by Darrell Bain
* * * *
“So how was it?” Tom asked his twin as he was hurriedly preparing his exhausted body to report for duty. Fortunately, he was young and knew he could do without sleep for a day or so.
Jerry grinned. “Great, but you know what?”
“No, what?” He glanced at his watch.
“She kinda hinted around a little like she might want to try both of us.”
“Of course she will. I'm next.”
“No, I meant both together. How does that sound?”
“Really? I wouldn't have thought it of her. Not that we'd mind, would we?”
“I wouldn't if you wouldn't but I'm wondering if it's just the stories going round that made her talk like that. She was the one who insisted I call you this morning to get the latest poop.”
“So that's why you were in such a hurry to know. What did she say when you told her that I heard we were lost?” Tom eyed his twin brother with curiosity written on his face.
“That's when she started the bit about both of us. Not in so many words but like she's thinking of something permanent.”
“She doesn't think we'll find our way back?”
Jerry shrugged both his shoulders. “I've told you all I know. Right now we'd better shit and get or we'll be on permanent guard detail.”
They were late anyway and SFC Esmeralda Wong of first platoon wasn't happy with them. She stood the two young PFCs against a bulkhead in the ready room and read them the riot act with her face inches from theirs. Had either of them dared looked down rather than six inches over her head they might have been enticed by the closeness of her breasts to them but of course they didn't. Esmeralda Wong was nice looking and had a good figure but she was all sergeant where duty was concerned.
“You two yardbirds better get your heads out your asses and stop thinking with your dicks like you were last night. You may need to use your brains before this mess is over with. Now get your young asses into the gym and if I see a spot on either of your cammies that isn't soaked in sweat a half hour from now, you can do it all again. Clear?”
“Yes, Sergeant,” they chorused in unison.
“Then go!”
They went.
“How'd you like to be paired up with her for life?” Jerry asked after they were out of hearing of the sergeant.
“I'd want four more stripes on my sleeves first.”
“Right on. She ain't bad to look at but I bet she'd be hell to live with.”
* * * *
Travis nodded to Captain Grindstaff as he entered the officers’ main conference room and motioned for him to close the door. He was the last of the department heads. Strictly speaking, he wasn't a department head at all but Travis had decided to invite him anyway. He thought before it was all said and done, Grindstaff would probably be playing a much more central role in ship operations, even if he was no more than a passenger at the moment.
“That's everyone,” he announced. He leaned back in his chair and surveyed the ship's officers arrayed in the room while they busied themselves with coffee or tea or the little round Baumbark patties from Tandor he'd coerced from the sous chef.
There was Sissy, of course. Brandon Masters, the tall dark-haired and competent logistics officer and probably the most important of the others present excepting possibly the lone military officer. Also his very good friend. James Terrell, the chief engineer. Borg Johannsen, the big blond Swede who functioned as weapons officer. Timothy Effers, the electronics officer, his young handsome face looking even glummer than it had the day of the mishap. He was playing with a lock of his long black hair as if he wanted to be anywhere but at the meeting. Sitting next to him and looking equally dour was Phillip Havers, Chief of Security. The ship's surgeon Wesley Parham, a COESS career officer was present. He'd made sure of that. Occasionally ships used physicians going or coming from assignments on colony worlds but only when the company failed to recruit enough qualified doctors. There were a few others at the table but those were the ones he would be depending upon the most.
“First of all,” Travis began, “I should tell you that I have spoken to Captain Gordon and he has agreed that I should chair this meeting. He also agreed with mine and the astrogator's proposal that we set a course toward the nearest star cluster. Upon arriving in the vicinity we shall begin searching for a planet that will support life. Engineering is consulting with astrogation in the design and fabrication of instruments and improvement of some already on hand to help us in the search.” He held up his hand as several of the officers tried to interrupt him. “And before any of you ask, yes, we are irretrievably lost. If you have doubts, Sissy Coffeehouse will confirm that development.”
Sissy nodded affirmatively, meeting the eyes of those who had had doubts. “I've been on this run for three years and have a record of every astronomical sighting taken over that period of time. I've used our control room computers to do a comparison of them with the sky as it is now, or rather was while we were stopped. There's no resemblance anywhere. I've also gone back in the archives and pulled up star maps of our part of the galaxy. No matches there, either. We're lost and there's no reasonable chance of finding the way home in our lifetimes. In fact, I wouldn't even know where to start looking.”
Travis thanked her and waited until the reaction had died down then continued, “What I'd like to do now is find out from Brandon exactly how long we have until we must begin supporting ourselves and how soon rationing must begin. Also I'd like suggestions on the best way to break the news of our predicament to the crew and passengers. I'm aware that rumors are floating around and that the news we're lost is already out. However, I don't want to announce baldly that we're never going to see earth again, not without a bit of preparation first. As for—”
“How the hell else do we announce somebody fucked up other than to spit it out?” Havers said loudly.
Travers turned his attention to the jowly, overweight security chief. As much as he was aware of the necessity for policing the enormously varied complement of a starliner such as Carlsbad, he still didn't care for its chief security officer. In his opinion the man was far too overbearing and much too zealous with his hard hand when a finger touch would have worked better. Twice during his time as a Carlsbad officer, he'd had to overrule Havers’ severe punishments for minor infractions. With the captain's approval, of course.
“We don't know that anyone fucked up, as you put it, Phillip. The reason for the computer failure is still under investigation. And it isn't germane to this meeting anyhow. Even if a person or persons in the ship proves to be responsible, it won't help solve our problem in the least. We'd still be lost.”
“Well, I think whoever screwed up is the problem. And I'd like to know why the captain isn't chairing this meeting and how come we aren't trying to find out where we are.” He stared belligerently at Travis as if he thought the whole affair was his fault.
“The captain is indisposed at the moment,” Doctor Parham said, his countenance as imperturbable as a stone library lion.
“And as I said, he is allowing me to chair this meeting after I suggested it to him,” Travis added for emphasis. “And to be blunt about it, we know where we are; we just don't know where earth is in relation to us and there isn't one chance in a billion we ever will. Does that satisfy you, Phillip?”
Havers crossed his arms across his chest and rested them on his protruding belly in a way that pointedly announced his displeasure to the others. “If the captain is ‘indisposed', as the surgeon puts it, then I think we should wait until he isn't indisposed to make decisions.”
“Some things can't wait,” Sissy interjected, trying to calm the waters.
“Like taking off in another direction without even looking for earth?”
“Are you an astronomer, Phillip? If so, it's escaped my notice,” she responded sharply at the implied affront of her skill as an astrogator. “You just heard Travis and I both tell you that we can't go home. Are you deaf?”
Travi
s suppressed the mirth that threatened to erupt and show in his expression. He knew Sissy didn't like Havers any more than he did but he couldn't let the meeting disintegrate into arguments like that.
“Phillip, that subject is closed,” he said forcefully.
“The hell it is!” Havers stood up and glared at Travis then at the others. “Until I see Captain Gordon's initials on that ‘by direction’ in the log, I'm not going to be a part of this facade.”
“Then I'll be glad to excuse you so the rest of us can get something accomplished,” Travis said and immediately berated himself for letting his temper show.
Havers departed with ill grace, leaving Travis to wonder if he could have handled the man better. Probably not. He made a mental note to get the captain to initial the log as soon as possible. He probably should have already done it but ... the hell with it. Decisions needed to be made. The longer they went without action, the worse off they'd be, in more ways than one.
“Where were we?” he asked, looking around the table at the others.
“You were asking for suggestions about the best way to break the news to the crew and passengers, I believe,” Masters said and chuckled mirthlessly. “Although I think the point is probably moot now, or will be soon. I don't see Phillip Havers keeping his mouth closed for any length of time.”
“You're probably right, Brandon, but I had the captain's verbal permission for the course change and to hold this meeting. He didn't give me any direction about announcing the ... difficulty of our situation other than very indirectly. However, he did have the recorder going so our conversation is on file.”
“Perhaps we should ask the doc what he thinks before going any further.”
Travis was relieved that someone else brought it up. He didn't want to be seen as grasping for control of the ship.
“All right. Doctor Parham, without breaking patient confidences, can you tell us anything about Captain Gordon's condition now?” He hoped the doctor would be factual and not talk over their heads in arcane medical jargon.
“Unfortunately, Travis, I can't. That is, not without a formal request, in writing, from you. There are certain legal aspects of the situation that must be followed.” It was a broad hint but others jumped in before he could agree.
“Why, when we all know what he's like? Hell, he tried to accuse me of screwing up the computer! Some of you heard him.” Effers looked around the table belligerently.
“We all didn't,” Sissy corrected him, remembering some of Gordon's wild accusations. “I did, though. Doctor Parham, I don't know what you've discovered since then, but he was irrational in the control room and he hasn't been back there since.”
“I'll agree with that but I think the doc is right,” Masters said. “Anything we do should be legal. The situation is touchy enough without someone accusing us of mutiny.”
Travis had wondered when that word would put in an appearance. Now it had. It made him wish he had gotten his orders in writing but at the time he'd felt he was doing good just getting as much as he had from Gordon.
“All right, Brandon, Doc. I agree. Give me a moment.” He brought the log up on the screen and synched it to his com then wrote out the formal request to the ship's surgeon. “How's that?”
Parham copied it to his own com. “That will suffice.”
Travis waited with the others to hear his diagnosis while the doctor paused to gather his thoughts. He knew they were as curious as he was but he'd told only Sissy, Grindstaff and the doctor of his one-on-one meeting with the captain in his cabin.
“Basically, I believe Captain Gordon is divorcing himself from reality. At first I thought a prescription and some sleep might bring him out of it but the last time I saw him, approximately an hour before this meeting, he was still acting out in an even more bizarre fashion. In my opinion I believe that at the present time he is unfit for duty. I will append my signature to that statement for the log.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Travis said gratefully. “In light of the surgeon's opinion and in view of Captain Gordon's actions since the failure of our main computer, and considering the pressing need for decisive action, I therefore assume control of COESS ship Carlsbad until such time as Captain Gordon is physically and mentally fit to resume his duties according to the ship's surgeon.” Once the words were out of his mouth, he realized how much further he had gone than what he originally thought was necessary. Making the decision so soon might be called unlawful if he was ever called to account by his COESS superiors but action was needed now, not some time in the future. And unless there was some sort of divine intervention he didn't believe in, that call wasn't going to happen. The hell with it, he thought. He'd said the words. Now he could start making decisions in good conscience.
“Excuse me for a moment, sir,” Grindstaff said. He stepped out of the room and returned a moment later.
Travis had no idea what that was about but he trusted the army officer and as soon as he was seated again, the conference continued.
* * * *
“Are you serious? I've heard we were lost but it's just a temporary thing, isn't it? And deposing Captain Gordon! That's ... why that's mutiny!” Elias Montingham said. His incipient jowls twitched at the security chief's news, brought to him in his stateroom where he had been trying to contact a senior ship's officer in order to find out whether he was still going to be the governor of Onceover. Success in the endeavor had been notably lacking. He had been put off with vague excuses about a “course correction” while rumors held that they were lost in space. And now one of the officers, Philip Havers, had come to him, telling of another officer usurping the captain's authority and asking for his help.
“That's my opinion, Governor,” Havers said, slyly playing on the man's egoistic opinion of his own worth. “I'm going to see the captain right now but I wanted the opinion of someone in government first. I'm sure you'll back the captain up when he hears what that damn uppity executive officer is doing and has me arrest him, won't you?”
“Most assuredly!” Havers had already told him that Callahan had taken upon himself authority heretofore reserved to the captain, such as radically changing course and calling a meeting behind his back. “If the captain says Callahan's wrong, I'll back him and you both up any way I can.”
Montingham saw himself as a mover and shaker in COESS politics and his present assignment as a step upward. He wasn't even aware that he owed his prospective governorship to a favor granted to a cousin of the Colonial Services Director, nor that he had been shuttled off earth to get rid of him. Had he ever made it to Onceover, he would have been even more surprised at the primitive living conditions there and the attitude of the colonists toward outside governors. They hated incompetent appointees. He also didn't give a thought to the fact that he wasn't in any line of command within the ship nor did he have authority over anyone.
“Good,” Chief Havers said enthusiastically. “I knew I could count on you. “Let's go see the captain, but first I need to alert my men.”
Montingham noticed that Havers didn't speak but simply tapped his wrist com a few times. It led him to suspect Havers already had his cohorts standing by waiting to hear from him, but like any occurrence Montingham didn't care for he quickly put it out of his mind.
A few minutes later they were beside the entrance to Captain Gordon's cabin. A senior steward standing at the door was apparently waiting on the captain to do something, perhaps call him inside. Or perhaps guarding his privacy. Montingham didn't know.
“Captain Gordon isn't having visitors at the moment,” the steward said.
“We aren't visitors, Morrick. This is official, urgent business,” Havers said. He pushed past the steward and punched the voice activator without waiting on permission.
“Who the hell is it?” the captain's voice rang out. “I said I'm not seeing anyone!”
“It's Chief Havers, Captain. It's urgent.”
“No, I said!”
“The executive officer is takin
g over your ship, Captain.” He winked slyly at Montingham while the steward shuffled awkwardly in place with his mouth gaping.
The door opened. “Come in,” Gordon said gruffly. Once the two men were inside, he closed the door in the steward's face as he was trying to offer refreshments. He didn't ask them to sit but simply stared at them with bloodshot eyes.
“Now what is this about the executive officer that's so urgent?”
“Sir, Mister Callahan has called a meeting of the senior officers. He even has Captain Grindstaff from that army company with him. And he's saying you gave him control of the ship.”
Montingham shifted his gaze to Havers. That wasn't exactly what the security chief had told him but it was close enough. Besides, he didn't like looking at the captain. His uniform was wrinkled and dirty and the man had an odor about him as if he hadn't bathed lately.
“I did no such thing! The crew is supposed to be hunting for a way back to earth!”
“Well, that's not what they're doing, Captain,” Havers said. “They've set a completely new course and now they're getting ready to tell the crew that we're lost in space and can never go home.”
“What?! We'll see about that!” Then he seemed to see Montingham for the first time. “What are you doing here?” he asked harshly. “Are you in on the conspiracy to keep us from finding earth again?”