An Uncertain Thanksgiving - 1. Chapter 1

What the fuck is thanksgiving anyway? And why are the American crew members talking so much about it? It sounds like one of those commercialized opportunities that are trying to infiltrate Australia like McDonalds, Halloween, Black Friday and Baseball.

Anyway, I don’t have any time to think about that now. Right now, I’m trying to work out where the fuck we are in the universe. Slipping into hyperdrive after two standard hours at regular local earth speed made sense. It left us clear of the near Earth trade and Solar System tourist routes so hyperdrive would not interfere with other space travel. God help us if we upset the passengers on an interplanetary cruise. Those cruise companies have friends in high places.

So this is what happened. Hyperdrive was wonderful and did all it was expected to do except for one thing. It didn’t reverse and return us to regular space travel speed (as authorized by Space Traffic Control) when we wanted it to. As a result, we overshot our destination. When the Engineers decided they could not just shut down hyperdrive they shut down the whole spaceship, except for defense field, protective guidance, life support and a couple of other random functions. This does not mean that we are stationary in space. The laws of motion are, like most things, outside the control of the engineering crew, which means we are still travelling at probably near hyperdrive speed somewhere in the universe. So, you can say we are currently uncertain about both our velocity and our position.

At the moment the Bridge crew are asking me where the fuck we are. It’s interesting how formal communication breaks down under stress. When the engineering crew closed down the ship’s operational systems to stop hyperdrive it also closed down our UniNavGuy navigation system. UniNavGuy knows its stuff and has charts covering almost of the entire known universe. Every standard week, as required by anti-discrimination regulations, it alternates between a male and female automated voice. Of course, the gender of the voice is irrelevant if the system is down. As much as I try the engineers aren’t interested in restoring UniNavGuy.

The crew on the Bridge are still asking for our position. I explain that at present we are travelling too fast to get a visual fix on anything and when we slow down I’ll try old fashioned positioning using solar coordinates etc and hope we have charts for this sector of the universe that aren’t too out of date. I mean who uses those old physical and hologram charts now anyway. I admit I get frustrated and tell the Commander that he should tell the engineers to provide power to the UniNavGuy system.

He replies that the engineers had made it clear that they would get systems up and running when they were ready, and it was not up to the Commander to tell them how to do their job. I reflect that it was the engineers who got us into this mess in the first place and, that resulted in us now being, unfortunately, wherever we are in the universe. Oh well.

So here we are on the DSS Heisenberg, a Deep Space Spaceship, marooned in deep space. Now most people think of marooned as being like stuck on a desert island in the old days or stuck on a planet you can’t get off even if the location of the planet is known, but we are marooned on a spaceship that currently does not know where it is in the universe and is currently careering further into its own uncertainty.

I can’t do anything here so I may as well go to the rec area and have a drink and a snack. I enter the rec area and spot my cabin mate, Charlie, with some friends playing gravity pool. That’s where the mass of the pool balls distorts the bed of the pool table as they roll across it. Of course each pool ball has a different mass, just to make the game more challenging. I head towards him and hear some complaining. Complaining crew is nothing new but this is different.

“This is the last time I’m going on an internationally crewed vessel. These people from those other countries aren’t interested in Thanksgiving. I mean some are even ignorant enough to ask me what it is! How could you not know about Thanksgiving.”

“Unwind dude. There’s enough of us to have our own Thanksgiving dinner. We just have to talk to the head chef.”

“I did that. The entire catering crew in the Galley are Asian. They didn’t include any Turkey on their inventory. The head guy said they had plenty of duck and said we could have peeking duck, whatever that is.”

I pause and suggest, “I think he was talking about Peking Duck. It’s a specialty Chinese dish from Beijing.”

“Yeah, but it’s still not Turkey.”

I can’t disagree so I leave them and continue over to my cabin mate. Something is wrong. There’s no food available.

“What’s going on. Where’s the food?”

“There’s ice cream. The freezers are still working but the galley doesn’t have any power for cooking.”

I don’t want ice cream and settle for a warm soda.

As if things are not bad enough, what looks like the entire engineering crew loudly enter the rec area and take over.

The Chief Engineer, Randy, strides over to the serving counter, thumps the counter and loudly calls, “Hey service. We want service. Where is everyone?”

I ask, “Why aren’t you in the engine bay sorting out the hyperdrive problem?”

“Because, geek, we’re on meal break and want to eat.”

“Good luck.” I reply. “The Galley is closed because there’s no power. Would you like an ice cream?”

“No, I don’t want a fucking ice cream. Why don’t they have power?”

“I think it’s because engineering closed down their circuit.”

“Shit!” He walks away talking softly into his communicator.

I join my cabin mate, Charlie, at the pool able. We share a cabin because he’s Academy trained and is onboard as my assistant navigator. Our cabin is not like a dorm room. It’s like a small suite and conveniently close to the Navigation Bridge. Charlie isn’t all that good at navigation but once we decided to become “friends with benefits”, I’m happy with the assistance he provides.

I’m about to start a conversation when power is restored to the Galley and it fills with catering crew who start cooking meals. My communicator gives me an alert. UniNavGuy is back up. The ship’s navigation systems are on the same power circuit as the galley. Go figure.

I feel the slight shudder that signals we have dropped to standard space speed. Apparently activating the navigation stroke galley circuit triggered the hyperdrive reverse thrust. I wonder if we will survive this engineering crew.

I run upstairs to the Navigation Bridge because, as you guessed, the lifts aren’t working. UniNavGuy is actively working on our position but with an unexpected camp persona. “Oh sweetie, you’re back. What can I come up with for you?”

I try to ignore the innuendo. “Do you have any idea where we are.”

“Oh you are sooo booring, daarling. Always the same. Where are we? Set course for. How about something exciting like what aaare you wearing to the next pride ball?”

“I hate to point this out but you’re a navigation system. Your job on this spaceship is to set courses and tell us where we are.”

“Oh tetchy aren’t we! You need to learn to relax sweetie. How about a hug?”

“How about you tell me where we are.”

“I’m not sure you want to know.”

“Of course, I fucking want to know and so do the rest of the crew.”

“Owoo, cool it sweetie. Watch the language.”

I try to stay focused. “Do you know where we are?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Remember, I warned you. . . . . The answer is ‘yes’ and ‘no’.”

“What the fuck does that mean.”

“Oh! Such language darling! I’ve already warned you once. Next time it’ll be a spanking.”

“Sorry.” Why am I apologizing to a computer? “What do you mean by ‘yes’ and ‘no’?”

“I can give you the space coordinates, but I don’t have any charts for this sector of the universe. I can tell you where we are but not what’s around us.”

I sigh. “You mean it’s like we’re somewhere in the Pacific Ocean and know our latitude and longitude but have no idea if we are near an island or a continent or even a reef.”

“Oh sweetie, you got it in one.”

“Just print the coordinates for me and I’ll use my collection of old charts to find what’s here.”

“You’re really going to use those old physical charts?”

“Yes, if I have to.”

“Well hunky, just for you, I’ll print out the coordinates but then I’m going to sulk.”

“Thanks.”

"Aren’t you going to comfort me?”

I’m trying to decide what charts I’ll need. “What! Oh sorry of course. You know I love you and what you do for me.”

“Promise you won’t cheat on me.”

Am I really having this conversation? “OK I promise.”

“Oh honey, I think I’m blushing. Let me know when you’re finished with those old tarts and want to come back to me.”

“They’re old charts, not tarts.”

“Whatever darling. I need my beauty sleep. Bye bye.”

“I read the coordinates and rifle through my collection of old charts. I get a lot of shit about keeping old charts, but then back home I also have a huge collection of old 16th to 18th century maps of earth.

I pull out the hologram chart I need, activate it and look at the display and compare it with what is still on screen. I understand where we are and why. TransUniverse built a hyperspace bypass through this sector. While we were having propulsion problems we overshot our destination and then slipped off the bypass and ended up in this neglected sector.

I’m interrupted by the Commander on the Bridge. “Can you tell us where we are, because we don’t have a fucking clue.” UniNavGuy stirs but quickly returns to sulking.

“Yeah I’ve got our position.”

“Fantastic. Are there any local planets where we can dock, evaluate our status and undertake remedial procedures.”

“Do you mean fix the fucking problem?”

“Yes, but I can’t write that in the official ship’s log.”

I scan my hologram chart and there is a small planet. I log its name and search old copies of the ‘The Lonely Universe’. Yes, I have old copies of those too.

I press ‘Bridge’ on my communicator. “Commander, we’re not far from a small planet called Denny’s®.”

The commander interrupts. “Seriously! Like the restaurant chain? Are you shitting me?”

I continue, “Seriously, it’s called Denny’s® and apparently the whole planet is not only named after the restaurant chain but owned by it. I did some checking and before the bypass was built it was a popular stop for cargo vessels. They could dock, refuel, eat and rest. Like old truck stops on earth. Since the bypass was completed, they only get local traffic dropping in.”

“Sounds good enough for us. Set a course for us.”

“I’ll get back to you in a minute.”

I manually enter the coordinates for Denny’s® and asked UniNavGuy to plot the course.

“You’re still no fun. I suppose you want me to send the course setting to the Bridge as well.” Obviously still sulking.

“That will help and the Commander will love you.”

“Are you trying to set me up with someone else?”

“No. Send the course settings and go back to sleep. I’ll wake you if I need you.”

UniNavGuy pouts but sends the setting. I know because I feel us turn. My screens confirm we are heading for Denny’s®. I walk up to the Bridge because it is the best place to watch the approach to a planet, and in this case a planet I have never visited. I suspect that is true for most of the crew.

I watch the displays showing us approaching the planet until it is close enough to view through the wide view ports on the bridge. In size and colour it looks like a small earth. The most obvious differences are the size of the planet and the very different arrangement of oceans and continents.

I’m lost in looking at this planet and thinking how beautiful it looks when I hear Denny’s® Local Area Space Control asking why we are entering their control space.

Our Commander responds with a request to dock and carry out maintenance. We wait for a response. First is acknowledgement that our ID, personnel and cargo transponders are cleared and we have permission to dock.

This involves transfer to Planet Approach Control to guide us to our dock.

Planet Approach Control guide us through the various way points on the way to our allocated dock. I’m still on the bridge watching through the ports and on the screens.

There is nothing, apart from sex, as exhilarating as watching the approach to a planet I’ve never been to before. In this case, this planet is new to all on board. We reach the first way point and I scan the sensors. Planet about half the size of Earth. Atmosphere and climate similar to Earth. Inhabitants predominately humanoid and of those the largest majority are of Earth origin. The planet grows in the view ports. Similar blue, white and green to earth. I’m feeling comfortable about this planet.

We reach the last way point near the capital city and change over to Port Control who guide us to our allocated dock. I feel the excitement on board as the crew prepare for some planet leave.

I walk back to the Navigation Bridge and start to get ready. I plan to join the crew going on planet. UniNavGuy wakes up and this time, for reasons I certainly don’t understand, it has the persona of a strict Nanny. “And, where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m using some leave to go on planet.”

“Well I’m not happy about you going out there. How do I know you’re going to be safe? There could be all sorts of dangers.”

“Hey, I’m an adult. I’m twenty five, almost twenty six and fit. I can look after myself.”

“There you go. Thinking you’re all grown up and don’t have to listen or take any notice of me anymore.”

Why isn’t it still the gay persona? At least there’s a chance he would wish me luck at finding a hot, horny, hung hunk in some bar.

I hope to end this and get away. “I do listen to you. I promise I’ll be careful.”

“I suppose that will have to do. You were always wilful.”

I roll my eyes.

“Now promise you’ll keep your communicator with you.”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll call when you get into trouble.”

I try to correct her, “IF I get into trouble, I’ll call.”

“And you’ll stay in the safe areas.”

“Yes.”

“And you won’t go anywhere by yourself.”

I sigh, “OK.”

“And don’t talk to any strangers.”

“What!”

“Don’t get stroppy with me young man. Don’t talk to strangers. You don’t know where they’ve been.”

“How can I do that? Everyone on this planet is a stranger to me. How can I get a meal or a drink or buy anything without talking to a stranger.”

“Oh well I suppose that will be OK but you still need to be careful you don’t get ripped off. You’re very gullible and remember you won’t have me there to watch out for you, my little precious.”

For the first time since this conversation started, I feel relieved. I won’t have UniNavGuy with me.

“OK, I’ll be careful.”

“Are you wearing clean underpants?”

“What! Why?”

“What if you are involved in an accident. You don’t want the medics to see you wearing dirty underpants. Oh my God, you’re not going commando, are you?”

I roll my eyes again. “No, and yes I’m wearing clean underwear.”

I really need to end this. “We’re docked now so I’ll heading off. You can go back to sleep.”

“Sleep! You expect me to be able to sleep? You’ll be out there doing whatever and facing all sorts of trouble. I won’t be able to sleep until I know you’re safely back on board.”

I groan. “See you later. Love you. Bye.”

“Love you too, Dear.”

Wearing my backpack, I walk into immigration arrivals and join the queue. It’s moving quickly as the scanners read our embedded ID chips and clear each crew member for entry. I reach the scanner and . . . . and there’s a question over my clearance. I’m wondering “What the hell” when I’m approached by a large guy in a uniform that clearly says he’s official.

He takes me to one side and asks, “What’s the problem?” And looks at me as if I have the answer.

I look at him and state the obvious, “There seems to be a problem reading my universal ID chip.”

He looks at me, “Yeah I can see that.” He uses another scanner. He pauses and reads his screen. “Have you been here before?”

“No. Never.”

“Hmmm.” He taps something on his screen and reads the response. “Interesting. You’re from Austria.”

It wasn’t a question, but I correct him anyway. “Australia.”

He looks up from his screen. “Whatever. You’re cleared to enter. Enjoy your visit.”

I exit the spaceport and realize I have no idea where to go. I don’t have to think much as I’m grabbed by some fellow crew and dragged onto a mini shuttle. “Come on. Join us for some fun.”

I look around as the others disembark. We are in the middle of a brothel area. The heterosexual brothel area. The driver notices my hesitation. “Not your scene?” He motions ahead. “The boys are just down the road.”

It’s tempting and I try to remember where it is in case I need to come back, but right now the navigator in me says I want to have a look around and get my bearings. “Maybe later. For now I’d just like to have a look around and maybe try the local food and grog.”

“OK. I’ll drop you off closer into the city. There’s plenty of Denny’s® restaurants and you can also get Denny’s® in most of the bars.”

“Are there any other restaurants or cafes or diners? You know like Chinese or Mexican.” I see the look on his face. “Just asking.”

“Nope. It’s all Denny’s®. But some specialize more than others.”

He drops me at a bar. It’s a bit noisy and more crowded than I expect at this hour. That is by my body clock. I have no idea what this hour is here on this planet. I check my communicator screen. OK it’s late afternoon and obviously people are enjoying an after work drink. As I move further in I notice it’s “happy hour” with reduced price drinks. I squeeze my way to the bar to order a drink. I’m not sure and the barman doesn’t care so I end up with a mixed drink of unknown contents and unknown effects. At least it won’t be a pangalactic gaggle blaster as they have been banned across the known universe.

I look around but don’t see anyone I know. I can hear the engineering crew and decide to avoid them. The drink is pleasant. It’s full of flavour and moderately hallucinogenic. I finish and decide one is enough.

I walk outside and across the street I see three Denny’s® restaurants. I shake my head. No I’m not hallucinating. Anyway, I choose the centre one and inside I see a familiar face. Rowan, the Load Master, is sitting in a booth by himself and scrolling through his communicator.

“Hi Rowan. Mind if I join you?”

He looks up. “Oh Titus, Hi. Yes, please join me. I was just checking the ship’s manifest.”

A waitstaff arrives with Rowan’s drink. It’s beer so I order one and some food. We start to chat about the predicament we’re all in. Three more crew members arrive and join us. I recognize them as the ones who are especially keen to celebrate Thanksgiving.

They are still grumbling about not being able to “properly” celebrate Thanksgiving onboard because of the absence of turkey. We are interrupted by the arrival of the engineering crew. Are they stalking me? They are giggling and having difficulty finding booths to sit in. I wonder what they were drinking. What looks like the manager corrals them into a booth opposite us.

The waitstaff arrives with my beer and starts taking orders from the three new arrivals. They all order beer and Turkey Club Sandwiches.

“I’m sorry sir, we don’t have any turkey.”

The three of them look at each other in total disbelief.

“The ship doesn’t have any turkey and now you’re telling us you don’t have any turkey either.”

I’m sorry sir but yes, we have no turkey.”

“What about the other Denny’s®? Do they have turkey?”

“I’m so sorry sir, they don’t have turkey either.”

The manager has settled the engineers and comes over to see what our problem is. He overheard the question about the availability of turkey.

“Bohdi is correct sir. There is no real turkey on Denny’s®. We can offer you plant based turkey.”

“What’s plant based turkey?”

“It’s a processed mix of soy, lentils and chickpeas, with turkey flavouring, formed into a roll and cooked. I’m told it’s nice.”

“Have you tried it?”

“No. I said I’ve been told it’s nice.”

“How come there’s no turkey on Denny’s®?”

“Sad story. Three Thanksgivings ago we were celebrating fifty years on Planet Denny’s®. Some of the chefs got carried away and before we realized it all the turkeys had been killed for Thanksgiving. The turkeys were stuffed for Thanksgiving Dinner but it left us stuffed for the following Thanksgiving holidays.”

“Can’t you just import some?”

“Where from? None of the local planets have turkeys to bred and ships from earth don’t call in here anymore.”

Our three companions all moan about the unfairness of the universe in marooning them without turkey for Thanksgiving.

Rowan looks at his communicator and calls across to the engineers. “Hey Randy.” He also waves to attract his attention.

“Yeah nerd, what do you want?” I notice it is a bit slurred.

“How long will it take to fix the Heisenberg?”

“Fix it?” he slurs. “There’s nothing wrong with it. We had it working perfectly.” I disagree but don’t say so. He continues, “It’s those con men who convinced the Commander that they needed to return the ship’s systems to factory settings and then rebuild the updates. It’s going to take us months to get everything back to how we want it.”

Rowan is patient. “How long’s it going to take?”

“It’s uncertain. They reckon five standard days.” He went back to his drink.

Rowan looks at the four of us. “That means we’re marooned here for Thanksgiving.” He seems really upmarket about it. I don’t understand why. Everyone else seems to hate the idea.

He asks me to move so he can go and make a call. I point out his meal has just arrived. “You eat it. I’ll eat yours when it arrives.”

One of the guys asks, “What’s with him?” I shrug. I don’t know any more than they do. I start eating his meal.

He arrives back at the booth and looks around. “Where’s that manager guy?”

A waitstaff puts my, now Rowan’s, meal on the table. “I’ll get him for you sir.”

Rowan sits and starts to eat. It’s not long before the manager is at our table.

“How can I help you? Is there a problem with the food?”

“No. Well I don’t think so. It’s just that we might be able to help you. We have a consignment of frozen turkeys on board. We’re stuck here for maintenance so they are not going to be delivered to their destination in time for Thanksgiving. If you’re interested the Commander is prepared to sell them to you at cost.”

‘How many?”

“Four containers.”

“Let me call the Planet Manager.” He practically runs off.

Three more meals arrive so we’re all eating.

“So, there’s a chance we’ll all have Thanksgiving dinner with turkey after all. There’s not much time. Thanksgiving is the day after tomorrow?”

Rowan nods.

A very excited manager returns. “The Planet Manager said she’ll call your Commander immediately. I’ve never heard her so excited, apart from the time she got her divorce.”

We all continue eating, but the mood is now a lot more cheerful than when we started. Rowan leans close to me and whispers, “I didn’t say anything but there’s another consignment on board that could make a lot of money for the Commander and possibly us.” I look at him, hoping he will say more but he doesn’t.

Meal finished and we are ready to leave. The five of us settle the bill and the tip. I glance across at the engineers. They are all asleep. I wonder again what they were drinking and how much. I decide I’d be more careful about what I drink in future.

Rowan receives a message and says he has to return to the Heisenberg to oversee the unloading of the turkeys. He asks if I’m going back to the ship. I tell him I’ll continue looking around before going back. He suggests we catch up later.

I think about going back to the Red Light District and find a boy but decide against it. I decide to just wander around and check the place out. The three lads decide to look for a bar with a DJ. They want to drink, dance, have fun and maybe some sex.

Back on board I meet up with Rowan in the rec area. We have a beer each.

“How’d the unloading go?”

“Bloody quickly. I’ve never seen a shipment unloaded and cleared customs as quickly. As soon as the customs guys were told that it was frozen turkey for Denny’s® they cleared it immediately without any questions. Even asked if they could help.”

“So what is Thanksgiving and why is having turkey so important?” I ask naively.

Rowan is speechless. He eyes me suspiciously as he has another swig of his beer. “You really don’t know?”

“No I don’t.”

“Don’t you have Thanksgiving in Austria?”

I sigh. “Australia. And, no we don’t.”

“What’s wrong with you people. You should get with it. Thanksgiving is the fucking best holiday time ever. All the family gets together and we have Thanksgiving Dinner where we all pig out on the greatest food, especially turkey and pumpkin pie, and probably drink more than we should but, it’s just the best time and the most whole family fun in the whole year.” His eyes glaze over, and he looks wistful.

I comment, “I think if I got my whole family together for a day of food and grog, it’d end up with a few arguments.”

He grins, “Yeah, that can happen too.”

“But what’s with the turkey. Why the emphasis on turkey?”

“Don’t they teach you any history in Austria . . . . . or Australia?”

I smile. I like Rowan. “Apparently not. How about you tell me.”

He smiles, “Get me another beer and I’ll explain.”

I get us another two beers and he explains. I’m beginning to understand.

TBC