Orbiters

Murder Most Heinous

Lt. Commander Kern had a way of being everywhere. And nowhere, at the same time. An explanation is in order. If you wished to hide, Kern would find you. And if you looked for him, he vanished.

All this made crewmembers nervous. They took to glancing up and down hallways before entering a room and locking the door. Only to turn and find the commander sitting there, a smug grin on his face.

Lt. Tate jumped. She sat in the ship’s library with a notebook and pen. Kern had materialized from nowhere.

“What’s that?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” she said. She closed the notebook.

“It doesn’t look like nothing. Let me see.”

“Please, Mr. Kern. It’s private.” That was the wrong thing to say. After a few useless objections, she handed it over.

“Murder Most Heinous,” Kern read aloud. He looked at her carefully. “Ms. Tate, are you planning to kill someone?” He had good reason for worry. If anyone aboard Spaceship One would be murdered, it would be him.

“Of course not.”

“Then what is this?”

“If you must know, I’m writing a mystery novel.”

Again, the wrong thing to say. Kern was an avid reader. “Why a mystery?”

“I’ve been reading Earth novels.”

“I see.”

“They aren’t like Moon novels, all rainbows and happy endings. Earth novels are exciting. So I’m writing my own.”

Kern paged rapidly through the notebook. “Hmm,” he said. “This is quite good.”

“Thank you,” Tate replied, uneasily.

“However, this detective. Llewellyn Moxy?”

“He’s the hero.”

“Indeed. I see you describe him as blond and short.”

“Yes.”

“I think he should be tall and skinny.” Kern was tall and skinny. “With slick black hair.” Kern had slick black hair.

“I see.”

“And he should be a sharp dresser, but only because regulations require it. He will want what’s best for his fellow officers. Yet often be misunderstood. A character needs layers, Ms. Tate. Complexity.”

“Okay.”

“I see Detective Moxy solving the crime and getting the girl. But only after overcoming inner conflicts, many inner conflicts. Do I make sense?” He handed the notebook back.

“Absolutely, Mr. Kern.”

“Let’s leave it at that. But I’ll be very interested in reading more. Carry on, Lieutenant.” Kern walked out. He always walked with quick, small steps, very erect, as though supporting a glass on top of his head.

Jennifer Tate began to write. She had been significantly blocked. Now words flew off her pen. More comic than heroic, she knew exactly what her Detective Moxy would react, and what he would say. It was as though he stood there, right in front of her.