Palimpsest - Thunderfield (novels to improve english .txt) 📗

/> ‘Where is your cabin?’
‘two, oh three, Deck Thirteen’
‘Go to Ronan, I will call your cabin in half an hour.’
Max and Asami left Kemps den, she veered off the main corridor towards the crew elevators and Max weaved back to the interhull stairs and then eventually to his own deck. To avoid being overheard he stopped at the T junction between corridor one and passage six, with both corridors in view he got his comtube from his pocket and called Susan Morgan.
‘Doctor, its Max’
‘Hi Max’ she sounded pleased to hear him, ‘it is very late, I am about to finish for the day, what is it?’
‘I have found out where my student is,’
‘Oh thank goodness, I’m so pleased for you.’
‘He needs help, he has crashed out in his girlfriends cabin in crew quarters, he had smoked something like a very strong Double G and has been unconscious since, that is before the shake-up.’
‘That’s sounds not so good, and the girl will be in trouble too getting involved like this.’
‘Can you help please? now, and give the girl a break,’ he asked.
‘Okay, as long as he recovers, where are they?’
Max told her and thanked her, and added that he had another student working on the star charts, and then it hit him. He hung up and called Enrique.
‘You still in the lab?’
‘Yes, all route information has been taken off the ships-net. There is nothing there,’ he answered.
‘Stay there I will come up, I have an idea.’
‘Will do, see you soon.’
He called Asami ‘mushi mushi’ she said, he told her the doctor was on the way and reassured her that she was could trust her to keep quiet about the matter.
‘Thank you Max-san’ she said.
Max then tried to dial-back from Kemps earlier call but got a dead tone, he had to walk. He re-entered the stair well and two steps at a time got down as fast as he could, and then half walked and half jogged back to the den. Max began to breathe hard and his shirt arm pits had small dark blue stains. This time Kemp was surprised to see him. ‘That was quick.’
‘Ronan will be taken care of, but I need to ask a favour.’
‘All favours deserve favours,’ the negotiation began.
Ten minutes later Max was yet again on his way back up to Deck Twelve, once there he finally eschewed more stairs and took elevator number four. He shared it with four other passengers who left in pairs at Deck Eight and Deck Six, most of their sparse conversation was about food.
Alone in the lab Enrique looked bored, ‘what have you been doin,g a marathon?’
‘Feels like it,’ Max sat heavily into a chair, ‘right, enter this address.’
He shoved his hand is one of his shirt pockets and handed a piece of paper etched with scrawled handwriting. Enrique frowned at the paper, but did as requested and the screen switched to a contents page. ‘Select appendix four, click here and again, and now go to log in’ Max instructed.
Max pointed to some spidery letters, ‘enter this login ID and this password.’ The screen changed to a central processor dashboard. Max explained, ‘we are looking for navigation.’
Both heads panned up and down and left and right as the younger man scrolled down. ‘Here’ he said and clicked.
‘Now enter this password.’ Max pointed at more scrawl.
‘Where did you get this stuff?’
‘A misguided genius.’
‘Bingo!’ announced Enrique and they were into the navigation computer. They looked through the displayed menu.
‘Open up the current course map,’ urged the lecturer.
Enrique completed a series of clicks and a stylised star map opened up before them, there were G and H type stars, white dwarves, red giants, clouds, clusters and a spiral arm, all without a name or code.
‘Recognise anything?’ asked Max.
‘Nope, nothing springs out at me, it looks like an automated mapping tool taken from visual images.’
‘We can only stay logged in for ten minutes, so have a quick peak, and copy as many maps and images as you can and then get the dodge out.’

* * *

TopDeck had a shallow sky blue dome ceiling that was much higher than the other decks. It reached its maximum height of three stories over Market Square which was a little forward of centre and had four routes leading off from the midpoint of each side of the square, Stern Avenue was wide and lined with artificial trees, the Avenue linked Market Square to VT Plaza. The Plaza was a smaller elongate space where the elevators and stairs were accessed and was the gateway to the ships entertainment deck. Entering Market Square from Stern Avenue there were three narrower exits, Forward Close opposite, Port Street to the left and Starboard Way to the right. Along these four main thoroughfares and the curved lanes that branched off them were shops, restaurants, bars, salons, theatres, clubs and dance halls. It was a town centre.
Naismith was again on a bar stool in the Mayfair, he rarely sipped his beer, the club was one of the quieter more upmarket establishments in a lane just off Stern Avenue. He chatted to the bartender again for thirty pleasant minutes. Prices had doubled and patrons were now limited to two drinks a day, everything was automatically counted and debited from his cabin card. Customer numbers were down, but the ambiance was still there, themed as a tropical island with wall-screens of surf rolling up a sandy beach. Artificial potted palm trees dotted the generous space between the bar and the tinted glass doors to the main promenade.
Close by was a group of well heeled men talking quietly in educated tones, and on Naismith’s favourite topic, conspiracy. Listening unobtrusively the conversation carried on in unenlightened fashion until one of the four, a short balding man with a dark suntan and contrasting crisp white short sleeved shirt said, ‘I heard that the Captain has called for a crisis meeting this afternoon.’
‘Who is to attend?’ said a taller man in a maroon blazer.
‘My source says it’s just senior officers and a few technicians.’
‘We should be involved,’ added a third, and the fourth nodded.
Naismith caught baldy’s eye. The group quietened, toyed with their drinks, mineral water.
‘I am sorry to interrupt gentlemen but your conversation is fascinating, how did you hear of this crisis meeting?’
Baldy spoke again, dismissively ‘just conjecture, we are becoming increasingly bored with this monotonous trip.’
Naismith would not let it go, ‘did you know that a dozen crew from the lower decks and some passengers have been permanently moved to the AdminDeck.’
Eight eyebrows were raised simultaneously.
‘How do you know that?’ asked the blazer.
‘I have a few good connections with the crew myself, and the ordinary ranks are being restricted away from the AdminDeck and they are noticing things.’
‘Well I,’ Baldy emphasized ‘have it on good authority from my connections within the crew that all the chiefs are having a powwow tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Where is your information coming from?’ asked Naismith.
‘We are all from Deck Four, there are a few more officers around there and you pick up things you know. This morning an engineer said his chief officer had been summoned to a special meeting. I thought this a bit fishy and decided to ask around. I have not seen you before though what deck on you on?’
‘A middle deck’ said Naismith impassively.
Baldy took another sip of his drink, Naismith could see it was actually gin or vodka, Baldy dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘So I asked around, all chaps I know through my club’
Freemasons or some other cabal thought Naismith immediately.
‘Two others confirmed that their chiefs are unavailable at 3 pm today.’
‘Do you know where?’ asked the blazer a little louder.
Baldy frowned ‘keep it down Jeremy, they say they hold such meetings in the senior team room, wherever that is.’
Naismith was thinking, Deck Four meant first class tickets, well heeled, well spoken, freemasons or whatever, all connected people used to having influence. ‘Tell me, why you should be there?’
The fourth man in a polo shirt, slacks and deck shoes finally spoke. We are a group of concerned citizens, Marcus’ he indicated Baldy ‘is in the government trade department,’ then to the blazer ‘Jeremy is the Finance Director at PPJ, Clive here is the representative for Ranger North West on New Albion and I am Graeme Sharkey, CEO of Sharkey Corporation’.
‘I have heard about you Mr Sharkey, and am very pleased to meet you all, I am William Naismith a business consultant, and I think you are correct. Distinguished people like you need to be involved on whatever crisis the Captain is wrestling with. If I can facilitate your endeavours and get you in, would you like to join this meeting?’
‘You can arrange an invitation?’ said Sharkey.
‘Not exactly,’ smiled Naismith.
‘Gatecrash the powwow. Yes of course’ said baldy Marcus.
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Publication Date: 09-02-2011

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