"It isn't a very specific way of doing things," the Bunter complained, but accepted the recommendation. "But I will run through the circuits once again. In case."
"That is very wise. And get Security here, will you? They should have arrived by now."
"We have issued a third signal," said his Senior Bunter.
"Good show," said Group Line Chief Praechee, pausing on the gangway as he heard the cheerful call of his Communications Officer.
"We're coming. I saw Brere back there along the corridor, and Marillo was right behind him. Some of the others are finishing breakfast." He hurried up the gangway. "We're going to have to move some if we plan to lift off at seven. By the look of us, the ships aren't ready yet."
Group Line Chief Praechee made a gesture of resignation. "You know how things are when The Hub starts issuing orders." He did not mention the murdered man.
Protocol Officer Nildi Doninov was from Vladimir and had been to The Hub once in his life. He nodded sagely as if he shared special knowledge, and went on into the ship.
The mission was away by seven-fifteen, which most of the Group Line Chiefs considered a spectacular accomplishment which could only be credited to Leatris Sventur, who kept them all moving, reminding them it was her home planet under attack.
Security had yet to claim the body of Maintenance Supervisor Zeitmein when the mission cast off.
"Course to Lontano," Line Commander Fayrborn ordered his Navigator, checking the surveills as the Semper Rigel vanished behind them in the vast field of stars.
"Laid in and ready," said the Navigator. "Other ships in the mission already coordinated."
Although this was entirely correct and would ordinarily win the Navigator a word of praise for efficiency, Line Commander Fayrborn was already at the limit of his endurance. "Taking a lot on yourself, aren't you? I suppose you didn't think it necessary to ask me anything?"
"No," said his Navigator, a quick-thinking woman from Mere Philomene in her thirties who had been doing her job for more than ten years. "And neither do you," she added without apology. "You told me to handle it, Line Commander. Did you forget?'
In fact, Line Commander Fayrborn had forgotten, but would not admit as much to her. "Still, you ought to have received my order." He stood a little straighten "Keep on with it. Confirm formation of the rest of the mission."
"Check the surveills, why don't you?" Navigator Panmix asked before reading out all the information displayed at her station. "Reiwald on point, Sakibuckt tailing. Suidotal, Daichirucken and Ikemoos in formation immediately behind and four points below."
"Satisfactory," said Line Commander Fayrborn. He turned around toward his ship's Mromrosi and glowered at the alien. "For your report."
"We are not required to submit reports of that nature," said the Mromrosi as if he were unaware of the Line Commanders attitude. "However, I will note your efficiency, if that is so important to you."
"Fool," Line Commander Fayrborn muttered, and did not notice how his bridge officers exchanged uneasy glances. "Prepare for superlight," he ordered briskly as if trying to create a better impression on his officers.
"Prepared," said his Executive Officer Boro Omerrik, recently transferred in from duty on a Broadsword. He was from Buttress and had made the Harriers his home as many other Buttrines had.
"Other mission ships prepared," Communications Leader Gara Gaikhu relayed as the other five signaled readiness.
"Superlight," said line Commander Fayrborn, feeling master for the situation, if only for a few seconds. He held his hands tightly clasped behind his back to keep them from shaking. What had happened to that messenger? When he asked for a complete log of departure reports as they left, there had been no indication at all that Group Chief Willister had ever arrived on the Semper Rigel let alone ever left it. If only, he thought bitterly, his mother had not married a metals-dealer, he might have been eligible for the Grands instead of being stuck forever in the Petits. He had the right talents for the Grands. He belonged in the Grands. His manners were excellent, he was adept at politics and he loved the convoluted games of diplomacy. But thanks to his mother's caprice and the avarice of her family, the nearest he would ever get—without patronage—was the upper ranks of the Petits, which now seemed more remote to him than the most distant radio-galaxy known. How he kept from screaming at the injustice of it, he could not imagine.
"How bad is it on your ship?" The message came very late at night, when only a few crucial stations were manned. Leatris Sventur pushed herself onto her elbow and signaled her Bunter to remain inactive.
"Aside from worries about Fayrborn, not too bad. There's nothing from the Semper Rigel on the murders. We're hoping for word about Lontano." She kept her voice low.
"Yeah. We're getting restive over here," said Group Line Chief Hsuin. "There aren't any Lontaniani on the Suidotal, but we're nervous anyway. I'm sorry it's rough on you."
"Thanks," said Group Line Chief Sventur. She was awake enough to be curious about the call. "Why? What's the matter?"
"Fayrborn's the matter," said Group Line Chief Hsuin bluntly. "We could be going into combat, and we've got him in charge. You know his condition. He isn't getting any better. He's been fondling that stealth saber of his as if it was part of his anatomy. We might as well surrender now and save equipment and lives."
"I can understand why you feel that way," said Group Line Chief Sventur reluctantly. "I feel a little that way myself."
"No kidding," said Hsuin. "There are over forty personnel on this ship, not to mention Bunters and our Mromrosi. I'm responsible for them. I don't like having someone like Fayrborn issuing the orders when I might have to answer for them."
"It bothers me, too," Sventur admitted. 'It doesn't do any good to speculate, but I can't stop. I've got family on Lontano, and I don't know what's happened to them. If we have to rely on Fayrborn to help them . . ." She realized that Hsuin could not see her shrug, but she shrugged anyway.
"I've been talking to the others. To be prepared."
Sventur puckered her lips. "What did you say?"
"Prepared. I said prepared." This admission was hurried. "So far everyone's feeling about the same."
The enormity of that statement shocked Sventur, and she needed a second or two to digest what she had been told. "You're telling me that you're prepared to mutiny?"
"We're prepared to stay alive and try to do something about the planet. We've got orders from the Fleet Commodore, with Most Secret locks, and Fayrborn's not following them, and that worries me," Hsuin corrected. "With Fayrborn in charge, we could be stuck in orbit until the next nova event, or he might decide to take on every Bombard in the Grand fleet, and that would be that."
"The Mromrosii wouldn't permit either of those things, would they?" Sventur asked. "They've stopped other mutinies."
"If Fayrborn doesn't kill them first, I guess they might. But I don't want to have to depend on six fuzzy aliens to keep Fayrborn sane. It's bad enough being under Most Secret orders, and having Fayrborn in charge . . . well—"
Sventur considered this and nodded. "All right. For the sake of argument, let's pretend I agree; we could be goats."
Hsuin was at once reticent. "Oh, no. No hedging. It's too risky for all of us. I need you to give your word that you will not betray us. Fayrborn would have us all killed for insubordination, and who knows what would happen at Lontano."
She leaned her head back. "I can't promise to support you, but I won't give you away. You have my word; I'll keep your confidence," she said at last, realizing that she was more apprehensive about Fayrborn than she had let herself know. "If that's good enough?"
"Fine," said Hsuin, clearly relieved. "That's all we ask. Here's what we've agreed upon: when we reach Lontano, if Fayrborn is behaving then as he is now, Group Line Chief Goriz will take charge; she's next in command. She'll handle everything, and put Executive Officer Omerrik in charge of the Yamapunkt. I don't know what we'll do about Fayrborn, but we won't confine him
unless it's absolutely necessary. I don't think it's going to be so important; no one will listen to him anyway, once we make the change, and it's not as if he'll have anywhere to go. If he's disarmed, he won't be any danger. We'll program the Senior Bunter to look after him, as well as his own Bunter."
"And if we have casualties?" Sventur asked. "We'll need those Bunters. Who's going to take care of the wounded?"
"There are enough Bunters without those two," said Hsuin, unwilling to debate the matter. The usual battle requirements are one Bunter to five wounded."
"But they monitor everything—fuel, ammunition, damage—if things get out of hand, the Bunters'll be spread pretty pogging thin." Sventur waited for an answer.
"We'll manage, believe me," Hsuin assured her.
"If you think so," Sventur said, feeling doubtful.
"Goriz and Praechee are agreed that this would be the best solution for the time being, since we don't know what we're up against." Hsuin paused. "Apanali thinks it would be better if we made certain he couldn't do anything."
"Confine him to quarters during conflict?" Sventur suggested. "That won't look good if the Marshall-in-Chief investigates."
"No, it wouldn't," said Hsuin. "But getting wiped out because of Fayrborn would look worse."
"It would," said Sventur, thinking of her relatives; she could only imagine what they could be going through, and her imagination had been horribly overactive.
"Will you help us?" Hsuin sounded anxious.
"If I can," said Sventur. "I won't get in your way, in any case. And I won't say anything. But I'm putting Lontano ahead of all other considerations. If having Fayrborn around will help my home planet, then he pogging well better be on the bridge. If he bollicks, then lock him up." She was startled at the depth of her emotion, but relaxed as much as she could. "Keep me informed."
"We make dropout tomorrow afternoon," Hsuin reminded her. "We might not have many more chances to talk."
"Leave a coded confidential message with my Bunter. It'll be secure." She began to feel restless, shifting her position in bed as if she were going to get up. "I'll put in a personal code to your voiceprint. Look, I don't want to get caught in a political game with the Grands. I want to get those invaders off Lontano. I want to make sure the planet's safe. That's my job and it's what I'm going to do."
"That's what we want to do," Hsuin promised her.
She paused, then spoke about something that had been bothering her since their mission began. "If it was Willister who got killed back at Semper Rigel, did he communicate with The Hub before he died? It's possible, isn't it, that we're going to look like mutineers in any case? Because there's no record of our orders being delivered?"
Hsuin coughed gently. "It's possible," he allowed.
"So we could be held accountable for anything that happens, and tried as mutineers?"
"There are records, Sventur. Back at the Semper Rigel, there are Most Secret locks on files, and everything we need is there." Hsuin said it with heavy emphasis, as if he himself did not quite believe it.
"But something could happen, couldn't it? Those Most Secret files disappear from time to time, don't they?" She cleared her throat once more. "Don't they?"
There was one other thing Hsuin wanted her to know. "According to Communications Leader Gaikhu on the Yamapunkt, there've been two zaps to Fayrborn from the Grands."
"The Grands?" Sventur repeated in an outraged whisper. "Why would the Grands be sending zaps to this mission? What do the Grands want with Fayrborn? Or Lontano? Or us?"
"We don't know. Gaikhu said she'd try to find out, but she's not making any promises. It's going to get complicated," said Hsuin.
"And we dropout tomorrow afternoon," said Leatris Sventur, feeling very vulnerable.
"Talk to you later," said Hsuin, and coded out.
Six Earth Standard days from the Semper Rigel and they dropped out of their superdrive into speeds reckoned in sub-light units. They were approaching Lontano's system and they did not want to get too close to the planet without making a thorough check on it. The zaps that had followed them with coded messages had warned them that the situation had deteriorated, and that information was sketchy at best. The three mission officers from Lontano did their best to ignore that news.
"So what do you think the Grands are doing here?" Group Line Chief Goriz asked Line Commander Fayrborn as they both spotted the four Grand Harrier Petards hanging in orbit around Lontano.
"Protecting the interests of the Magnicate Alliance," said Line Commander Fayrborn, trying to conceal the envy that filled him. His longing to be with the Grands was so great it was almost like a physical weight pressing on him.
"I thought that's what we're here to do," said Group Line Chief Goriz. "Have you signaled them?'
"Naturally," said Line Commander Fayrborn.
Group Line Chief Goriz cursed silently, knowing that her distress was shared by the other Group Line Chiefs. "And has there been any contact?'
"The Charge of the mission informed me that a dispatch will be ready soon," said Line Commander Fayrborn, grateful that he would not have to make any immediate decisions.
"And what about Lontano? Have you notified Capacitta that we've arrived?' Group Line Chief Goriz was growing impatient.
"The Grands have said we're to maintain silence until they provide us a release." It was lovely to have the authority of the Grands, even vicariously.
"We aren't under orders from the Grands," said Group Line Chief Apanali. "We're under specific order from the Fleet Commodore; with provisos for no superseding. You probably shouldn't have informed the Grands we'd arrived. You weren't instructed to."
Fayrborn was shocked at the notion. "That's ridiculous. Their surveills would pick us up, no matter what. We're all Harriers and we all answer to the same Fleet Commodore, Grands and Petits alike." That last was a nice touch, he decided He watched the faces of his Group Line Chiefs on the surveills and gnawed his lip. "Listen. If we didn't notify them of our arrival, the Grands could consider us potential enemies and commandeer our ships. You all know that."
"Not if we're designated a mission of the Fleet Commodore," said Group Line Chief Sventur. "You know as well as I do, Line Commander, that we're not answerable to the Grands, not those, not any of them." Now that she saw her home planet looming in her surveills, she longed for contact with the surface, to find out how great the damage was, and how many of her family were caught up in the hostilities.
"What the Fleet Commodore says at The Hub is fine. He doesn't have to face aliens attacking this remote place. All he has to do is send his aides with orders." Fayrborn knew how petulant that sounded, but he was not about to apologize or explain.
"You should have waited for them to contact you," said Fayrborn's own Protocol Officer, which infuriated the Line Commander, though the Protocol Officer was a Lontaniano and understandably upset.
"I know my duty, Mister!" Line Commander Fayrborn burst out, and quieted himself as quickly as possible. "If you were in my position—"
"—I would have kept silent; that's what the book requires," said Protocol Officer Diam Bontorn, his face set in condemnation.
Behind Line Commander Fayrborn, Navigator Korliss Panmix made a face and shook her head to show her frustration. "Where do you want the formation to hold, Line Commander?" she asked, although Gilyard Fayrborn was the last person she trusted to decide about that.
"Wait until I hear from the Flotilla Master on the lead Petard," said Line Commander Fayrborn.
"I don't think that's a very wise idea, sir," said Executive Officer Omerrik. "It's my duty to make note of decisions that appear to be contrary to the purpose of our mission, and from where I sit—"
He got no further. "You are relieved, Mister Omerrik," said Line Commander Fayrborn. "Report to your quarters and remain there until your Bunter informs you that—"
The Mromrosi had been watching this without interruption, his mass of curls changing from muted yellow to candy-cane pink
to a muddy russet; his single green eye shone brightly. "It is my impression that your Executive Officer is in the right, Line Commander," he said suddenly.
Executive Officer Omerrik was almost off the bridge when he heard this, and stopped. "Thank you," he told the alien.
"There is no need for thanks, Executive Officer," the Mromrosi said calmly. "This is nothing more than an unfortunate misunderstanding. It is not correct for you to be off the bridge at this time. Therefore I think it might be best if we all review the terms of the sealed orders." His color was now a startling thallo green.
"Why do you say that?" demanded Line Commander Fayrborn. "You shouldn't know about those orders."
The Mromrosi bounced toward him on his eight little legs. "We of the Emerging Planet Fairness Court have access to all pertinent documents and records," he said. "Therefore, I recommend you allow the review, Line Commander."
Line Commander Fayrborn nearly balked; he did not want to listen to anything the Mromrosi had to say, and he wanted Executive Officer Omerrik out of there. Yet he knew he was obliged to pay attention to the Mromrosi. Every Harrier ship had to answer to its Mromrosi. "All right," he growled. "We'll review, as soon as we hear from the Petard."
"Now would be more appropriate," said the Mromrosi. "Tour rank is equal to that of the Flotilla Master. You need not acquiesce to his orders."
"I said we would wait for word from the first Petard." He looked like an obstinate child, his lower lip thrust forward. "I am not going to act without being in accord with the Grands."
"That was not the purpose of your orders, Line Commander," said the Mromrosi. "You were given leave to act without the knowledge or consent of the Grands, and I believe the Fleet Commodore had good reasons for issuing such orders."
None of the Group Line Chiefs had anticipated this interjection of the Mromrosi. They all watched with fascination.
"I want you off the bridge," said Line Commander Fayrborn, and paid no attention to the shock this order created among his crew.
"I will comply, of course," said the Mromrosi, "but not because of your order, which does not apply to any member of the Emerging Planet Fairness Court. I will comply because I perceive my presence contributes to your exacerbated responses." He bounced along on his eight stubby legs, his color fluctuating from beige to olive-drab and back again.
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