrel and into the sea, leaving the gun crew to trade blank stares.

“You’re wasting time,” called Philip, walking down the gangway toward the foc’cle with his stopwatch in hand, and the crew heaved on the train tackle, pulling the gun in to sponge and reload it. But again, their rhythm was broken, and two more minutes passed before the gun was primed, cocked, and ready.

“Five minutes, eighteen seconds,” said Philip. He allowed the silence to stretch out, he was not pleased. “Gun three, fire as you bear.”

Gun three’s first shot with the practice powder was loud and true, flying well over a thousand yards before skipping twice and finally vanishing into a wave. Thus it was a game of chance, how far the gun would fire with the strange green-letter powder, very exciting for that part of the crew that enjoyed gambling, bear-bating, and the like. They watched openly, cheering the successful shots, sharing a collective sigh at the duds.

The first hang fire occurred at gun seven, when the captain pulled the lanyard and nothing happened, or almost nothing. There was a faint hiss and a tendril of smoke curled form the touch hole. “Keep clear!” ordered Philip, who had moved behind each successive gun as it was fired, to better judge their efforts. They were all of them deaf from the successful shots, and one of the men, an import from the Tres Hermanas, had never seen a gun fired before and was stepping toward it. “Steigel, stand clear,” said Philip again, grabbing the man by the shoulder and pulling him back from the gun. “It still may-” But the gun cut off his explanation, jerking back with a roar, snapping its tackle tight where Steigel had stood a moment before.

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next
GLOSSARY

Truth and Beauty 8-8

Truth and Beauty updates (most) Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes, then looked blankly around his quarters at the barracks. The decor was spartan: an unadorned steel bed and matching desk, with a single, mismatched chair, and the neglected look of a motel that rented rooms by the hour. A grimy window, flanked by dusty, nondescript curtains, looked out on the parade grounds, several floors below. Jack’s valise stood on a folding stand in the corner by the bathroom. “Well,” he said, after several seconds of blank staring, “there is always the lounge.”



The officers’ lounge was on the top story, a wood-paneled room with a magnificent fireplace in which a fire crackled merrily. Tobacco smoke filled the air; folding chairs and card tables filled the floor. Leave it to the army to fuck things up, Jack thought.

He worked his way through the crowd to the bar. Attracting the bartender’s attention was difficult until Jack thought to produce a 20£ note, which caught her attention.

Drink in hand, he moved away from the bar and looked over the crowd for a familiar face. Some of Roth’s officers were gathered around a pool table, and Jack started threading his way over to them before stopping suddenly enough that beer slopped over the edge of his glass.

“That was close,” he muttered, turning away and finding an unoccupied table. He downed half of his beer and leaned back in his chair. Most of the patrons were strangers, but a few faces were vaguely familiar. At a table off to the right sat a figure whose back looked suspiciously like Wiltshire; Jack turned his own chair to the left.

“You look lonely, sailor,” said a feminine voice, and looking up Jack saw a woman in a low-cut, brilliantly blue dress, her dark hair up in an elegant knot and a cigarette in her hand. “Mind if I sit down?”

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

STO'B 7-1

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next
GLOSSARY


Philip returned to the quarterdeck., opened his pocket-watch, and said, “beat to quarters.”

The drum beat out directly, there being neither a lieutenant nor a midshipman to convey the message, and the crew scattered and reformed, casting loose their guns, sanding and wetting the decks, attending to the myriad tasks that prepared Badger for battle. Eighteen minutes and 32 seconds later his remaining officers reported the tasks complete. Not a bad time with such a reduced crew, Philip thought, though he also realized that the number was somewhat artificial. There was nothing unexpected about Badger’s going to quarters after divisions; she did so every day except Sunday, and Philip had noticed that many of the crew had prepped as they went to divisions, loosening tackle, filling buckets with water, other little tasks designed to shave off few seconds. They were jealous of their reputation, proud of what they had accomplished.

“Each gun will fire three rounds, live firing with practice powder. Silence, fore and aft,” he called. He looked at his watch again, “gun one, cast loose your gun and fire as you bear.”

Gun one cast loose, under the keen eyes of the rest of the crew, for here was the gun against which all others would be judged. Forty-one seconds after Jack gave the command, the gun went off with a gruff bark, spitting its ball out into the ocean and breathing out a cloud of smoke. The gun crew, lately used to silent, smokeless dumb-show practice, lost their rhythm, and close to two minutes passed before the gun was loaded with the rotten practice powder, run up again and ready to fire. This time the gun crew drew as far away from their charge as they could, covering their ears and opening their mouths, and the gun captain actually closed his eyes as he pulled the lanyard.

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next
GLOSSARY

Truth and Beauty 8-7

Truth and Beauty updates (most) Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

More laughter, then a muffled thump as a sea chest slammed shut. “Help me lift it,” said Kinsey.

“Hold your hamsters. Holy fuck, what is this, lined with lead?”

More thumping and cursing, and the voices receded. Jack shook his head. Too many of his officers and men remained unfamiliar to him. He stepped slowly down the companion.

On the spar deck he met Doctor Russ, holding a bundle of clothing tied up with string, fumbling with the latch to the wardroom door. “How do you do, Doctor?” he asked.

Doctor Russ turned and saw Jack, and stood up straight, transferring his bundle under one arm and saluting. “How do you do, Captain,” he said.

“Would you like a hand with the door?” asked Jack, after an uncomfortable silence.

“You are very good, sir, but I’m sure I’m up to the task.”

‘And he fixed me with a cold, dark stare - I never noticed how dark his eyes were before,’ Jack wrote in an email to Jevons later that evening, ‘so although I very much wanted to apologize the words wouldn’t come. And then he formally told me that he had been requested at the hospital, to help in some surgery - and ostomy, or an otomy, some Latin-sounding thing, and as Roth had no one in sick berth might he go? I said yes, of course. Apart from anything else we’re all on leave (except for me, of course, after I crashed the Roth into the warp gate) and he may come and go as he pleases, so I couldn’t say no even if I wanted to. And he thanked me, perfectly civil, but cold, and stood waiting for me to leave.’

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

Truth and Beauty 8-6

Truth and Beauty updates (most) Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

An hour and a half later, Roth was all but empty of her officers and crew, and Jack closed and locked the door to his suite of cabins. Pocketing the old-fashioned brass key, he patted his breast with his free hand, checking that his sextant, the most valuable thing he owned (his commission was technically property of the crown), was secure in his pocket. Then he stooped and picked up his valise.

Conversation floated up the companion. As an exercise he paused to try and identify the speakers. They were midshipmen, clearly, as he had already seen the ship’s boys safely off the ship in the care of the gunner.

“Gimme a minute,” said one, and Jack pictured his tallest, oldest midshipman, with curly red hair, but what was his name? “Hold your horses,” said what was probably the same person.

“It’s past three bells already, hurry up,” said a second voice.

“Hold your horses,” said the tall midshipman again - Kinsey, Jack thought.

“What’s a horse?” asked a voice Jack was certain belonged to Barus.

“It’s an animal.”

“Like a hamster?” asked Barus. “Hold your hamsters?”

Laughter floated up the companion.

“No,” said Kinsey, “bigger. Like a cow.”

“Hold your cows?”

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

Truth and Beauty 8-5

Truth and Beauty updates (most) Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

* * *

Dry dock, and Roth creaking and groaning as the pressure around her hull rose. Dockyard mates swarmed through her corridors and engineering spaces, sharply out of place in their faded, grease-stained boiler suits, while the Roths themselves (for so her crew were called) mustered on the berth deck.

“Mister Greenstreet,” said the captain, “you may allow the hands three days leave, to return on board by noon this Sunday. Half of their wages due has been placed on their pay cards, with the balance held until they return. Anything they want for the next three days they will need to take with them, as there will be no access to the barky while she is in the dockyard’s hands. Housing will be available at the dockyard barracks, or they may see to their own arrangements. You need not add,” he raised his voice for all to hear, “that deserters forfeit their pay-in-balance and will be hunted down like the dogs they are, for the hands will already know that.”

“Three days leave, half of pay due, take all items wanted, barracks or own arrangements,” said the first officer before turning to address the crew and repeating Jack’s orders almost verbatim.

“Very good, Mister Greenstreet. You may dismiss the men,” said the captain, after a curious, expectant silence. The first officer dismissed the crew, and an excited babble broke out. Neva-IV was no Silver Sphere, nor even a New Las Vegas, but leave was leave, and money was money. “Mister Greenstreet, the same orders for the officers, if you please. We must all of us be off the Roth by the end of the first dog, so there is not a moment to lose.”

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

Truth and Beauty 8-4

Truth and Beauty updates (most) Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

The meal was over, and the admiral and vice-admiral had left. Jack sat alone in the great cabin, working through some of the many documents he was responsible for as the Roth’s commander. He signed the receipt for the carbon slurry and clicked ‘send,’ leaned back in his chair, out of the circle of light cast by his desk lamp, and sighed. The voice of a woman he’d once known floated through his mind: “of course he knows how to push your buttons. He installed them.” What had ever happened to her, he wondered. He considered calling Jevons, or perhaps sending him a text, but Jevons was in another system, unreachable.

The sentry knocked. “Come,” Jack called, but instead of Sublieutenant Greenstreet, Doctor Russ appeared, a shining smile upon his lips and a wrapped bottle of wine in his hand.

“You wished to see me?”

“Doctor Russ,” said the captain. “I was not aware that you had left the Roth until Mister Barus told me he had seen you depart.”

“I did not realize that I needed to let you know. I beg pardon.”

“Not only did you fail to let me know, Doctor, you failed to get, or even to seek, permission to leave.”

“Permission?”

“I am the Roth’s commander. I am responsible for every thing, and every one, aboard her. Without my permission, nobody, nobody under flag rank, boards or leaves.”

Stephen did not reply, and in the silence the sentry knocked. “Forgive me, Doctor, but this is probably Lieutenant Greenstreet about moving us to dry dock,” said Jack.

The Doctor bowed, “your servant.” He stepped up to Jack’s desk, and for a moment Jack thought Stephen was about to hit him, but the doctor merely clunked the bottle onto the desk. “Your wine,” he said, then turned and left.

First Post|Previous Post|Next Post

STO'B 6-10

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next| last episode with Dr M’Mullen GLOSSARY

Philip nodded. “You’ve been very busy, Mister Horrace. I dare say you haven’t had a chance to enter this powder in your log, yet?”

“No, sir, not yet. I usually leaves the fine copy till the beginning of the following day, sir, to allow for all that might happen. It also helps me to get up to speed for the day to come, like, looking over the last day.”

“Well, perhaps the carpenter can spare you some green paint to mark the casks with,” said Philip, who had given the matter some thought over the preceding hours.

“Green, sir?”

“Come, Mister Horrace. It certainly doesn’t qualify for red markings, does it?”

“Cylinder powder? No, sir, not at all.”

“And blue would be ordinary powder, while white is recycled, neither of which apply here, though I understand that the ordinance board keeps close track of both?”

“Yes, sir, that they do,” said the gunner, nodding but still clearly confused.

“But green powder?”

“Oh,” said the gunner, cottoning on at last. “No, I don’t suppose they’d give a rat’s ass about green powder, begging your pardon. In fact, recording it might be more trouble and confusion than it’s worth, from the board’s point of view.”

Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next| last episode with Dr M’Mullen GLOSSARY