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Stephen was roused from his reflections by a noise, something like a turbine quickly starting up and shutting down, twice in quick succession. Nothing else seemed to occur, though (he did not notice the change in Roth’s motion as she came about to her new course, having by now become largely insensible of the movements of a living deck), nor did Katya come or call for his assistance, so with nothing else to do (for he also failed to notice that the mood lighting now shone only red) he returned to his considerations.
The morbidly obese purser was something of a puzzle. He was corrupt, though Stephen was not particularly surprised at this: a great deal of money and material flowed through his hands, apparently without oversight; high character indeed would be needed for nothing to stick to his fingers on its way through. No, the puzzle was why he was in space, for clearly he was not happy in this position. This seemed not to be the result of a dislike of the Roth nor anyone aboard her: Stephen had considered the possibility that Lieutenant O’Brian, as a new captain - skipper, he corrected himself - might have upset Mister Blaine’s previously-content life with unwelcome changes, but he could find no evidence to support this theory, for while the lieutenant had certainly made changes, the purser’s unhappiness seemed to predate them; nor did the man seem to be on particularly bad terms with anyone aboard; nor did he tend to speak disparagingly of Roth herself. No, the truth seemed to be that Mister Blaine simply did not like space, or did not like being in space, and that being so, Stephen did not comprehend why the man had chosen a vocation that kept him afloat.
Aside from this puzzle and his corruption, he was a reasonable companion, if a certain shallowness were overlooked. Whatever Roth’s current emergency, Stephen wondered how the purser was taking it. “I hope he doesn’t stress himself into an MI or a CVA,” he muttered to himself: even a single flight of stairs was enough to leave the man puffing for breath.
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