by Ward Wagher
"Aye, aye., Sir. I have the conn."
"Call me, please, fifteen minutes before FTL.”
" Aye, aye., Sir."
Franklin walked into the captain's ready room and slid into the chair behind the desk. He keyed the terminal and displayed a three-dimensional representation of the planet Victor. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs as he gazed at the planetary map.
"What in the universe do I do next?" He murmured quietly to himself.
The Executive Officer, Lieutenant Daphne Locke, stood in a corner of the magazine and watched as a work crew wrestled the five ton missile into its carriage. She held her hands clasped behind her back, and she hoped no one would see how hard she was squeezing them together.
"Spacek!" One of the chiefs yelled. "If your goal is to have your remains scraped up from the floor you are certainly going about it in the right way. And..." he hesitated for a minute. "All right, let's just hold it right there, people!"
The chief stomped over to the center of the room and put his hands on his hips. "Once again, people, with the grav collars on the missiles they don't weigh anything. But, they still have five tons of mass. Spacek, what's the first safety rule for moving cargo with grav collars?"
"Uhhh, never be between the angular momentum of the cargo and a fixed obstruction, Chief."
"And why is that, Spacek?"
"Because, if something goes wrong I could be injured?"
"Because, if something goes wrong, you could be dead," the chief corrected. "Okay, people. Let's try this again. And pay attention this time!"
The chief stepped back from the work crew and carefully observed as they eased the missile into the cradle. "Okay, let's head back for another one."
The work party left the magazine on their way back to the cargo hold. The chief stepped over to Daphne. "Exec, I would like to detail this work party to extra safety training. I figure we can take an extra watch for this, and if they miss a little sleep, too bad."
"A good idea, Chief. Please see to it."
The Chief braced to attention, then walked out of the compartment to catch up with the work crew.
Daphne visibly relaxed. She carefully examined her hands, noting the white skin where she had gripped them together tightly. She turned to the missile tech, who was working at the terminal in the other corner. "How are the birds looking, Dodge?"
"So far, very good, ma'am. I am not familiar with this manufacturer, but the quality is better than anything I ever saw in the Navy."
"Very good, then. If you see anything questionable, I need to know about it immediately."
"Aye, aye, ma'am.”
# # #
"We have our weapons load out. We've got another extended voyage to get us to Victor. That means there is time for additional training, which, I think we all agree, is badly needed. All we need now is a plan to locate and retrieve the Foxworths." Franklin looked around the small dining cabin at the assembled officers.
The executive officer, Lieutenant Locke, sat at the opposite end of the table from Franklin. Louie stood at one side of the table. Lieutenant Simmons sat on the other side.
Signe sat next to Simmons.
"So, you are saying you don't have a plan?" Daphne said.
Franklin tipped his head. "That's what I am saying."
Daphne sighed, but barely managed to avoid rolling her eyes. "Do you have any ideas, Sir?"
"I have a few. But, I really wanted to see what the team in this room could come up with. I recognize I have no particular experience in this kind of operation. I am willing to borrow whatever brains I need to get it done.”
"A thought bubbles to mind," Louie said.
"Do tell," Franklin said.
"Large group of Woogies on Victor," the pink alien said. "Usually well informed. Louie goes to visit, gets information."
"Will the other Woogies trust you?" Simmons asked.
"Most likely. Most likely. Some will know Louie. Louie ran hotel there before moving to Hepplewhite."
"That sounds too easy," Daphne said.
"What could possibly go wrong?" Franklin said.
Daphne rested her head in her hands.
"The Woogie cool."
"What's that mean?" Simmons asked.
"It means he is fine with it," Franklin said.
"Risk is low," Louie said. "Humans cannot tell one Woogie from another."
"I can," Daphne said. "You've got that rather unique vocoder."
"Voicebox will stay on board ship. When not be needed to talk to other Woogies."
"And then what?" Daphne asked.
"Woogie talk to Woogies," Louie said.
"No, I mean after you find out where the Foxworths are."
"Captain Franklin takes action." Louie wiggled his tentacles in the air triumphantly.
Daphne did roll her eyes this time. "Here we go again."
"No, no," Franklin chuckled. "Once Louie gets the information we’ll all sit down and figure our next move. Believe it or not, I do not want to charge in half cocked. We would just get a bunch of people killed. You don't believe me."
Daphne was shaking her head as Franklin spoke. "I suggest we do it this way, Skipper. Louie comes back with information and we sit down and talk about it."
"But, that's what I said." Franklin protested.
"Uh huh. But that's not what I heard."
Now Franklin rolled his eyes. "Quit reading things into what I'm saying that are not there, Exec. We will come back here. We will talk about it."
chapter twenty-one
"Okay, that's it, people," Franklin said. "Let's secure from general quarters."
Franklin looked around the bridge as the crew settled back into the maneuvering watch. Daphne arrived on the bridge from her station in CIC. She was back in uniform after removing her space suit.
She leaned over towards Franklin, "they are getting better, Sir."
"I think so too. I don't think we will embarrass ourselves too badly if we have to do this for real."
"The crew is tired, Sir."
"That would explain some of them stumbling around just a bit," he grinned. "We are, what, two days out from Victor. Is there any reason why we couldn't give the crew a couple of days of extra sack time?"
"Not at all, Sir."
"Well, if you will give me a chance to get out of this suit, then I will let you see to it."
"Aye, aye, Sir."
Franklin stood up. "Exec has the conn."
"Aye, aye, Sir. I have the conn," Daphne said.
Franklin pulled his helmet off the rack next to the captain's chair and headed for his cabin. Daphne looked down at the small display screen by her knee and scrolled through several entries. She read the contents of the screen for a few moments and then pushed the button on the arm of the chair.
"Engineering, Chief Engineer Louie."
"Report status, Louie," Daphne said.
"Drive systems nominal. Enviro unit seven down for repairs. Crew status, well, except for fatigue."
"Thank you, Louie. Please send me a report on the enviro unit after repairs are completed."
"Aye, aye, Exec."
Daphne pushed the button to close the connection. She scrolled further down the screen and then pushed the button again.
"Stores, Lieutenant Foxworth."
"Report status, Lieutenant."
Daphne continued, polling each department. She was just completing her check of each of the ship's departments when Franklin stepped back onto the bridge. She started to jump up.
"As you were," he said. He nodded at her and walked into the ready room.
She pushed another button on the chair arm and a time sounded over all of the speakers on the ship. "This is the Exec. The captain has informed me that there will be no further drills for the next forty-eight hours before we arrive at Victor. We will maintain our normal maneuvering watch, and I recommend you all get as much sack time as possible."
She pushed the button again, and an electronic chirp
indicated the end of the message.
# # #
Victor is not the most desirable planet in the known universe. It orbits the G2 star Tetrarch at a distance of seven light minutes. It is wreathed in clouds nearly to ground level. Most of the planet below the polar regions is damp, dank, swampy jungle. The oceans are a soupy mix of chemicals and a plankton analog.
The human population of about forty thousand, along with eight hundred or so Woogies, live in the neighborhood of the Knoxville settlement near the North Pole. Knoxville is considered a trading post. In practice most of the populace is engaged in the various fencing operations needed to support pirates, privateers, and many of the less scrupulous traders.
Canopus nosed into the dock at Victor Station. Following a last minute brain storm by Signe Foxworth, Franklin manufactured a new background for the ship. Gibbet was a free-lance trader commanded by Cougar Nelson. It was not unusual for old naval inventory to wash up around Victor. The guards at the gangway were dressed in old clothes, as were Franklin and Daphne.
Franklin, Daphne and Louie gathered at the personnel port. Daphne was now sporting an eye patch.
“Who do you expect to fool with that, Daphne?”
“What? The patch? I thought it was in character.”
Franklin snorted. “It is. Just so we don’t have any ‘Ahhaaarrr, Mateys.’”
“I think you’re the one we have to worry about.”
“I think you need to dress up like that for Alex when we get back.”
Daphne snorted. “Alex is a sweet man. He wouldn’t understand.”
“Exactly. Do you expect to find bunkerage okay, Daff?”
She shifted gears. “Yes, Skipper. Should be routine.”
Louie slipped up behind them. “The Woogie would like eye patch.”
“If you put one on, you would be blind, silly.” Daphne said.
The plugged-plumbing rumble of Louie’s laugh stopped her.
“You need to remember Daphne,” Franklin said, “that Woogies can pull your leg too.”
“I gotta remember that. I’ll get you for that, Louie.”
“Louie, you need to get that vocoder off,” Franklin said. “I’ve booked you a seat on the daily shuttle ground-side. You have about fifteen minutes to get to the bay.”
“Righto. The Woogie will fly low. Ta-ta.”
He used three of his tentacles to remove the vocoder and hand it to Franklin, before he scurried up the gangway.
“Where do you suppose he comes up with that stuff?” Daphne asked.
“He reads constantly. Woogies are more intellectually curious than humans – if that is possible.”
“I have to keep reminding myself not to underestimate him.”
“Keep in mind we have been dealing with Woogies for eight-hundred years and nobody has succeeded in enslaving them. Not for lack of trying either.”
“That’s hard to believe. They are such trusting souls.”
“But they are not naïve, Daphne. They trust the people who have earned that trust. The fact Louie is willing to tease you means you have impressed him. They are funny creatures, but far from stupid.”
She shook her head. “Does it surprise you to be his friend?
“Yes on several levels. I mean Louie really is a nice guy. He is absolutely dedicated to rescuing the Foxworths, but he is having a great time too.”
“Once you get past the smell and the general shape, you stop thinking of him as being different.”
“That’s true,” Franklin said. “However, it’s a bit disconcerting when he tries to start talking religion with me.”
“So you’ve got Louie and the Father both working on you?” She wore a broad grin.
“I can deal with Father Riggs. I mean he is doing what he is supposed to be doing, I guess. Having a pink alien trying to tell you about Jesus just does not compute.”
Daphne laughed heartily. “Better you than me. So what are your plans today, Skipper?”
“While you are victualling the Gibbet I am going to visit some of the local watering holes on the station.”
“Under what pretext, if I might ask, Sir?”
“You may ask, Exec. I will mention we can carry small valuable cargoes. Or we can sail as escort for valuable ships.”
“And you expect anybody to trust you.”
“Of course not. We’d be in a pickle if I really did manage to pick up some business. I mainly want to get a feel for the environment.”
“Just don’t get yourself wasted.”
“Of course not, Exec. That would be suicidal here. No, I plan to be irrigating the potted plants. But I’ll be generous with anyone who wants to drink at my expense.”
Daphne looked carefully at him. “Franklin, I get worried when you go off by yourself.”
Franklin chuckled. “I know you think I shouldn’t be let out to play by myself, but I survived seven years in the Navy doing that.”
“And how many times did you get rolled in one of those dives like you’re visiting today.”
“Precisely once. Look, I’m as capable as anybody of being stupid, but I’m a quick learner. I’ll be all right. Now time’s a-wastin’.”
He spun on a heel and walked off the ship.
Daphne shook her head. “I think I’m going to have to keep an eye on that boy,” she said to herself. She turned to the two guards. “Now stay alert here. If you see anything strange, don’t hesitate; call me right away. If I'm not available, call the Chief of the Boat.”
The Chief of the Boat was the highest ranking non-commissioned officer aboard a warship in the Merchants and Manufacturers League Navy. Franklin and Daphne had automatically adoped the same term when they crewed Canopus.
The guards snapped to attention. “Aye, aye, Exec.”
# # #
“Where have you been floating recently?” Floog’etzal asked.
“Hotel management on Hepplewhite,” Flayern’ratal, otherwise known as Louie, said.
“How is business?”
“Previously difficult, then better, now worse. Still better than here.”
Woogie communication is bafflingly complex to humans. They make sounds by forcing air through various pathways of their internal plumbing. They combine this with five tentacle gestures and by wrinkling their skin above their single eye. They add emphasis with an assortment of subtle or unpleasant odors. While Woogies are nearly as prone as humans to disagreement and sometimes violently so, they are unfailingly honest in their communication. A Woogie will usually refrain from speaking rather than lie.
“Back to visit?”
“One reason,” Louie said.
Floog’etzal grew still and stared at Louie with his single blue eye. “Looking for more investors?”
“No. Eernal’flotch-hahnol joined the business on Hepplewhite.”
Floog’etzal reached up with a tentacle to stroke the flooga draped over him. Known by humans as a Woogean Quintopod, the pet resembled nothing so much as a land-going octopus.
“You are mated with Hahnol, then?”
“No. Just business. Good friend.”
“Should mate. Make the nest-guardian joyous.”
“Some day.”
“Other reason?” Floog’etzal asked.
“We talk?” Louie asked in return.
Floog’etzal stood motionless and stared at Louie. “Risk the Victor nest?”
“Probably.” Louie accompanied his answer with a wave of an odor humans would call butterscotch.
The other Woogie stared at Louie again for a full minute, then spun around several times waving his tentacles. “I do not like it.”
Louie stared at Floog’etzal for about a minute, then turned and started for the door.
“Wait.”
Louie stopped and watched Floog’etzal, waiting for him to speak.
“Obligations are a burden,” the other Woogie said. “We talk.”
Louie waved circles with two tentacles. “No obligation. I told you before. You owe nothin
g, save a friendly smell.”
“Easy to say. You save mate’s life. Once again, I offer you my fortune.”
“Did the Redeemer ask for payment?”
“No.” Floog’etzal hesitated. “We talk, then?”
“Two captives,” Louie said. “Mr. Glenn and Mrs. Monica. The Foxworth Nest. Brought here by Pirate Manfred.”
Floog’etzal shivered. “The Higginbotham nest dangerous. The Pirate Manfred very dangerous.”
“Just need information. Is Mr. Glenn and Mrs. Monica at Victor? Are they alive? What is their location?”
“I cannot rescue them for you,” Floog’etzal shivered again.
“No need. We can rescue.”
“Wait.” Floog’etzal scurried out of the room.
# # #
The short, stocky, middle-aged woman slid into the booth. “So how's business, Franklin? Or perhaps I should say, Cougar?”
Franklin concealed his shock. “You've come down in the world, Margrethe. What a pleasant surprise to see you out here.”
“I should say the same. Bit of a shock to see Willard Krause's fair-haired child out here skippering.”
“At some point, my dear Ms. Nesbitt, one has to do what one must to earn a living. And sometimes, one must bury the past.”
“Pretty clean looking vessel to show up in.”
“Yeah, well why grab a broken down scow when a DD was sitting out there for the taking.”
“Funny there's never been much mention in the news services about a destroyer getting hijacked.”
“If you were Willard Krause, would you want to admit you let a perfectly good destroyer get away from you?” Franklin asked. “There's a reason why one's name should be changed.”
“She cocked her head as she looked at him. “Just goes to show what you never know, I guess. So what are you doing out here?”
“Running small cargo and contract escort. Do you have something for me?” Franklin watched her carefully. “You're a long ways from being a Senior Chief, Margrethe.”
She chuckled. “It seems we all have things to hide in our past. No, but I can probably get you in touch with somebody who can use your services. I know a lot of people out here.”
“Do you, now?”
She nodded. “There are lots of opportunities out here for people who want to bury the past.”