Chapter 3
T he arrival of the children’s Sunday story hour group distracted me from Andrew’s request. They all had to greet Hieronymus, naturally, and he, of course, preened under the attention like the cat he was programmed to be. I occupied myself with their needs, getting them settled into the reading nook, making sure Ninna, the day’s reader, had what she required, and so on.
But my mind kept straying back to Andrew’s book request. It was an odd one, that was for sure, and not just because it didn’t really meet any of the requirements for a book to be printed. What were the chances that anyone else would want to read such a thing?
Low to none, that’s what.
Except … I was intrigued. Enough that I now wanted to at least leaf through it, mostly to see if I could figure out why he wanted the book. Blast it. I needed to give serious thought to whether or not there was enough reason to approve this printing.
Everything said I shouldn’t. For one, there was a limited number of permissions, and he’d already had two. Considering the printing allotment-to-passenger ratio, he’d had twice what he should have had already.
Secondly, it wasn’t a book anyone else was likely to be interested in.
Thirdly, he was a big pain in the backside.
I was about to take a seat to continue pondering his request when a patron walked in. I stayed on my feet. I didn’t like to sit too often anyway. Sitting led to spreading, and I didn’t powerwalk the observation loop on Deck 18 three days a week just so my backside could get flatter. Besides the exercise, it was a great way to recenter myself. To find some breathing space.
The man approached the desk. No one I recognized, which was unusual, since I prided myself on knowing most folks on board. He was an older man, tall and sturdy-looking, with the kind of sinewy muscles and broad back that said he was familiar with physical labor. He wore the navy jumpsuit of the engineering and mechanical crews. His hair was as black as the remnants of grease under his nails and streaked through with silver.
Much like mine, although mine had a lot more silver. “Welcome to the library. What can I help you with today?”
“Ma’am.” He nodded at me in greeting, the warm, soothing tones of his voice making him sound like a late-night radio DJ. He placed his library card on the desk. “I’d like to return these books and get some new ones, but I’m in need of some recommendations.”
“I’d be happy to help you with that, Mr.…”
“Kitson. Frank Kitson. I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting. You new here?”
I smiled. And maybe accidentally batted my eyelashes. “No. I’m the head of the library. But you’re right, we haven’t met. I’m sure I’d remember you.” Because, hello, he was probably the best-looking man I’d seen on board so far.
“I usually come in on Saturdays. I’m off on Saturday and Sunday, but things got shifted around a bit. I work in mechanical engineering, and we’ve been dealing with a buggy rotational thruster. Then one of the condensers started acting up and it was an all-hands-on-deck situation.” He smiled. “You don’t want to hear about all that.”
I steadied myself with a hand on the desk. That was some smile. “It’s not often I get to hear about the inner workings of the starliner, so it’s genuinely interesting.”
“Kind of you to say so. Anyway, I had to skip yesterday, so I’m here now.”
Stars alive, he was handsome. Still had all of his hair and looked very fit. “That would explain why we haven’t met. I’m usually off on Saturdays and Sundays, but I’m filling in for a colleague today. So, Mr. Kitson?—”
“Call me Frank, please.”
“Frank, then.” I smiled. “I’m Ellis McFadden, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Ellis.” He jutted his chin toward something behind me. “That your fellow there?”
I turned and realized he meant Harry, who was snoozing in his bed. “That’s right. That’s Hieronymus. Harry for short. You like cats?”
“I like all animals, but I’m especially fond of compdroids. Is that Hieronymus as in Hieronymus Bosch the Dutch painter or like the detective in author Michael Connelly’s books?”
Something fluttered in my heart. I swallowed and tried not to swoon over a man who was well-read enough to know both of those references. “After Michael Connelly’s detective.”
Frank smiled again. “Great name for such a handsome beast. Fantastic books, too.”
“I agree. Which brings us back to why you’re here. Let’s see if we can’t fix you up with some new reading, Frank.”
“I’d be much obliged.”
I took his card and touched it to the scanner on my side of the counter. Instantly, his reading history, along with his current list of checked-out books, popped up on my screen.
Hmm. He liked mysteries, detective novels, historical sagas, Westerns, adventure stories and the occasional techno-thriller. He was currently reading through the Poirot books. I smiled. A man who liked Agatha Christie, now there was a treasure.
He was returning books twelve, thirteen, and fourteen. I glanced at him. “Would you like the next three Poirot books?”
He nodded. “I would. What else might you recommend? Those only last me so long.”
I added the Poirot books, then looked at him again. “How do you feel about spy novels?”
His brows rose in consideration. “Don’t know till I try one.”
I added two to his list. One was nonfiction about the Cold War, and one was fiction featuring a darker-than-James Bond protagonist. I found a Western he hadn’t read and put that on. Then, just because, I snuck a historical romance into his pile.
I clicked the button to process and tapped his card to the reader again. “There you go. I hope you enjoy them. Maybe I’ll see you again next time you come in and you can tell me what you thought of my suggestions.”
He smiled. “I’d like that, Ellis.”
I swear the way he said my name sent a little shiver through me.
He stuck his card in his pocket and touched his fingers to his forehead like he was doffing his cap. “You and Hieronymus take care now.”
“You, too.”
As Frank was leaving, Vashti was coming in. I’d told her about working today since I was talking to her when Miriam messaged me. Vashti made big eyes at me as she approached the counter. “Who was that?” she whispered.
“A library patron.”
She pursed her lips. “I know that. Seriously, who was he?”
I grinned. “Frank Kitson. Works in engineering. Not bad, huh?”
“Not bad at all.” Vashi put two wrapped sandwiches on the counter. “Did you eat yet? If not, do you have time for some lunch? I wasn’t sure, since you’re filling in, but I just thought I’d take my break with you.”
“I haven’t eaten, but I definitely have time now. Thank you. That was so thoughtful of you.” Itzak would be in any minute. “Grab a seat. Sick bay must be quiet.”
Vashti shrugged as she joined me behind the counter. “It’s been pretty slow today, although we did have a broken arm this morning thanks to a cruiser getting a little too into a fencing match on one of the simdecks. How’s your day going?”
“Good. Busy but not too bad. And Itzak will be here any second. If you wait for him to come in, we can eat in my office.”
“Works for me.” Vashti petted Harry.
Itzak was as punctual as always. I left him chatting with Vashti and went to the kitchen, which wasn’t really a kitchen so much as a small counter with a half-fridge, a sterilizer, and a basic Instachef. It could only do simple foods like breads, noodles, soups, bars, cookies, things of that sort. Coffee, tea, and a variety of flavored water were all the beverages it could manage. But that was about all anyone needed in the library anyway.
A countertop ran the length of one wall. Tucked under it were two stools. I had yet to eat there. The room was barely the size of a bathroom, mostly because the book printer took up the back wall. I much preferred taking my breaks in my office.
I got two cups of filtered water. The carbonated option hadn’t worked for nearly a month, despite the repair form I’d sent in when it had broken. I instantly thought about Frank. Was that something he could fix? Probably, but it was also well beneath his pay grade. The man was working on thrusters and condensers, after all.
I took the water back out. Itzak was helping a patron. Vashti was petting Harry and talking to him. Telling him what a handsome boy he was, no doubt. Vashti was very sweet to Harry.
“Got us water.” I held up the cups.
“Great.” Vashti grabbed the sandwiches and followed me, along with Harry, to my office. I set the cups on the desk, then closed the door after she and Harry were in.
“What kind of sandwiches did you bring?”
“There’s hummus and tomato for me, and a BLT on toast for you. Is that all right?”
“That’s perfect.” I settled into the chair behind the desk.
We ate and chatted, mostly about the patients Vashti had seen recently. Doctor-patient confidentiality remained in place because Vashti never used names, but I appreciated the vague information all the same. I hoped if there were ever an outbreak of anything, I’d be among the first to know.
An outbreak on the starliner would be very bad news. Thankfully, we’d all been fully inoculated against everything under the sun. And everything above it and beside it. The air was scrubbed constantly through UV filters, too.
Vashti was nearly through the second half of her sandwich. “What’s new with you?”
“Well…” I didn’t have to work within the confines of any librarian-patron confidentiality, so I was just fine with sharing names. “Andrew Woolsey came in today to ask for another book to be printed.”
Vashti’s brow wrinkled in clear irritation. “No one thinks more of that man than he does. Are you going to print it?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I probably shouldn’t. Then again, I don’t get a lot of requests for printed books.”
“If you do it, you should make sure he knows he owes you.”
“Maybe. But what am I ever going to need a theoretical botanist for?” I was nearly done with my sandwich. It was very tasty.
Vashti snorted. “Good point. You could always tell him he’s reached his limit.”
“I might. I don’t know yet.” I leaned in. “Part of me is a little curious about the book. It’s something to do with alchemy.”
Vashti frowned. “Alchemy? That’s not science.”
“No, it’s not. Which is why I’m curious. What on Earth could he want that for?”
“Do you know what he’s working on?”
“Not a clue, just some big project he talks about endlessly without actually telling anyone what it is.”
Vashti ate her last bite, then smiled. “Print the book and we’ll read it. See if we can figure out what he’s up to.” She got to her feet, tossed her waxed sandwich wrapper in the recycling bin, then sighed in my direction. “I should get back to sick bay. You’ll be at dinner tonight, right?”
“Yes. Aren’t we supposed to be doing something after?” I thought we’d talked about it, but I couldn’t quite remember.
“Yes, but we never landed on what. There’s Twinnie’s karaoke in the Playhouse Lounge, darts at the Red Lion, or poker at the Starlight.” Vashti’s brows lifted in anticipation. “Any of those sound good? We don’t have to participate. Just go and watch. And laugh.”
All of those spots were lower deck areas that were restricted to staff and workers. Meaning no cruisers, which was nice. Sometimes we mingled with the tourists, but they tended to ask a lot of questions about the starliner and life aboard it when most of us were looking to relax on our off hours. “Where do you want to go?”
“How about a few drinks at the Red Lion and we’ll watch some darts. Just for an hour or so. We all have work in the morning.”
I nodded. Vashti was English, and she’d come from London. It was no surprise she wanted to go to the place on board that was meant to resemble a pub. I liked the vibe there, too, though. “I’m in. I love a pint of cider now and then.” I rarely drank, but cider was an occasional treat. Mostly when I was out with Vashti.
“Wonderful. Thank you.” Vashti’s attention shifted to Harry as she gave him a little scratch. “You sweet thing.” She looked at me again. “Print that book for Woolsey. I know you don’t like him, but maybe he’s on the verge of a breakthrough.”
“Maybe,” I said with no real enthusiasm. “See you tonight.” I waved as she left.
I got her point. If he really did need the book, I didn’t want to be the one who’d stood in the way of his big discovery. Or whatever it was.
I called up Andrew’s request on my screen. Vashti was right. There generally weren’t a lot of print requests, so it wasn’t really that big of a deal if Andrew had more than his share. At least not at this date it wasn’t. And what if Andrew was about to discover some revolutionary new plant compound that would turn out to be a new fuel foundation or provide a novel food source or cure some terrible disease?
I might not like the man, but I wasn’t one to stand in the way of progress, either.
If progress was what he was actually doing. I really couldn’t stress how much I didn’t want it to be some new plant-based Viagra or cure for male pattern baldness. Now if it was for hot flashes…
I stared at his request, looking deeper into the details. It had a printing time of five hours and twenty-seven minutes. Must be a bigger book than I’d realized. Probably with illustrations. Those always took longer, especially if they were color.
If I started it now, it would be ready after dinner. Well, after our visit to the Red Lion, which would be immediately after dinner.
With a reluctant sigh, I tapped the screen to begin the process.
That man owed me.