Orbiters
Canoodle
What, she asked, did he mean by that?
…Writers need confidence. Even arrogance. I know a writer who wears a cape and goes around telling people he’s the greatest playwright since Molière. Whoever Molière is.
I got no problem with this. If you’re going to write, write better than everyone else. Write better than your favorite author, no matter how famous. Why not? What’s the use of writing if you are only adding to what’s already been done? Maybe my favorite quote ever:
“You are always your own favorite writer.” —Jack Kerouac
For those Malthusians who have joined Space Corps, duty reigns supreme. Flirting is discouraged. Even handshakes and hugs are frowned upon. And that was back on the Moon. You can imagine how buttoned-down they are on a battleship.
Crew knew they were being watched, and continually. That was all they needed. Much of the fun of illicit romance is the illicit part.
Commander Kern, junior only to the captain, was furious. He marched into the Human Resource office. Two officers sat laughing over one thing or another. Kern cleared his throat. It didn’t help that both women were tall, horsey-looking brunettes. Rather his type.
“Oh, Kenneth! We didn’t see you.”
“It seems no one does.”
Shelly Garcia, the HR chief, smiled her toothy smile. What, she asked, did he mean by that?
“I just discovered two of our enlisted corps flagrantly violating Space Order 14.”
“What the heck is that?” asked Moira Fox, the benefits manager.
Kern’s arching black eyebrows, which he possibly plucked, arched some more. “You don’t know?”
“Frankly Mr. Kern, I do not.”
Kern produced a sheet. “Space Order 14. And I quote. No crewmember of any rank shall Touch, Kiss, or otherwise Canoodle with another.”
A titter went up from the women.
“Is there something funny?”
“Of course not.” Garcia was having trouble keeping a straight face. “It’s just a little extreme.”
“There is nothing extreme about regulations!”
“I suppose not.”
Lt. Fox spoke up. “How are we defining canoodle?”
Garcia covered her mouth and snorted.
“Canoodle,” Kern cleared his throat. “Is a specific term for what is becoming increasingly common, and may I say disgraceful behavior. Do you want me to draw a picture?”
“Please do.”
“I will not! And if I can get no help from this department, I’ll have to patrol the crew members myself. As though I don’t have enough to do.”
“We’re sorry, Mr. Kern.” Shelly Garcia had regained a modicum of composure. “We’ll see about issuing a memo, or something like that. In the meantime, did you resolve the issue with the two, um, canoodlers?”
“I most certainly did. I sent them to their quarters.”
“Who’s quarters?” Garcia asked. Both she and Fox were laughing again.
Kern departed, and quickly. The commander was immensely displeased. He spent his whole life achieving a high level of authority. And yet, before these two women, he felt as ever, utterly powerless.