McCollum - GIBRALTAR STARS (38 page)

Sometimes, Susan wasn’t available. As an unattached female on a ship where pairings had long since become more or less permanent, she had an active social life. When she was seated at the other end of the mess, laughing at the jokes of some
Yeovil
officer, Felicia Godwin took the duty of commiserating with Mark.

She was available on the final night before making Sutton orbit, and for once they talked about something other than Mark’s growing worry about his wife.

The conversation began innocently enough. “So, I suspect you will be happy to get back to Earth,” he said after taking a sip of coffee from a drinking bulb.

“I guess so,” Susan said. Tonight it was her turn to be morose.

“What’s wrong?” Mark asked.

She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again.  After fifteen seconds’ pause, she said, “I don’t know.  Logically, I should be ecstatic to get out of these vacuum-packed coffins and back to blue sky and green hills.  But I’m not.”

“I repeat, what’s wrong?”

She smiled wanly.  “Can it be that I’m beginning to like life onboard ship, Mark?  Maybe I’m scared to go back to all of that teeming randomness, where life isn’t regulated and people do pretty much anything they want.”

“It sounds like you have become institutionalized.”

“What is that?”

“It happens when a convict spends too much time in prison.  After awhile, he doesn’t want to leave.” Mark looked around and made an expansive gesture that took in most of the ship’s mess.  “Lord knows, this qualifies as prison-like.”

Susan laughed.  “You know what Doctor Samuel Johnson said about ships and prisons.”

“What?” he asked.  In fact, he knew the quotation quite well, but wanted to get her to talking.

She put on her best British accent and quoted,
“Being in a ship is being in a jail, with the chance of being drowned.”
For a moment, she sounded like Lisa.

He suspected his chuckle didn’t fool her.

They sat in silence for awhile, sipping from their bulbs.  Finally, Susan seemed to come to a conclusion.

“I’d like to ask you a favor.”

“Sure, anything.”

“Will you intercede with the Admiral for me?”

“Intercede how?”

“I know I’m scheduled to be shipped home now that we’ve botched our last mission.  I don’t want to go. I want to stay out here.”

“Why, for God’s sake?”

“Sabator.  It changed me.”

“It changed all of us,” Mark replied. “What has that to do with staying beyond The Crab?”

 “As you well know, I wasn’t very happy when the Navy drafted me. I made my unhappiness known practically every day during training. If Trojan Horse hadn’t needed artists so badly, they would have kicked me out of the Academy. Hell, in normal times, they probably would have court-martialed me.

“I was especially unhappy that first day in New Mexico. If Lee Pembroke hadn’t threatened me, I wouldn’t have signed their silly secrecy agreement. I’m glad I did. Trojan Horse allowed me to do something important with my life. Still, I didn’t feel very ‘Navy.’”

Mark chuckled. “The same thing happened to both Lisa and me. For us it was thinking about how close we came to letting Sar-Say escape at Klys’kra’t. That is why we joined after Parliament decided to make a fight of it.”

“I guess it was looking after all those injured people aboard
Sasquatch
for me,” Susan said. “I like the feeling I had, even when I thought we were all going to die. I want to feel that way again, and not by sitting in a chair back on Earth in front of a computer. Maybe I just want to take revenge on the Broa for trying to kill me.

 “Could you talk to the Admiral for me? I would like to be assigned to a ship, one that will take part in the attack when it comes.”

Mark hesitated. He chose his words with care before answering. “I don’t think the fleet has much need for an artist, Susan.”

He’d meant to break the tension.  It didn’t work.  She merely looked more forlorn. “That is why I need you to intercede for me.  I’ll take anything.  I just want to feel like I’m making a difference—personally.  I don’t want to be one of those ‘They also serve who only sit and wait’ people any longer.”

“All right,” he said.  “I’ll see what I can do.”

#

Admiral Landon stood when Mark Rykand was ushered into his office at Brinks Base. “Damned good to see you back, Commander. I read your report. It sounds like you had a close call.”

Mark shrugged. “If you mean being aboard a hulk headed straight for an angry enemy world, then yes, I had a close call. Ravi Sulieman is the one to credit with our survival. If he hadn’t spent five days at max gees, we would have been vaporized.”

Landon ushered Mark to a small conversation area, poured two drinks into low-gee glasses, and handed one to his guest. The liquid was amber and one sniff told Mark not all of the vacuum stills on Sutton were out of operation. He took a sip — the taste was vaguely reminiscent of brandy — and set the glass down, making sure the top was closed.

“Sir, any word from
Galahad
yet?”

“No. Should there be?”

“They were going to depart Sabator shortly after we did. It’s been five days and they haven’t reported in. I’m afraid something has happened to them.”

Landon frowned and keyed the intercom on his desk.

“Masters!”

“Yes, Admiral”

“Call operations and have them flag
TSNS Galahad
. As soon as they report the outer system, I want a priority message sent to me and Commander Rykand.”

“Yes, sir.”

The admiral sat back in his own chair and said, “Now tell me what happened. Forget the niceties you put in the report.”

Mark reported what he had gleaned from Felicia Godwin.

“You’re saying the Horse sucked energy out of your drive generators? How? By induction?”

“That’s what Felicia theorized.”

“Then what would have kept it from doing the same thing to a Broan cargo ship?”

“It’s possible being inside the hull would isolate it, but superlight generators are not my area of expertise. You’ll have to ask an expert.”

The admiral continued to ask probing questions: How it was that Mark ended up in command, the enemy’s tactics, the actions of the crew after the explosion. In the same vein, he asked:

“How did the crew react when they realized General Order Seven was in effect?”

“There were a lot of deep gulps, sir, but everyone accepted the necessity. They knew what was at stake if the Broa captured us alive or dead. They worked their asses off to see that didn’t happen.”

“They didn’t hold out hope for rescue?”

“We were out of communications and deep in enemy space. It didn’t occur to us that rescue was an option.”

Landon nodded. “And so, with your backs against the wall and the lions at the gate, you decided to go out like men.”

“I wouldn’t put it so poetically. We realized we had been dealt a shitty hand and we played it.”

Laughing, Landon said, “Damn, Mark! You did good for a pampered playboy. Did you know I almost tossed you out the airlock that day you came barging into PoleStar?”

“I got that impression from our first meeting, Admiral.”

“Glad I didn’t. One should always short-circuit first impulses. Has anyone made you aware of the… shall we say, controversy… that has accompanied your promotions?”

“No, sir,” Mark said, suddenly deflated.

“You and Lisa earned your commissions en route on the second Long Jump. A lot of officers, academy graduates, that is, view that sort of like obtaining your degree by mail order. It just isn’t done, you know. The carping has been muted where Lisa is concerned. She’s our very best translator, and it is traditional for specialists to be given rank to acknowledge their expertise.

“A former playboy who broke every rule in the book to learn the Solar System’s biggest secret is another thing altogether in their eyes. Even after we adopted your strategy to fight the Broa, there were those who argued against my promoting you.”

“I’m glad I didn’t know that, sir.”

“I’m glad you didn’t know it either, because it is pure vacuum dust. You have been promoted because of your performance at Klys’kra’t, Pastol and during three Long Jumps. To season you, I’ve jumped you through a whole series of subordinate positions. You handled them well, earned the respect of your commanding officers, and have used your wits to good effect. If you had failed to measure up, the promotions would have ceased immediately.

“I am telling you this because I want you to understand the Navy has politics, too. And though you have earned your stripes, the next jump is a big one. With your background, it is highly unlikely you would ever command a ship.”

Landon smiled that evil grin of his and paused to take a sip of his drink.

“Oh, right! You have already commanded one, haven’t you? And, you have served with distinction. So, I want to warn you that it is my intention to find you a ship. We don’t have anything available just now, but something should open up soon. You saw that traffic jam overhead. It’s worse at Nemesis. There is always a certain amount of churn in the force structure.

“What do you think of that, Commander?”

“I’m honored, Admiral. I just hope I can live up to your expectations.”

“I know you will. That was a damned difficult situation you found yourself in. It’s hard to promulgate a course of action that will most likely end in your death. Most people couldn’t do it. You proved that you can. I don’t know how many of my officers would have done as well.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Is there anything else we need to discuss before I let you go?”

“Yes, sir.  Susan Ahrendt.”

“What about her?”

Mark recounted his talk with Susan aboard
Yeovil
and her desire to get into the fight rather than return to Earth.

Landon listened passively. When Mark finished, he asked, “Do you think she has what it takes to serve aboard a warship?”

“She has psychological toughness, sir. She proved that at Sabator. Dr. Hamjid has put her in for a commendation for her work with the wounded. She’s smart and a fast learner. With a little training, she can handle any job, except engineering.”

“Would you want her as a member of your crew when you get your ship, Commander?” Landon’s tone was the unchanged, but his expression betrayed his increased interest in the answer.

“Of course.”

“What about your wife? Would she object?”

“I beg your pardon, Admiral?”

“There’s been scuttlebutt, Commander.”

Inwardly, Mark squirmed. Outwardly, he locked eyes with Landon. “There’s always scuttlebutt, Admiral. The only relationship Susan Ahrendt and I have is that we almost died together. And if you give me a ship, I won’t be consulting my wife on personnel matters.”

Landon nodded. “Message received. Let me pull her records. It’s unusual for someone on the science side to ask for a transfer to the real navy. I approve in principle, but I won’t saddle a captain with an unsuitable rating, not even as a favor.”

“Of course not,” Mark said, irritated at the implication that he would suggest otherwise.

“Go get yourself settled,” Landon said. “I would like you to join me for dinner this evening in my quarters. We have a small group that plays poker on Tuesday nights. We’re looking for new blood.”

#

Mark had been concerned at
Galahad
’s tardiness when he arrived at Brink’s Base. At the end of three weeks, he was frantic.

He began to have nightmares. He now knew how his wife felt at the edge of the Sabator System, unable to help him. That was historically the way it had always been. The husband went off to war and the wife stayed home and worried. Now the situation was reversed and he wasn’t sure he had what it took to be the passive spouse. An old saying kept running through his head:
They also serve who only sit and wait.

His life slipped into an unsatisfactory routine. Admiral Landon attached him to the Fleet General Staff, updating attack plans for the offensive they planned, if and when they found the Broan home world.

After eight or ten hours spent staring into a computer screen, he ate a hasty dinner and returned to his quarters. Each night, just before turning in, he did a check of the ship registry and then retired to his bunk. As soon as he woke the next morning, he checked the ship registry again, and during lunch. Each time he was disappointed. No sign of
Galahad
.

At the beginning of the fourth week, Mark decided he needed to do something beside check the orbit list. With visions of a mechanical breakdown stranding Lisa and the rest of the cruiser’s crew, Mark rehearsed a speech he planned to give Admiral Landon. He wanted a ship to return to Sabator to make sure
Galahad
wasn’t still there.

Of course, if they weren’t there, they were lost in the infinite blackness between the stars, and that meant they were doomed, if not already dead.

Mark was running through his speech in front of the mirror for the third time when he was interrupted by the buzzing of his communicator. He noted that it was Admiral Landon.

“Yes, sir?”

“You can climb down from that pin cushion you’ve been sitting on, Commander. Operations just passed me an encoded message from
Galahad
. They are two billion kilometers out and inbound. Everyone aboard is fine and Lisa sends you her love.”

Mark’s sigh was audible over the comm. “Thank you, sir! What took them so long?”

There was a long pause before Landon said quietly, “The answer to that question is classified. Divulge it to anyone before I am ready and you will find yourself back on Nemesis. Got me, Commander?”

The change in tone surprised Mark. He gulped and said, “Yes, sir.”

“
Galahad
is late because she took a little side trip.”

“A side trip, sir?”

“It was your wife’s idea. I’m sure she will tell you all about it the next time you two share a pillow, so I won’t keep you in suspense…

“
Galahad
has found the Broan home world.”

#

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Two sparks appeared against the black of a star field and faded, followed by one more.