"Martin Cropper, this is going to be the biggest disaster since Ishtar."

"Excuse me, Mr. Cropper?" The drop-dead flight attendant paused beside my couch.. She grabbed the take-hold strap, smiling like she really didn’t mind the acceleration. "Are you all right?"

"I’m fine," I mumbled. "Just thinking out loud. Sorry."

"Can I get you anything? Water? Another Dramamine?"

"Not unless I can have it with a cyanide chaser."

She laughed. A little. "Don’t worry. Well be docking with Valhalla Station in a few hours."

"Thanks." I put on my bravest face. I didn’t feel brave. Just space-sick. Space sick and scared. My career, such as it was, was on the line. She disappeared to check on the other passengers, leaving me to my misery. Resigned, I put my monitor back on and booted up the contract. If I was going to feel rotten, I might as well have a good reason. The heavy glasses pinched my nose, lines of blurry print jumping in and out of view, jittering and faded.

Damn it. The batteries were dying. Again. My first ex-wife was right. I should have stuck to accounting.

#

Free-fall.

I thought I couldn’t be any sicker. I was wrong. I was still strapped to

the couch, but my stomach felt free to roam. Fortunately, I hadn’t been able to eat anything for three days, or that would have been roaming too. I squeezed my eyes shut, concentrating on the pitch to my erstwhile client, one Victoria Moline, instead of my volatile stomach.

Valhalla Station. The farthest outpost of humanity. NASAs proudest achievement, zipping around the sun at nearly half the speed of light. They had found a way to tap the quantum foam to accelerate mass, but they couldn’t make it pay. It took the studio bosses to do that.

Okay, Marty-boy, I told myself. Lets see what we’ve got. The way I figured, I had three choices. The Smooth Approach...

Listen, Vicki, sweetie. This script has Oscar all over it.

Unfortunately, Id read the script. Not even Victoria Moline was that

desperate. Approach number two, the Subtle Tact... Vicki, I’m just

your agent. I cant tell you what to do. All I know is, Naomi Crawford

was interested in the part. Very interested. And don’t worry, your little

scene at the Golden Globes is ancient history.

Wouldn’t work. Vicki was long on looks, short on subtle. That only left choice number three...

Vicki, truth is, the studio is tired of paying your way up here. If you’re willing to sign on this picture, they’re willing to give you one more shot. Otherwise, lets hope you’ve got credit, cause you’ll need it to get home.

A gentle bump rocked the cabin. Ladies and gentleman, please remain seated until docking is complete. Well be off-loading in few minutes.

I sighed, grateful that at least gravity was returning. You take your blessings where you find them.

#

Valhalla Station is big. It has to be to stay in orbit. It was also nearly

empty. After all, besides a few astronomers, who wants to spend six

months at a time surrounded by nothing but nothing? Especially when

every day spent up here meant nearly a week went by at home thanks

to time dilation. Only the twisted mind of a studio exec could concoct

a way to use the effect to their advantage. Have a diva with a string of

bombs? Send her to Valhalla. The public forgets the flops and she comes home four years later but only six months older. Got an actor with a substance problem? What better place than the edge of the Solar System to get clean while the statutes of limitation run out.

Customs took longer than Id remembered, stopping just this side of

strip searches. They took smuggling seriously up here, God knows

why. By the time I finally was cleared through the airlock it was after

five Valhalla time. I stood on the gently curving deck, squinting in the

electric glare. Everywhere people in dark, cowled robes were strolling about, chanting and shaking tambourines.

Feeling better, Mr. Cropper?

I turned around. The flight attendant from the shuttle stood beside me,

her carry-on slung over her shoulder. She was even prettier in the holo-cloth sarong than shed been in her uniform. What’s with all the monks? I asked.

She laughed. Been a while since you were up here?

Yeah, I guess so.

Those, she nodded at the drifting herds of black robes. Are acolytes from the Church of Universal Truth. They leased Bravo Deck when Playboy-Disney gave up the space. She started to walk away. Will we see you on the return flight?

I sure hope so. I headed toward the concourse, desperately hoping someone was at the information desk. I wanted to find Vicki and get our business settled. Something about the wandering swarm of acolytes made me nervous. A trio of them sauntered past, blank smiles beaming. They made my skin crawl.

The desk was, unfortunately, abandoned, the screen saver on the terminal flashing a cheerful, Back in Ten Minutes. I pressed my thumb against the auto-search.

How can I help you? the computer asked, the synthesized voice so pathetic I could barely understand it. Leave it to NASA to go for the cheap.

Can you tell me where Victoria Molines berth is?

How can I help you? the idiot machine asked again.

I said, where is Vicki Moline?

Right behind you, Marty.

I spun around. There she stood, in all her platinum-haired glory. I almost had a coronary. She was draped head to lovely toes in a black, cowled robe.

#

Vicki, do you mind explaining what the hell is going on? We had walked across the wide main deck, me asking questions, her ignoring them.

She paused to touch fingertips with another acolyte. Goo-do pah clu, she chanted.

Goo-do pah too, the man answered, bowing slightly before moving on.

I grabbed her sleeve. What language is that supposed to be?

The language of universal love, Marty.

Vicki...

Shhh. She bowed deeply, her forehead nearly touching the floor as a large entourage of blackrobes walked past, a tiny woman in a crimson shawl huddled near the center. A tall acolyte, his own cowl tossed rakishly back to reveal styled hair and capped teeth, nodded in our direction. Vicki waited until they had passed. That was our founder, Ma Goo-do, herself. She has taken a vow of silence.

I don’t blame her. Now, would you please tell me what’s going on? If this is your way of getting a better deal, it isn’t working.

She only smiled and started walking again. I followed her into a nearby cafeteria and sat down. A female acolyte set two bowls of plain oatmeal in front of us. Enjoy life’s bounty, she said without a trace of emotion.

Goo-do pah too. Vicki took a bite of the lukewarm gruel. Aren’t you hungry?

Not even close. I shoved the bowl aside. Now, for the last time, what’s going on? Did you even read the script I faxed up?

She nodded. Yes. It was awful.

Well, of course it was awful, I admitted. But this... I waved an arm around. This is going a little far, don’t you think?

She sighed. Marty, you and I have known each other a long time, and I've always thought of you as more than just my agent.

Well... I blushed a little.

I’ve always thought of you as one damn fine accountant. She smiled.

How’s my portfolio doing?

Not bad, I stammered, off-guard.

But not good either, right? She took another bite, chewing languidly.

Do you know who these people around me are?

Your brothers and sisters?

She shook her head. They’re morons. She smiled. Very wealthy morons, most of them. Know how much Ma Goo-do is worth? Low end, eighty million.

I was starting to understand.

Look, Marty, we both know I’m a lousy actress. But I can see opportunity when it passes by. Ma Goo-do and her entourage had entered the cafeteria. Vicki nodded in their direction. The tall one with the teeth? That’s brother Algae Bloom. His real names Steve Lattner, ex-broker. He’s the real brains behind the church.

My heart skipped a beat. And you’re sleeping with him!

Marty, please. Give me some credit. Her eyes gleamed with a wolfen light. I caught him romping with a couple of underage incense bearers. Her smile deepened. Now, listen very carefully. Here’s what were going to do...

#

The meeting took place inside the inner sanctum, deep behind the bulk storage tanks on B-deck. I sniffed the humid air. Sandalwood and leather and something else. How the hell did they freight a Jacuzzi up here?

Marty, shut up. Vicki bowed to the floor as Ma Goo-do and Brother Algae Bloom stepped inside. He helped the small woman into an ornate wooden chair. Vicki raised up. Blessings and bounties, upon you.

And upon you, Brother Bloom replied. He stared at me, just long enough to show he wouldn’t be intimidated. You have a problem of the soul, my child?

Vicki nodded. This is Martin Cropper. He brings us urgent news.

Distressing news.

Go on.

Its about the Church’s financial situation, Vicki said. Rumors are circulating.

The Securities Exchange Commission is getting... curious. I added.

Word is they’re talking about freezing assets.

They what? Ma Goo-do shrieked.

Vow of silence, I whispered. Vicki elbowed me in the ribs.

Rumors are fodder for weak minds, Algae Bloom said.

Yet, before them we all stand naked and ashamed. Vicki glanced discreetly at a small incense burner, then back at Bloom. His face paled as he caught her meaning. She paused for effect. Maybe Vicki was a better actress than I had given her credit. Of course, we leave the decision to you.

What are we going to do? Ma Goo-do was out of her seat, pacing like a caged animal. You told me the funds were secure. You promised me it was legal.

Maybe, I said, very softly. I can be of some assistance?

Algae Bloom glared at Vicki. She smiled sweet as honey. Perhaps, he said, biting down on his anger. Perhaps, heavenly Ma, we should listen to what they have to say.

#

By the time it was over the Church of Universal Truth had a new financial

officer, me, and I had a new spiritual advisor, one Victoria Moline, late of Hollywood and beyond.

Ma Goo-do herself

saw us aboard the shuttle the next day, silent once more, surrounded by

acolytes. Brother Algae

Bloom, for some reason, didn’t stop by. We climbed aboard the little ship

and settled into the

narrow cabin. The flight attendant from the trip up noticed me.

Well, I see you made it, Mr. Cropper, she said. Hope you have a better flight home.

I glanced across the aisle at Vicki. She peeked over the top of her

Variety

and winked. I turned

back to the flight attendant. Oh, I’m sure I will.

The End