“Nobody expects janitors to be able to use central, computers,” Kneale said. “People are sloppy. They leave mechanical lock-outs open and they write passwords down on memo pads. So my friend built himself up an identity, confirmed it, and cut himself orders for Trident Officers’ Academy. He didn’t have a lot of problem after that. He really had the background, you see. Only he couldn’t use the real one since he’d murdered the son of a bitch who’d been robbing him blind because he knew my friend trusted him.”
“What are you telling me?” Colville said in a voice like shingles creaking in the night
“I’m telling you that Trident Starlines needs resourceful officers,” Kneale replied. “I’m telling you that people will believe a man is what he seems to be. I’m telling you that a man is what he seems to be. So it’s very important that you and I and our friends all act like dedicated officers to whom Trident Starlines is more than our lives.”
And to whom civilization is more even than Trident Starlines, but Commander Hiram Kneale didn’t say that aloud.
His smile softened. “That’s all, Ran. But particularly now, I thought it was important that you hear it. Go on about your business. I’m sure you have personal business to take care of before undocking.”
“Thank you, sir,” Colville said. He stood and saluted crisply.
He turned, then paused and looked back over his shoulder. “I—expect to make myself worthy of your trust, Commander.”
“Hiram,” corrected Kneale. “I expect you will too, Ran.”
And that was god’s truth. Because otherwise, Kneale would have seen to it that this hard-faced imposter was under the jail.
EARTH:
UNDOCKING
“Excuse me, Captain,” said the beaming passenger just as Ran Colville’s ear clip buzzed him. “I wonder if I might trouble you to stand by my wife for a picture? To show people back home that we were really here, you know.”
The dip raided again. Somebody sure thought it was an emergency.
The center of the Social Hall—the Empress’s First Class lounge—was a huge expanse, almost the worst room in the ship for Ran to find a place in which to flex his communicator to part of the structure. The walls sported holographic images of the buildings surrounding the Roman Forum in the time of Augustus, and the designers hadn’t needed to modify the scale greatly to fit the available space.
Ordinary radio communications didn’t work within the mass of metal and electronics that was the Empress of Earth. On so large a ship, a public address blaring audio requests from tannoys in every compartment was, for both practical and esthetic reasons, possible only in general emergencies. For most purposes, messages were pulsed in recipient-coded packets from infra-red lenses in the vessel’s moldings. These were picked up and converted to audio alarms by the clip each crewman wore behind one ear.
For actual communication, the crewman switched on the commo unit on his waistbelt and turned so that the unit had a line of sight to a ceiling transceiver. When the commo unit was on and properly positioned, the system provided full two-way communication between all portions of the vessel’s interior.
About a hundred passengers sat in the lounge or stood, viewing the holographic murals with awkward nonchalance. They had arrived early and, with their luggage stowed in their cabins, had nothing very obvious to do. Most of them were new to interstellar travel—old hands at the business tended to arrive hours or less before undocking, perhaps having first called “their” steward to see that “their” cabin (or often suite) would be ready for them to slip into with the ease of putting on a favorite pair of shoes.
The furniture in the Social Hall mimicked the curves and color of the ivory stools of Roman senators, but common sense (or Trident officials) had prevented the designer from more than suggesting that thoroughly uncomfortable fashion. The chairs and couches had backs—which adjusted to users’ posture. They were upholstered in red-purple silk, the true color of “imperial purple,” though few of the Empress’s passengers were going to make that connection.
Silk was neither more comfortable nor more lustrous than many of the synthetics that might have been used in its place, but First Class clients of the Empress of Earth could be expected to tell the difference. Thin silk cover cloths were laid over a synthetic base, edge-bonded, and replaced as soon as they showed signs of wear.