Rissa and Tregare (15 page)

"My imagination's more into weapons than food-but so's yours, I expect."

"I will do it; you have worked harder."

"Al right. Here-I'l take care of the notes and drawings." He evened each stack neatly and put them on the main room's smal desk. Then he set the table, poured two glasses of wine, and sat while she set food to cook.

"What are the other two weapons jobs, Bran? You have missiles, I know."

"Yes-fusion and neutron heads, two of each. Short-haul drives souped up to fifty gee, while they last. Missiles and mis-sile defense, you understand, are control-room jobs. You feed your target to the computer by holding it on-screen-if the missile's fired, it'll follow and seek. Computer control acti-vates your launch button only if range and relative velocities are right for a hit-but again, there's an override to widen tolerances so you can take a desperation shot if it's that or go under." Standing, she sipped her wine and nodded. "The combina-tion of human and computer control-its design impressed me." She stirred a pot of steaming vegetables a moment, then said, "And the defenses, Bran?"

"Partly automatic-if the computer, the detectors, sense anything incoming at missile-grade acceleration, projectors facing the right way lock on it and fire continuously. Tuning and convergence have to take their chances-there isn't
time
for adjustments-the damned things are coming too fast!

"The rest of it-wel, far as I know, it's untested. Sort of a countermissile-two kinds, really-one with a warhead and the other blows a cloud of powdered metal to make like a ship and fool the attacking missile. We mount two of each-could use more, but where's the space for it?

"These can't be steered; you point 'em and that's that. I can't guess how many gees the drive pulls, but I looked at the drawings and if it lasts more than three seconds I'll eat it for dessert. Either kind blows when the drive does, or by prox-imity." He shook his head. "Frankly, I'm not counting on those gadgets much-either option-in a tight passage."

"Then I do not wish to work in missile defense." She sniffed the air and decided dinner was ready. "Just a mo98

ment." She brought the food to the table; they served them-selves. "I think-the projectors, Bran."

"That puts you out in a turret by yourself. I'd rather have you in Control with me. There's stil the missiles themselves."

"I will learn and practice both, and then decide."

He shrugged. "Fair enough, I guess."

they ate in silence for a time; then he said, "What happened since I left the Lodge?" She told him of her latest visit to the Hatchery and her meeting with Bleeker. "And Liesel has as good as approved Sparline's marriage to Ernol. Oh-and Hawkman suggests that perhaps he and Liesel may consider going to Earth-buy-ing a ship of their own!" She reached and touched his hand. "It is because you are going there, Bran-and it was first Hawkman's idea." She laughed.

"Initially, Liesel was quite shocked."

"Yeah." Tregare grinned. "And then she saw the chances to be had there, if I can shake UET up enough. Wel, it's fine with me if she winds up owning the whole damned planet! It's in a lot worse hands, peace knows..."

"The idea is only tentative, Bran-they must talk with you."

"Sure-timing and al-wel, I'm wiling. The more I think about it, the better I like it. There's a problem, though."

"I am sure there are many. Which do you mean?"

"Erika's group. I'd hoped to work with them-sent mes-sages with feelers, guarantees of cooperation. As Tregare, of course-no hint of the relationship. But if Liesel is there, too..."

She pushed her empty plate aside and refilled her glass. Swirling the wine gently and watching the light refracted through its ruby tinge, she said, "You do not think the two groups could work as allies?"

"For a while, maybe. After that, I'd worry about Hulzein-eat-Hulzein."

"Yes." She nodded. "And, Bran-I am a protegee of
each
faction. I would not wish to see either hurt."

"No, you wouldn't. Me, though-and Erika-you can't expect me to have tender feelings toward the heirs of that skinny old harpy." He grinned. "Yes, I saw her once. Liesel dressed me as a serving-boy and said if I kept my mouth shut, I could see my dreaded Aunt Erika. I have to admit she impressed the hell out of me; even in memory, she still does." He tapped fingers against the table top. "I wish, just once I could have faced up to her. We might have got along, at that-if I'd lived through it."

Rissa was shaking her head. "It is too bad, yes, that you could not have met as equals. But, Bran-'skinny old harpy'
-Erika?

Slim, yes-but wiry, not skinny. Do you know-when she was seventy she gave me my final testing in unarmed combat? And came close to beating me, overall."

"I'm not surprised. Liesel was hel on wheels when I was a kid; I guess she hasn't kept in practice, here. Come to that, I don't keep it up too wel myself-in space, especially."

She looked at him. "Bran, are you in need of exercise?"

"Combat practice so soon after dinner? Peace, no!"

'' I was not thinking of combat.''

Smiling, he stood and laid his robe over the back of the chair. "I was wondering when we'd get to that." He came around the table to hold her. "Let's exercise."

Two days without him had affected her more than she had realized. Her body moved without conscious intent-fiercely, violently. Then, in almost a scream, she cried triumph.

Later they went through Tregare's drawings together, she explaining what she understood of them and he adding or cor-recting when necessary. When they were done, they talked for a time. Finaly Rissa stood and moved to hold his head against her.

"Bran? It is not so late-is it?"

He laughed. "I'd've asked if you hadn't."

This time was more quiet for her, and gentle; climax brought fulfillment and peace. In a very few minutes, then, she slept.

at breakfast next morning, Tregare said, "How'd you like the pass, eastbound? Forgot to ask, yesterday, since obviously you got here al right."

"I-I hate to tell you," but she began.

Almost immediately he interrupted. "Clouds? You went in with an overcast? You should have turned back."

"Perhaps. But I thought-" She continued. This time he heard her out. Then he shook his head.

"I tried that trick once-going in high. Damned downdraft caught me off guard-time I got straightened up, I was too low and too slow to make it. All I could do was turn downhill to get speed. You reacted faster, to get away with that dive and still climb the pass."

"Or-from time to time the downdraft may vary in strength."

"Maybe. Anyway, your luck was in. But I hope you won't try it again under those conditions!"

"Unless it is necessary, I will not, certainly."

"All right." He pushed back his chair and stood. "Time we got dressed." He stacked the dishes to soak and joined her in the front room. "We'll take Anse along today; Hain can do the watch here."

"You brought Deverel up with you last night?"

"Sure. He gets lonesome down at Two-same as I do."

"Yes. Well, I am nearly ready, except-what do I need to take with me? I mean-will we return here tonight?" She twisted her hair into a knot atop her head and secured it with a clasp.

"And every night-unless something comes up and we have to work straight through. I don't expect that, but it could hap-pen."

He called the scoutship; Kenekke was ready and met them at the aircar. Tregare took the controls. They rode in silence until close to landing; then Tregare said, "Remember, both of you-it's Tari Obrigo joining our work force today. I'm sure of the people I
know
on these ships, but there's some new to me."

"Yes."

"Sure, captain."

"All right." He landed midway and to one side of the path between the two ships, where crates were being moved from
Lefthand Thread
to
Carcharodon.
"Tari, you come with me. We're starting the fourth turret; I want you to mark the cuts for the torch men-in the existing structure and on the girders to be installed. Then spot the holes for the new bulkheads and the projector mounting itself. I'll check you first time 'round -after that,
you'll
be checking the work."

She nodded. "Yes, I can do those things. I will need the drawings, though-I do not remember all of it yet."

"Hell, yes, you'll use drawings! I wouldn't try it from memory myself, and I
drew
the damn things!" She touched his hand. "Bran-perhaps I do not joke enough..."

He looked at her, then grinned. "All right-you got me. Well, let's get to it." They entered
Carcharodon
and climbed upship. Kenekke left them to join three men sorting out piles of components in a storage area. As they passed the control room, Vanois and Limmer stopped arguing over a circuit diagram long enough to give them brief greetings.

Then they neared the top of the ship and Rissa could see the magnitude of the work-some nearly completed and some only begun. She saw that structural members had been cut away and replaced to fit around turret and missile positions without weakening the ship. "Tregare-seeing this in three di-mensions-it gives me a
feel
for the work, that the drawings could not."

"I know; it's the same with me. Well, this is where we start on Turret Four, and here's your chalk and measuring tape. This end sticks where you put it-" He demonstrated. "-unless you twist it or flick it, like this. So one person can do all of it."

"Yes. I knew of these, but had not used one before." She stood, looking at the sections to be removed.

"Lacking a place to anchor a power hoist, we must move everything by hand?" He nodded. "Then there must be more cuts-no need to measure them precisely-to divide the girders into manageable weights."

"Almost right. More cuts, yes. But we reuse as much as we can, so you cut the right sizes to fit the new structure."

"Of course. Well-in that case-" She looked at a drawing, then to Tregare, catching him in a half-smile.

"Your design uses that junction of four girders, unchanged-merely cut free and inverted, then rotated a quarter turn?" He nodded, and she climbed onto a protruding beam to take a measurement. "Then I shall begin here, mark to remove the junction, then work from there toward the perimeter cuts. Do you agree?"

"That's about the way I've been doing it."

"Al right." She began work-measuring, marking, climb-ing from point to point. As the morning progressed, the air grew hotter; when she paused to check a drawing, she was sweating freely. "No," she said, "that is wrong. I can lessen the waste by taking the longer segment
here
and using
this
for three shorter ones." Taking Tregare's silence for assent, she rubbed away a few chalk marks and measured anew.

She had lost track of time when Tregare said, "Everybody else is stopping for coffee and what al. You want to?" With the back of her hand she wiped her forehead. "Yes, I would enjoy that." As she followed him downship she noticed her muscles had grown tense; she shrugged and moved her neck, relaxing. "That is harder work than I would have thought." Half-turning as they entered the galley, he said, "It is when someone concentrates on it as hard as you do." Side by side at the end of a long table they found two seats. Rissa sat and Tregare brought coffee. She did not know the man and woman who sat facing them. The woman-dark, scar-cheeked, hair hidden under a bandanna, spoke harsh-toned.

"You're Tregare's new wife?"

"I did not know he had an old one. But yes, we are mar-ried."

The woman laughed. "Didn't mean it that way, but that's al right-you caught me out. I'm Corane Flerot, Second Hat here on
Carcharodon.
I don't marry anymore, but I wish you luck. You look like you've been working. What at?" Rissa explained and Corane Flerot nodded. "That's a help. I'm no good at that kind of thing, myself. Navigation, yes-but not building from drawings." She paused, then said, "You going to space with him?"

Tregare answered. "Yes. Probably as a turret operator."

Fingers clawed, the woman's hand darted at Rissa's face. By reflex, Rissa caught the wrist and thrust it aside; she stopped her countermove when she realized the other made no further effort. Puzzled, she saw Flerot smile, as she said, "Good-you've got the reflexes for it, all right."

Rissa released her grip. "That was not, perhaps, the safest way to find out."

"Maybe not-quick, though." Flerot touched her scarred cheek. "Does this look as though I always do things the safe way?"

Tregare showed the small knife his right hand held. "Usually not as dangerous as this was, Corane. You're alive this instant because I knew my wife is faster than you are." He put the knife away. "Well, nothing shaken. More coffee, Tan?"

"Yes-a little, please." Tregare rose, but now the man across from him-tal, thin, with a lined face-stood also.

"You don't know me, Tregare, except a name on a roster-Bartol Hannaway. But Corane and I are freemated. If you killed her, then captain or no captain, it's your death or mine."

Tregare's hand on Rissa's shoulder kept her from speech. He said, "You making some kind of challenge, Hannaway?"

"No. Just stating a fact, so you'll know."

"All right, I've heard it. Now here's one for you-you'll live longer-both of you-if you don't play stupid games with people who have work to do."

"Tregare!" said Rissa. "All of you-this goes too far-I am not angry, nor was I hurt. Once I saw it was a test, only, the danger was past."

Corane shrugged. "My fault-I'm sorry. Now calm it, Bar-tol."

The man muttered an apology and left the table; the woman followed. Rissa stood and said, "I do not want more coffee after all. Shall we return to our work?"

"All right. Let's go." They climbed again to the turret site, and she continued measuring and marking, occasionally changing her mind and revising the way the cuts would be made. When she finished, she turned to him and waited.

"Is it satisfactory?"

"Yes. A little different, in places, from how I've done it-but looks like a standoff for minimizing waste. You want to mark your intermediate cuts on the drawing now, and com-pare?" She had scribbled figures on the girders themselves, so she did not have to remeasure to mark the print. Then they looked at it alongside a copy he had marked.