by Darrell Bain
Is it my fault? she wondered. No. A low-grade colonization fever had been endemic in the crew even before the battle. This pristine world and their grieving over their losses were doing it. Too bad about Joyce, she thought. Rufus had finally found someone he thought he could really love and had only a little less than a year with her before the universe casually wiped her out of his life. And what about me? In love with a man I don't dare touch or the crew really might revolt. Shit! She removed her undergarments and used a cleansing cloth on her body, even though she really didn't need it. They had had plenty of water while down on a planet.
She slipped into bed nude and lay there thinking. There just weren't many options, not for a crew who had gone through what this one had. But somehow, she knew she had to deflect that homing instinct—either that, or channel it into something else. But what?
* * * *
"We can lift off in forty eight hours, ma'am,” Shinzyki reported when Lisa and Jeremy appeared for their watch as close together as if they had been sleeping with each other.
I wish! Jeremy thought as he examined the satisfied expression on the Warrant Officer's face. He'd finished the repairs a day early, and that was while pulling his watch in the control room. He did look short of sleep, though that could just as easily be from thinking about Joyce as overwork. Work as such never seemed to bother the man.
"Wonderful,” Lisa said. “We'll give them a day's rest and a chance to shower and wash all their garments, and then let them know."
"There's still talk of staying here, Ma'am,” Rayne said.
"Yes, I know. I'll take care of it."
Jeremy wondered what she intended to do. He'd not only overheard a little of the talk himself, but on the prior day, Juanita had called him on his personal com.
"Lieutenant Costa,” he answered.
"This is Chief Martinez. Jeremy—I mean Lieutenant Costa—I need to talk to you."
"What about, ‘Nita?” He purposely didn't use her title. From the tone of voice he thought it was probably something personal.
"I ... Jere, I don't want to be seen whispering in your ear. You know what the crew thinks of a fink. But this ... the Skipper needs to know."
"Go ahead.” It had been late at night. He'd just finished studying and was ready to turn out the light.
"It's ... well, one of the explorers has been agitating with the crew, trying to talk them into deserting. The Skipper needs to know."
"She knows about the talk, ‘Nita."
"Jere ... Lieutenant, I know she's aware of talk, but this is different. Remember Lieutenant Whistler?"
Uh oh! “Yes, all too well. I had to ... never mind. Who is it?"
When she hesitated he spoke more firmly. “'Nita, this is something that goes beyond being a fink. If one of the crew is going crazy, we need to know."
"It's ... it's Buford Russell. He'd claiming we'll all die if we don't stay here. He's also saying that more Monkeyclaw ships are after us and that the officers are in a conspiracy to promote their favorites. Just all kinds of stuff like that. I think he's gone off the deep end."
"Is he convincing anyone?"
"I ... I'm afraid so. At the very least, some are wavering."
"Okay, ‘Nita. Thanks. I'll see that the Skipper knows about it first thing in the morning. I don't want to wake her up. She's getting less sleep than I am, and I'm sure not in my bunk very often."
"Just do something."
"I will,” he said, but she had already tapped out.
He had indeed told the Skipper first thing the next day. She had thanked him, but that was all. After the other two officers departed, he met her gaze.
"I suppose you're wondering what I intend to do about setting the crew right and what action I'm going to take concerning Explorer Russell, aren't you?” she said. Her expression had as much steel in it as her voice.
"I can't help wondering, ma'am. I'm always thinking of what's best for the boat."
"I see,” she said in a softer tone. “Well, Lieutenant, how about this? You decide what you'd do in my place. Then, after I take action to correct the situation, you tell me how close your solution would have been to what I did. How does that sound?"
Jeremy was wrong-footed, but he detected the tiny, almost indiscernible upward tilt to her lips.
"Aye, aye, ma'am. Will do."
"Fine. Let's get to work. I want to do a simulated transit this morning from start to finish. You take notes, but don't correct me—just tell any place I went wrong, when I'm finished."
"Okay,” he agreed. Working with her would be fun, except that he couldn't get close without non-professional thoughts entering his head. He would have felt worse, but he was almost certain the same scenarios were playing out in her mind, too.
* * * *
The next day at change of watch Lisa said, “Rufus, I can see that the crew outside is about finished bathing and washing clothes. I think this would be a good time for me to talk to them."
"Should I bring them into the ship or take the ones in here outside?"
"I'll speak to them all outside, but I want you and Jeremy at each end of the boat with high powered rifles to guard against carnivores. Face outward, away from the crew so they don't think I'm threatening them. Rayne, you get atop the boat and face them so that nothing can come from the river either way to cause us problems.” She looked at each of them in turn then back to Shinzyki. “All right COB, get the rest of the crew outside with the others. You three, grab your rifles and get to your posts. Rufus, when you have them ready, com me."
* * * *
Having taken a deep breath to steady herself, Lisa stepped through the airlock and stood on the top step of the extended ladder. She surveyed the waiting crew, trying to gauge their mood. If she had to guess, she would surmise that about half tended toward wanting to stay right where they were, while the rest were, if not happy about it, so enshrined with the concept of duty that they would go on as long as they were able. Buford Russell was glaring at her. She decided to take the bit in her teeth. Now where did that expression originate from? she thought incongruously.
"I've heard that some of you would like to stay here and colonize. I can understand that. I'd like nothing better than to stay myself. We're running with barely more than half a crew in a banged up longboat that should never be making this voyage in the first place. Further, I can see nothing ahead of us except more hardship and probably more deaths and injuries. Given all that, some people who have never been explorers or been in the navy would wonder why on Earth we would consider anything other than staying here and building a colony. Yes, they would certainly wonder, wouldn't they? But we don't, do we?"
Buford Russell was smirking now. She ignored him and continued speaking while standing ramrod straight, hands behind her back and a stern, dignified expression complementing every word she uttered.
"We know why we keep going, don't we? It isn't because we love danger. We aren't glory seekers. We don't love hardship for its own sake like some masochistic idiots. Hell, we don't even keep going because promotions seem to be coming so rapidly lately."
For the first time since she'd come out, she saw some smiles, heard a few chuckles.
"So then why do we keep on?” she continued, and then paused, searching out every face and catching their eye as if speaking directly to them alone. “We keep going because to quit now would break faith with our dead: the ones whose sacrifices have gotten us this far. Our journey up until now—this exploration voyage—has been bought and paid for with the blood of your mates, your friends and sometimes your lovers. It would be a tragedy—a blot on our very souls—to abandon everything they gave their lives for. Could any of you really turn your backs not only your dead, but your loved ones on Earth and the home worlds? What of them? Would you quit now, and leave them helpless to resist when the Monkeyclaws inevitably discover our home worlds? Could you even live with yourselves while imagining what would happen to billions of innocents should they not have time to p
repare for vicious, hostile aliens without an ounce of mercy in their bones—aliens who would slaughter little children as quickly as they would you or I? It isn't just us at risk, or our loved ones. If we don't get back to warn the government, our entire species is at risk of elimination.
"We can't quit. Not so long as one of is living and able to pilot Hurricane Jack and fight to the death against anyone or anything standing in the way of warning our worlds that the universe they've been preaching about is not peaceful, is not empty of other intelligent beings. The pacifists got it wrong, people. The universe may be out there waiting on us, but we won't take it by shunning battle. Not ever. The ivory tower theorists may as well pack up and look for a different profession, once we get back and tell them how wrong they were.
"So let's go on, now. Into the boat, and on to Earth, and God help anything that gets in our way!"
"No!” Buford Russell shouted. His face was a fiery red and his fists were clenched tightly by his side. “We aren't going! Don't go into that ship! She'll kill every damn one of us!"
Lisa examined him as she might a stray bug that had somehow found a way into her reader. “You don't want to go on, Russell?"
"No, and you can't make me!"
"Very well. You may stay. In fact, I strongly suggest that you do, because if you set so much as one foot into Hurricane Jack you will be charged with mutiny and incitement to mutiny while in a state of emergency, if not outright war. I strongly suspect you would be found guilty and sentenced to death. COB!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Have former Explorer Russell stripped of his kit and provided with a knife and hand weapon, and then bring the rest of the crew aboard. We lift off at 0600 in the morning.” She turned and walked back into the boat and out of sight.
By the time Russell had been denuded of his kit, he was frothing at the mouth but being restrained by Casey Dugan as easily as if he were a six-year-old child. In the end, she had to remove the power pack from a hand laser and toss it fifty yards away before turning him loose and entering the boat—the last of the crew to do so. She wasn't worried about his retrieving it after she was inside. There was nothing a hand laser could do to harm the ultra-tough material of the longboat.
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Chapter Twenty-Six
When Jeremy joined her in the control room, Lisa glanced at his face and was amused to see that he hadn't entirely erased the tear streaks on his face. God, had she been that eloquent? If so, maybe she should have tried to just talk the fucking Monkeys into quitting and going home!
"Ready for work, Lieutenant Costa?"
"Ready to go, ma'am. Uh, do I have to tell you how I would have handled that situation?” He looked as if he were ashamed of the solution he'd thought of.
"Mmm, not unless you care to. Don't worry about it, Jere. You've only been an officer a short while. I graduated from the academy over twenty years ago. You'll learn. Now let's get the boat ready for liftoff. I wonder what Rufus would say if I asked to handle it instead of him?"
"I believe he might be just a wee bit anxious, but he's going to have to let each of us take a turn or two, just in case."
"You need the practice more than I do, Jeremy. I can handle the boat in-system. It's just the astrogation I'm rusty on."
"You're coming along fine, ma'am. You'll be up to speed soon."
"It helps if you've known it once. Damn. Whoever would have thought when we left Earth that a trainee from the explorer corps would be navigating a longboat from one end of the galaxy to the other?"
"That's a bit of an exaggeration, Skipper."
"It's close enough. Go ahead and get the liftoff coordinates ready for Rufus. He'll calculate them again himself, but you need the practice."
He got to work. When he pulled up his final calculations, the actual liftoff worked out to 06:33 if they wanted to follow the most optimal course toward transit. While bringing the star map on line, he wondered how close to his liftoff Rufus would come. He'd been doing pretty well lately.
"Do you still want us to go with the G2 we looked at yesterday, Skipper?"
"Yes. I think it's safe enough."
Shrugging, he began playing with the map. The G2 was twelve light years distant, a long jump for the boat and a tight squeeze past a G3 and a Red Giant. Possibly the tug of gravity could pull the boat out of hyper toward one of them, but he doubted it. On the other hand, the worst he thought could happen was getting scorched a little by the Red Giant. On the gripping hand ... no, she had approved the transit and that's the way he'd plan it. Transits scarier than this one had been made on this journey, and they had survived to tell of it.
"All set, Skipper. You just have to find the groove and ride it to transit,” he said.
"Me?"
"You. You're as ready as you can be."
"Hmm. Had I known you intended me to make this transit, I might have picked a different target!"
He laughed. He liked to see her in a good mood and not worrying so much. And hadn't that been a humdinger of a spellbinding speech to the crew? It had brought tears to his eyes that he wasn't the least bit ashamed of. Besides, it worked. He doubted that his own solution would have had nearly the effect on the crew, even if it had resulted in their staying with the boat. Russell was gone, too, and that was good, despite their being so short-handed. He had been a trouble-maker even before they had encountered the Monkeys.
"Would you like to use the simulator and practice a while?"
"Perhaps I should, Jeremy, but I want to look at our map first. Move over."
He slid his chair away from the position and let her into it. She sat down and extended the view of the star map to include their next three proposed targets to where they would turn and go crosswise back through part of the Orion spur to Earth. That would just about be the halfway point.
"I'll be glad to see us turn,” he said.
"Uh huh. I'll announce it when we do. It will boost morale, I'm sure."
"We'll still have a long way to go, Skipper."
"But it won't take near the time as what we've spent getting to that point.
"Huh?” Jeremy exclaimed. “Uh, I mean, it won't? Ma'am."
"Use your head, Lieutenant. With only a little more than half the crew we started with, we won't be feeding as many people, so we won't have to gather organics as often. That's what takes the time between transits."
"Of course!” He felt like a dunce, but at the same time he felt his heart lighten. They were better than half way home in time spent, perhaps more! He frowned as he began thinking about it. “Skipper, may I ask why you didn't use that argument back on Summertime when the crew was getting ... uh ... restless, shall we say?
"That's a good lesson for when you become a commander, Jeremy. Always keep something in reserve. I would have used that fact if I'd had to, but I didn't, so I still have it available for use later on if necessary. And besides keeping a reserve, you should also constantly think of something besides your own narrow specialty. You'll be amazed at how often solutions to problems pop up where and when you least expect them. Of course, the problems come along when you least expect them, too, so it sort of evens out."
* * * *
"I've made my decision, Justin,” Lisa told the explorer officer after she and Jeremy had been relieved the next evening and she had called Justin to her day cabin. “You can go ahead and tell Sarah Goldwater she is now an officer and a gentlewoman as well as an explorer. That will be a Brevet Promotion. And you can promote Charley Vane to Acting Chief. If he does well, we can brevet him. Let me know after you've told Goldwater and talked to her, and I'll give her my little attitude adjustment lecture, too."
"Great. I'd like to congratulate you on that little speech to the troops, Skipper. It was nothing less than inspired."
"I'm sure you could have done as well, Justin, but thank you anyway. Now with these promotions out of the way, let's hope they are the last ones, other than what comes in the normal course of a voyage."
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"From your lips to whoever or whatever is in charge of such things. I'm ready for the rest of the voyage to be smooth as a Spanky top."
"Don't count on it,” Lisa said.
* * * *
Jeremy took Lisa's advice to heart over the next transits. He began looking at the crew in a different light, not as individuals but as a group, with group thinking and group dynamics. He discovered something that had been apparent but unrecognized until now—at least by him. The boat was akin to a microcosm of humanity under normal circumstances. Now, however, he thought it resembled what a platoon in prolonged combat did. Or so he'd read once. There was nowhere to dissipate tension outside the group ... no place where an individual could go to blow off steam. It was patently impossible for a person to depart for greener pastures when he was no longer able to tolerate the cut of another's jib.
After examining that particular problem, he saw that it was being solved by the crew's pairing off, with the pair's becoming very close friends or lovers. And he suddenly realized that was what Commander Brackett had been talking about when he mentioned personal relations. He knew it would come to that after Sam Johnston was destroyed. Brackett had been prepared to look the other way in some cases of the pairing between subordinate and superior, so long as their bonding didn't affect efficiency. Just as Lisa was doing with some of the same kind of pairs. Unfortunately, it couldn't include them, but at least he could look forward to the rest of the voyage going faster than the first part. Without being able to be with Lisa other than on duty, it was going to seem an awfully long time, though.
"I miss seeing you in the control room, Rufus,” Jeremy said before Lisa arrived for the change of watch one day. “It doesn't have the same feel without you handling the boat.” Jeremy said that at one change of watch. They had just lifted off from a small planet that had lots of water as its only redeeming feature.