Lobster
Run Lobster
Run January, 1998
Alan was flying high, both emotionally and physically. Just that morning at sign-in, he had received official confirmation of his appointment to the Mars Mission and was now doing a little unofficial celebration by ‘practicing’ some fancy Eagle moves high above the far side of the moon.
“Carter, the g-forces on the Eagle are reaching 82% of their tolerance. What the hell are you doing?” demanded Bill Simpson, the Eagle Ops officer for the day, his voice going up a notch in disapproval.
“Just practicing, mate. I’m heading in now.” Simpson was a by-the-books idiot and would never understand. He’d also never get the shot to go to Mars. Alan was almost beside himself with giddiness. This was why he went into space! Helping to build Alpha had been grand, but exploring new lands, that was what made the risk worthwhile. He wanted to feel like Edmund Hillary when he stood atop Mt. Everest for the first time. Since there were no more mountains to conquer on Earth, Mars would do just fine. A Kiwi had been the first up Everest, and now an Aussie would be one of the first men on Mars. Yeah, that was doing the lands Down Under just proud.
Alan landed Eagle 7 with his usual flare and grabbed his helmet before heading out the docking tube. He’d ask Maintenance to go over it with a careful eye before heading over to the Space Dock next week for mission briefing and to start final training. The entire mission there and back would take about eight and a half months, unless they were going to try the new propulsion engines designed by Dr. Compt. That could cut the time down considerably. Anyhow, the briefing would tell.
The news of his promotion had been almost an afterthought. But, damn, Captain Alan Carter. That sounded just grand, too.
In his quarters, the commpost had a message-waiting tag flashing:
Congratulations, Captain. Good news just broadcast on Earth If you want a lobster celebration, send notice of pick-up date and time. The missus and I will send the best, H. Fields.
Alan thought fast and hard. Fresh lobster would make for a fantastic party. He had seven days before he had to report for the Mars Mission. Maybe he could volunteer to fly a shuttle Eagle Earthside and get in a few days holiday. He went to his bureau and pulled out the wallet he never used on Alpha. Good. His Texas driver’s license was still valid for a few more months. That meant he could get around the States and Canada easily, once he re-upped his insurance. Good thing the Lunar Commission had people to help with those sorts of details. He never could quite figure out what the States required. Now, if he could just get someone familiar with the locale to go with him, it would cut down on the chances of getting lost, like he did that time in Ohio. That had been embarassing. He headed into the cafeteria, thinking hard of whom he knew from the New England region of the States. He passed a group of pilot’s and Eagle Maintenance staff heading out having finished eating. He had a bolt of inspiration.
“Hey, Kelly. You’re from New Brunswick aren’t you?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Close to Maine?”
“Not far. Why?”
“Ever gone lobster hunting?”
“Plenty of times. Why?”
“We’ve got a going away party to plan.”
“Whose?”
“Mine. And fresh lobster just made the menu.”
It took a few hours of juggling schedules and requests, but Alan was able to log in an Eagle flight-plan down to the Brunswick Naval Air Base in Brunswick, Maine. He and Kelly would be shuttling down the results of some experiments from the technical and polymer chemistry sections and returning with fresh supplies for those scientists as well as shipments for Medical and Hydroponics…and about five or six prime lobsters.
Chief Petty Officer Harold Fields, U.S. Navy, retired, former Alphan Supplies technician lived on a small island just off the Atlantic coast outside Brunswick, Maine. He and his wife, a small, thin woman of about fifty years, both weathered by the sea, awaited the pilots on the boat launch to their island home. The rented car driven by Kelly pulled to a stop. Harry walked up smiling to shake hands. “Carter, Kelly, welcome.” He grabbed their luggage from the trunk and as he passed his wife, said with a nod, “this is the missus.” Mrs. Fields had a kind smile and an almost reverential awe of the Alphan astronauts.
“Jenny,” she said softly with a nod of welcome. The Fields were as short on words as they were long on hospitality. But that was okay; Alan filled the conversational silences.
Alan found the short trip to the island invigorating. While quite brisk at 7 C, he loved the fresh salt air and the mist in his face. Their goal was a small, weathered home on the lee side of the island, both of which had obviously survived many an Atlantic storm. The inside was simply furnished, but almost painfully clean.
“Make yourselves at home, gentlemen. We’ll head out at first light to check the lobster traps.” And with that, Harry tucked into the hearty dinner served by the missus and then turned into bed.
Harry turned on their bedroom's lights while it was still pitch black outside. The temperature had dropped to -1 C. Alan’s watch read 0905 Lunar time, which would make it, oh… about 0405 local time by his reckoning. The salt air must have helped him sleep in.
“Good morning, gentlemen. Time to run the traps.” And with that, Harry was already heading down the stairs to breakfast.
“What time is it, Alan?” mumbled Kelly from under his pillow.
“Either 0410 or 0910, depending on how you look at it.”
“Friendship is not worth this.” And with that, Kelly rolled over and buried himself in his warm bedding, wishing Melita were here with him.
Alan had to agree, but as this was for his party, he hauled himself out of bed. Without thinking, he pulled on the shorts and tank top he had brought to go to sea in, and then absent-mindedly pulled on his flight jacket when he found he was cold.
Following the scent of eggs and bacon, he found the kitchen and the Fields having breakfast. As she looked at Alan’s choice of clothes, Jenny turned bright red trying not to laugh. Looking at the thick turtleneck sweaters and heavy pants his hosts were wearing, Alan felt the idiot. Crazy hemisphere, he thought. Should be properly warm in January, not this bloody cold! Two cups of coffee and a large helping of eggs and bacon later, Alan could finally start to see the humor of the situation and availed himself of his hosts’ generous offer of warm clothes. With his good humor fully restored, Alan and Harry went off to do their lobster run.
Several hours later, the sun shining brightly through a clear thin blue sky, Jenny and Kelly sat in the warm, comfortable kitchen having a mid-morning coffee break. The back door slammed abruptly open and Alan and Harry trudged in carrying a full, dripping lobster pot. Alan wore a broad smile of success on his face and a bloody bandage on his left hand. Shaking her head, Jenny stood up to make a fuss over Alan’s injury; but Kelly, much too used to seeing Alan banged up from working around the Eagles, didn’t even stop sipping his coffee.
“What happened Alan? Lobster get the better of you?” Kelly asked between sips.
In answer, Alan reached into the pot and pulled out a large, angry lobster with thrashing antennae and beady eyes looking all around on the end of their eyestalks; there were rubber bands around the claws. “This bloke here. He took a nip and almost got away, but I held on.”
“Eyah, or he held onto you, Captain. Might be wanting to visit Alpha.” Harry said with a straight face and laughter in his eyes.
“Yeah, that he will, Harry. He’s the appetizer.”
By late that day, the lobsters were carefully packed and ready for the trip back to Alpha. Alan and Kelly were back in uniform and having a last minute chat with Harry in the boat house as he prepared for their return trip to the mainland.
“Captain?” a soft, polite voice called for his attention. Alan sighed. He had given up on Jenny ever using his first name. She had been the wife of a non-commissioned service man for far to long to be comfortable with that sort of informality.
“Yes, ma'am?’ Two could play at this game, he thought.
“Do you still know a young lady named Sandra Benes?”
Now that surprised Alan. He hadn’t seen Sandra since she had left on her three month sabbatical back in early December, about five weeks ago. He wasn’t even sure where she was now. And given his upcoming trip to Mars, he very well might not see her for months yet. “Yeah, I know her.”
“Could you please take a small package up to her when you return? If it's not too much of a bother, that is.”
“Certainly.” Alan had to smile to himself. Delivering packages from the Fields to Sandra was becoming a habit, it seemed. Jenny smiled her thanks and handed him a package she had already prepared. It wasn’t large, weighing much less than a kilo, but would have cost a small fortune to post up to Moonbase Alpha as a personal, luxury item.
“Harry told me what she had sent up, that time before he finished his tour. I can imagine that it can get mighty lonely up there, unless she has a young man for company.” Jenny looked up inquisitively at Alan. When she got not even a flicker of response, she shrugged and went on. “When we knew you were coming, I made a trip into town and picked up a few items she might need.”
Alan nodded, much more wise about these things now. He had seen Sandra working on her needlework projects on and off over the past months and had even asked to see the finished ones. They were quite pretty. “More threads?”
“Eyah, and needles and fabric of different kinds. She’ll have to press it all flat again, but I imagine she’s a resourceful girl, being up on Alpha, and all.”
Alan was touched by the simple kindness of these people. “Thank you, Mrs. Fields. I’m sure she’ll be grateful.” He gave Jenny a small peck on the check to her intense, but delighted, embarrassment and turned to leave with Kelly and Harry. Jenny called him back on last time.
“Captain, here. A small note explaining where it came from, and our e-mail in case she would like to send me pictures of what she makes.”
“I think Sandra will like that.”
Two days later, the party was a smashing success. Afterwards, as Alan was packing yet again, he found the small package sent by Jenny Fields. He arranged for security to let him into Sandra’s quarters and took the package from Maine, still smelling of sea air and coastal winds, and placed it on her sofa table. He put the small note from Jenny Fields beside it and added his own message beneath….
“Sahn, How about doing one of an Eagle? You’ve got about 8 months. I’ll pick it up on my way back. Alan”
MGK