Mission Zero (Fourth Fleet Irregulars) (19 page)

‘All right.  Good.  Take your hands right off the controls and just listen first, okay?  Don’t touch anything yet.  In a minute, I’m going to ask you to open up the manual override screen.  We’re going to change the setting on the thruster controls.  What’s happened, see, is that your controls are set to ‘safety off’ , which has turned off the automatic compensating system and allowed the ship to go into a spin, which I guess happened after you used the lavatory, right?’

‘Yes!  Yes, it did!’  The woman sounded amazed.  ‘How did you know
that
?’

‘It’s a design issue on starseekers,’ said Martine, with a reproving glance at a rating who was guffawing.  ‘What happens is that their lavatories fire out waste with an explosive decompression which puts a spinning force on the ship.  If it isn’t compensated for automatically by thrusters, you get this fast rotation.  It’s not dangerous in itself, but it does knock out your comms unless another ship gets into synchronised spin with you as we have.  So, just stay with me here, do exactly as I tell you and we’ll have you stabilised again in less than a minute, all right?’ 

She talked the pilot through a straightforward series of commands and sure enough, when she told her to engage the ‘safety on’ control, the little starseeker stabilised itself at once, firing thrusters and settling onto an even keel.  Minnow immediately took station alongside, and what Mako was already recognising as routine proceeded as before.  Permission was requested and granted for an officer to go aboard on ‘safety advisory’ and Martine reported, ‘snatch team away’.  This time, however, Buzz reported a few minutes later that the pilot had declared the ship as salvage, which did cause some surprise on the command deck.

‘Sorry, Mr Burroughs, please confirm, did you say it has been declared salvage?’  Lt Fishe queried.

‘Affirmative.  Pilot is requesting emergency passage on first available vessel returning to Chartsey, and is adamant in refusing all other options.  She insists on declaring the ship salvage and voiding all rights of ownership over it.’

Martine looked at the skipper, who had raised his eyebrows slightly.

‘You’d best bring her aboard,’ he said, which Buzz acknowledged.  There was some delay, however, which Buzz informed them was due to the pilot insisting on packing her personal belongings and bringing them with her. 

She came aboard, in fact, with three suitcases, and was revealed to be a very glamorous middle-aged lady who did not seem the type to be on a solo intersystem trip on a small yacht.  The situation, however, became clear after she was brought to the command deck.  Embracing Martine Fishe with fervour and telling her ‘Thank you!  Thank you!  You saved my
life!’
, she became rather more coherent when introduced to the skipper, who asked her if she really understood what she was doing in declaring the yacht salvage.

‘You do know that the insurance won’t pay out on that?’ he clarified.  ‘As a voluntary abandonment of a spaceworthy ship, with no medical grounds, no insurance would pay out on it.’

‘I don’t care,’ she said, and indeed, the costliness of her clothing, jewellery and luggage made it apparent that she was someone who might dispose of a forty thousand dollar yacht without financial hardship.  The fireheart diamond on her finger was undoubtedly worth more than that just in itself.  ‘I got it in the divorce,’ she explained, adding with a vicious undertone, ‘I should have sent it for scrap then, but I thought I might as well get some use from it.  I’ve been out to Capital Gate any number of times on it, without any problems, but he did it, didn’t he?  He
rigged
it, changed the controls, so that would happen!  He could have
killed
me!’

‘Safety controls can be reset by all kinds of procedures,’ the skipper told her.  ‘And I’m afraid that even if it could be proven that your ex-husband had changed the setting on that one, it might be malicious but it was not life threatening.  And ultimately, of course, you, as the registered pilot, are responsible for checking all such settings both prior to launch and in flight.’

‘I had a club pilot for the launch,’ she told him indignantly, as if he should have known that.  ‘So that makes
her
responsible, doesn’t it?’

‘Did she give you a handover report?’  Alex queried, at which Buzz cut in, gently.

‘The report showed safety on for thruster compensation at launch,’ he informed the skipper.  ‘It was changed three hours and forty seven minutes post-launch.’

‘But I didn’t…’  The starseeker owner started to protest and then stopped, eyes widening.  ‘There was a thing that came up,’ she recalled, ‘wanting to do diagnostics, and I clicked the ‘fix all’ when it was done.  But that was
yesterday
.’

‘Yes, that would have been it.’  Alex said blandly.  ‘You have been running without thruster stabilisation since then, till, how can I put this, the lavatorial waste system fired out solid matter.’

From the mess deck came the sound of heroically stifled laughter.  Even Mako, as he understood what had happened, was obliged to look down in order to maintain composure.  He couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for her as a fellow civilian.  It could only be humiliating to be told that your ship had gone into a spin because you’d turned off the compensating thrusters and had a poo.  But at the same time, he felt amazed that anyone so very obviously incompetent to operate a starship could have headed off out into space in one.

 ‘Oh,’ she said, and then, armoured with the massive arrogance of the truly stupid, dismissed that impatiently.  ‘Well, I don’t
care
why it happened!  I never want to set foot on that stinking rotten little tug ever again!  And if that’s supposed to be ‘finding yourself’ then I have done all the finding I intend to, thanks!  I don’t want any more to do with it!  Just get me on a civilised ship heading back to Chartsey.  Do whatever you want with it!  Keep it, sell it, blow it up if you want, I don’t care!  I waive all rights to it and I’ll sign whatever you
want
.’

The skipper, however, was still not prepared to allow her to just do that and insisted on having Dr Tekawa ensure that she was unharmed by her experience and in a frame of mind to be making legally important decisions.  She wasn’t happy about it but Alex von Strada made it clear that that was how it had to be, so she went off to sickbay.  Everyone was watching the skipper.  The corvette’s most junior officer, indeed, came up onto the command deck.  Sub-Lt Dan Tarrance was also on the tagged and flagged programme.  Minnow was his first shipboard assignment since graduating.  He was in the third month of a five month assignment to the ship to see best practice in the highest rated ship of its class.  He also had connections in the Second Fleet Irregulars R&D Division and had called in favours to get them the new computer hardware that was the envy of the Fleet.

‘Permission to ready a missile, sir?’ he asked the skipper, as hopeful as a puppy that had scented treats.

‘No, Mr Tarrance,’ the skipper said, though tolerantly, and explained, ‘having a live missile locked onto it might be construed, if there are legal disputes later, as intimidating pressure.  So all due process, Sub-Lt.  And rest assured, if she does let us have it, you may scuttle it.’

‘Oh,
thank
you, sir!’  The young officer bounced off joyfully and everyone else grinned, too, with happy anticipation.  All except Mako, who was staring at the skipper in astonishment.

‘You’re
serious
, Skipper?’

‘Certainly.’  Alex said, with a twinkle in his eyes.  ‘We can’t leave an abandoned ship superlight in a shipping lane,’ he pointed out.  ‘It would constitute a shipping hazard.  If we were heading in from patrol and it wasn’t going to slow us down too much, I might put a salvage crew aboard, maybe, but I am not going to send any of my crew back to Chartsey, that just isn’t an option.  We might conceivably be able to find a civilian ship prepared to put a salvage crew aboard it, but there’s a ton of paperwork if you do that.  Taking it out of space lanes and scuttling it – blowing it up – is the quickest, safest way to deal with it.  And it’s one less starseeker out here, which is a result in my book.’

Mako found himself laughing, though he was astounded, too.  ‘You can do that, though?  Just use missiles and blow up a ship?’

‘Oh, we’ll only need one, unless Mr Tarrance is really off his game,’ said the skipper, to much mirth from the crew.  ‘But yes, I have the authority to fire live missiles and guns, Inspector.  This is a warship, after all, and safe disposal of an abandoned ship is well within my right to authorise live fire.  If we had more time, we might rig it to the best evasive manoeuvres it can do to give our gun crews some target practice.  But I really can’t justify that when there are bound to be other ships on this route needing help.  So we’ll just have to settle, providing the lady
does
sign the salvage papers, for a quick missile.  Laser cannon could destroy it easily enough but that’s messy, you see, always leaves a scatter of debris that is a navigation hazard in itself.  So we’ll use a superlight missile, which reduces it to tachyons.’

The yacht’s owner did sign the salvage papers, which the skipper accepted on official confirmation from the ship’s medic that she was in a fit condition, legally, to do so, and the missile was remarkably quick.  The relief crew they’d had aboard set the starseeker on the course ordered by the skipper to take it out of space lanes.  By the time they had their crew back and Sub-Lt Tarrance confirmed missile ready to fire, they were already some minutes out of the traffic flow. 

‘Missile authorised for fire,’ Alex said. 

Seconds later the starseeker flared into just the same kind of silent puff of bright light that Mako remembered from the news when a yacht had collided with a tug some years before.  Everyone on the Minnow cheered, even the former owner of the yacht crowing with satisfaction at seeing it destroyed. 

‘
Thank
you!’ she said, and added, again with that underlying vindictive note.  ‘I
wish
I could see his face when he finds out!’

‘Our pleasure, ma’am,’ said the skipper, pleasantly, and then, with a touch to a companel, ‘Good job, Mr Tarrance.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ the Sub responded, still laughing.  

‘And Lt Fishe,’ the skipper’s smile commended her, too, for a job well done.  ‘Perhaps you’d offer Ms Armingham the hospitality of the wardroom till we can get her aboard a liner.’  As the Lt smiled agreement, the skipper informed the now ship-less passenger, ‘We’ll try to get you aboard the Ruby Star, which should be a couple of hours up-route, all right?’

‘Thank you,’ she said, and went off happily enough, then, with Lt Fishe, the skipper relieving her of the watch so that she could look after their guest.

Mako, feeling less inclined than ever to go to the wardroom for dinner, was glad to accept the offer of a ‘bite’ on the command deck.  This, he discovered, was traditional watch fare, a hot baguette and a mug of soup served in freefall safe containers.  They went down very well indeed, with a pleasant feeling of being part of things, as Alex and Buzz had the same.  They did, as Buzz confirmed, normally have a proper wardroom dinner in the evenings but hot rolls and soup were always an option.

‘Fair warning, though,’ said Buzz, with a twinkle.  ‘If you miss more proper meals than Dr Tekawa feels is justified, he will come and look reproachfully at you and give you leaflets about stress, digestion, and unbalanced chi.’

Mako laughed, and felt that he had rarely been happier in his life than he was, right now, just having
so
much fun, and in such good company, too.  This, he felt, was Adventure.

That opinion had not changed when they located the Red Line liner Ruby Star two hours later.  During those two hours, they’d responded to three more incidents, one of which had been a flashing distress call and the others requests for assistance at the routine check-in with them. 

The distress call, to Mako’s amazement, had been because the ship concerned had embarked upon their journey to Sharfur with insufficient supplies of sugar.  It was not a little starseeker, that, but a very big, expensive corporate yacht named the
Tanek Enterprise IX.
 There was a former Fleet rating working aboard as deckhand and it was he, to his evident mortification, who was sent over in one of their shuttles to fetch the sugar.  The actual skipper was a corporate type who was clearly not in any zone of listening to a common little oik of a crewman trying to tell him that it was out of order to initiate a distress call because they were short on sugar.  Nor, come to that, was he prepared to listen to a common little oik of a corvette skipper telling him that the distress call should only be used in situations of real concern, not because you were low on unimportant supplies.

‘You wouldn’t say it was unimportant if you had to cope with my partner if he doesn’t get his sugar fix, haw haw!’  He breezed over the skipper.  ‘But many thanks for your assist, Skipper.  I shall certainly mention how helpful you were at the Admiralty – I know the Third Lord personally, you know.’  A lofty, patronising manner.  ‘Do, please, tell me your name so that I can let him know how civil you were, put in a good word for you, haw haw!’

Everyone on the command deck looked astounded.  The yacht skipper must be pretty clueless not to have recognised the Minnow or noticed their ID.  Then Alex gave a grin that, just for a moment, was one of evil glee.

‘Shipmaster,’ he said, evenly, ‘Alexis von Strada.’

There was a taut, frozen moment, with everyone on the command deck looking at the skipper and an air of almost breathless anticipation hanging in the air.