Orbiters

Game On

…You can’t get to the bottom of book sales. I dare you to try. For instance, my library lists about 15 new novel titles per month. Yet industry sources say the average library buys 500 new novel titles per month. What is it? 15 or 500?

This type of discrepancy is found everywhere in publishing, with wild disagreement among all concerned. What purpose this serves is unclear. I can’t get to the bottom of that, either.

What the heck. Let’s not worry about it, and onward to Orbiters, with sales in the millions. Hey, two can play at that game…

Malthusians invented pool. Or billiards, as they called it. They even secretly introduced the game to Earth.

What pastime could be better? Slow moving, reflective, skill-based, billiards would allow Earthlings to meet peacefully, teaching them to resolve conflicts in a healthy way. A smart thing to do. But a dumb thing when it comes to Earth. Pool tables found their way into every saloon, strip club, barracks, and rooming house. In no time Earthlings were breaking pool sticks over each other’s heads.

Well, we tried, Malthusians said.

Megan Bremer racked pool balls in Spaceship One’s recreation hall. Her friend, Lt. Tate, stood chalking a cue. They had been discussing Captain Rollhagen. When you are around Lt. Tate, you are discussing Captain Rollhagen.

Megan snugged pool balls into the triangle and looked up. “Want to make it interesting?” she said.

“In what way?” Tate had the relaxed, innocent demeanor of the about-to-be fleeced.

“A little wager.”

“How little?”

“How about,” Megan said. “You lose, you kiss Captain Rollhagen.”

“My goodness!” Tate said. “How would I do that?”

“Like this.” She seized the girl and gave her a resounding smack. A pool cue clattered to the table. Several officers looked up.

Jennifer Tate rubbed her mouth. “You’re fast,” she said.

“I’m no tortoise.” Megan handed her the stick. “So whaddaya say? Is it a bet?” Malthusians are taught never to back down. Jennifer really had no choice.

A game of eight-ball takes five minutes. This one took half an hour. Crew members abandoned their own games to watch. They had no idea what was at stake, but knew a good contest when they saw one. Jennifer scattered the break, taking the six ball. She surveyed the table, computing like Einstein. Then carefully, very carefully tapped in the one. Then the two, an easy make. The draw left her just a shade blocked. After studying every possible alternative, she missed a bank shot.

Megan circled the table. She wanted this game, and not just for Jennifer’s sake. Goodness knows the woman needed a little somethin’. But she had ulterior motives, so to speak. With her best friend in the arms of the captain, there was no telling what Megan might accomplish. She may even be invited onto the landing party, and find herself among the first invaders!

Megan’s family owned a pool table, back on Earth, and she had played the game continuously since the age of eight. She’d show this space-girl a thing or two.

She missed her opening shot.

Then Jennifer missed an easy one. Maybe a shrink could figure that one out. “Your shot, Meggie.”

Megan carefully, with terrible deliberation, sank the next four balls. Then flubbed a gimmee.

This was it. Only the eight-ball remained. Jen-Jen held her breath, lining it up. The thought of losing, and having to kiss the handsome captain, made her head swim. She closed her eyes and shot. Traveling the length of the table the eight ball bounced once, twice off the corner pocket.

Then dropped in.

A cheer went up.

“Oh, well,” Megan said. “I guess you won. If you can call it that.”

“Better luck next time.” Jennifer Tate exhaled, long and slow. Then unscrewed her stick.

And there would be a next time. Of that Megan was sure. Perhaps the handsome captain would receive a scented note. Anonymously, of course. But the perfume would be unmistakable. Or he might find Ms. Tate at his door late one night, after she received an invitation. What, Captain? Didn’t you send for me?

Megan was a true-blue member of the Space Corp. But she is also an Earthling. And as everyone from here to Neptune can tell you, Earthlings don’t like to lose.