Rissa and Tregare (16 page)

"It's about even, all right. Some places you save more material or muscle, some places I do. Might's wel do it your way, for the other four turrets."

"Al right. And now, with the measurements determined, it wil go faster."

"Yes. Don't forget, though-the odd numbers are left-handed with respect to this one, so one accessway can serve a pair. That's what somebody forgot on the one yesterday."

"I will remember. After lunch I will begin on Turret Five."

"Why not do Six and Eight first? They're the same as this one. Then you can transcribe your figures onto the inverted drawing for Five and Seven."

She nodded. "Yes, that is reasonable-for I shall have to change my orientation only once."

"Good. Hey, it's nearly lunch time-let's knock off and go to the galley."

Rissa shook her head. "Let us eat alone, you and I. Here, or in theaircar."

He looked at her. "Flerot and Hannaway-they bothered you?"

"She did not. Nor you-but then you and he-Bran, will you be able to trust that man?"

"
I
don't have to deal with him-he's Vanois' problem, and Raoul wouldn't have him around if he made any real trouble. Unless he insists on it, he has none with me." He shrugged. "But al right-let's go downship. You go ahead to the aircar and I'l bring our lunches there." They descended; he stopped at the galley level and she con-tinued down and out of the ship. Outside the sun's heat felt pleasant, and the air was clear. She climbed into the aircar and waited; soon Tregare brought their trays and they ate. in the afternoon Rissa set to work on the other two even-numbered turrets. Tregare checked her markings on Six, then left for other duties; on Eight she worked alone. When she was done she returned to her morning's location and found the torch crew cutting to her markings. Removals were complete and reconstruction had begun. For a while she watched, but did not interrupt the work. After a time a tall man pushed back his welding mask and said to her, "You marked this one for us, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did."

"Good job-everything fits. A litle different from Tregare's layout, but works just as well." He rubbed his thumb knuckles into his eyes. "Gets to you, watching a weld too long. A break helps." Then, "Tregare realy married you, did he? That's what we heard."

"Yes. Nearly a month ago, in a dueling arena near One Point One. Had you heard that, also?" His harsh bark, she realized, was meant to be a laugh. "No, they didn't tell us that. It's true?"

"Yes. I had just fought a man, unarmed and naked, and killed him. I was bloody and I stank. My face looked as though it had been stepped on-which it very nearly
had
been. That is how we were married." After a moment, the man nodded. "I believe it." With one finger he touched her arm. "Back on Earth, in the Slaughter-house, I knew Tregare. When he was little-too young to take the hell UET put us through. Used to hear him cry at night, the first weeks. Daytimes, though, you'd never know it-cross him then, he'd spit in your eye just for starters." He nodded. "I knew then-if he lived-he'd be a man to lead something. And now I guess he's ready for it."

His look was expectant; she said, "And when he is ready to tel of it, he wil do that, also.'

His hand made a vague salute. "Sure-I know. Well, tell him John Kragen's with him, no mater what or where." She smiled. "I wil, surely." He pushed the mask down and turned back to his work; his torch flared and she had to look away. A quick glance showed her the rest of the work was going wel, so she left and went downship to the control room. There she found Corane Flerot on duty alone. Rissa paused, in doubt whether she should enter, but the woman said, "I talked to Bartol. He didn't mean anything, except standing up for me the same as Tregare for you. He had to-you see? But he's not the man to hold grudges. Wil Tregare see that?"

Rissa looked at her. Her head was uncovered now; grizzled hair, short and uncombed, stood out in crinkled masses. Her scarred face was totally serious. Rissa said, "To Tregare, the matter is done."

"I'm glad. Bartol's courage shouldn't be wasted against his own leader."

Rissa thought, then said, "And what of your own part? To threaten-not me of myself, but Bran Tregare's wife? If Bar-tol had died..."

"Yes. My fault, it would've been. Ms. Tregare--"

"Ms. Obrigo."

"All right. Maybe I get more reckless as I get older and uglier-which takes some doing-I got most of these scars from UET. But I'll watch it from now on. Is that what you meant?"

Rissa nodded. "But I am not angry with you, Corane-only concerned for you."

The woman smiled. "Want to try a little unarmed combat sometime? Practice rules, I mean-nothing lethal or maim-ing."

"If you wish. But why?''

"Maybe to show Tregare you're not all
that
much faster."

"She's fast enough." It was Tregare; Rissa turned to face him.

"We are speaking in friendship. It is all right."

He smiled. "That's good. Corane, I'm not knifing for Bar-tol; tell him that."

"I will. He didn't really want trouble either, you know."

"Sure. We're all on a tight string these days. Once we finish this ship, we can take a rest before Peralta gets here." He put a hand on Rissa's shoulder. "If we're done for today, let's go home. Kenekke's ready."

"Yes. Corane, I am glad we talked, and that all is well be-tween us."

when the aircar was up and Tregare's course set, Rissa relayed the welder's greetings. Tregare nodded. "Kragen, eh? I thought he looked familiar, but I couldn't place him and he didn't say anything. He was finishing at the Academy when I was first sent there-didn't make officer rank, I guess. Quiet fellow-never threw his weight around like some did."

"He remembers you also. Even as a child you impressed him as one who would someday lead."

"Lead?" He shrugged. "We all do what comes to us, I think."

"Of course, Bran. I have noticed how very passive you are."

He laughed and patted her knee. "One for you." Then they did not talk until he landed by the cabin. "I'l check with Hain for messages and be right back."

"All right. By that time I shall be steaming and sodden in the tub."

Inside the cabin she saw in a mirror that her face was soot-streaked. Her hair was dusted with it also; the welding and cutting left a deposit on every uncovered surface. She un-dressed while the tub filed, removed the clasp from her hair and shook it free, and slid gratefully into the hot water.

She was kneading lather into hair and scalp, eyes shut against the stinging liquid that trickled down her forehead, when she heard the door open and close. Tregare's voice rose. "News, Rissa! Peralta's
No Return-it's
a lot closer than we thought-practically here, in fact. His signals are weak because his transmitter's output stage blew, and no spares. But he'll land at One Point One tomorrow or the next day, then move here as soon as he can." She was fumbling for a towel and not finding it. He laughed and handed one to her, and she wiped her eyes free of soap. "Wil we go to the port again, as with Limmer?"

"I don't see the need; Peralta's dealt here before, and I gave him instructions." He started to turn away. "I'll put some-thing on the stove. Any preference?"

She laughed. "Hot and plentiful will suffice." She stood, and rinsed hair and body under the shower while the tub drained. She dried herself quickly, wrapped her damp hair in a towel, put on a robe, and joined Tregare in the kitchen.

"Coffee's ready," he said, "or wine. Take your choice."

"Both," she said, and served herself before she sat. "Bran?"

He looked up from the stew he was stirring. "Yeah?"

"Tonight I will mark the lefthanded drawing, for turrets Five and Seven. But tomorrow I wil finish that work by noon. Aside from checking the crews' progress, what is there for me to do?"

"Well, let's see-I'll be giving the missile and antimissile berths a last lookover, before the sheet-metal work seals off the structural members. You might hang in with me, check the drawings against the finished job, so you can mark cuts for those on other ships. Which reminds me-"

He went to the main room and rummaged in his desk. "No

-they're not here." He came back and served up the stew

-along with bread, cheese, and some fruit-and sat to eat.

She tasted a bite and found it too hot, blew on it and sam-pled it again. "This is very good. But-
what
isn't here?"

"Drawings for ships of
No Return's
class-the nose sec-tion's all different. I may have prints on the scoutship-if I didn't forget, and leave 'em on
Inconnu.
If I did, we'll wait until Peralta gets here and draw our own."

"Or we could join him earlier, at the port."

He shook his head. "No use to that. You can't see what you need to until we pul some plates off-and we won't do that until the ship's at Base Two."

"I see." She ate in silence; when she was done, she poured more wine and coffee for both. She cleared her side of the table and spread the two complementary drawings across it. "I wil mark this now, and you can check it for me."

"All right." Glancing up, she saw that he watched her.

After the first few markings, she caught the knack of transposing from one drawing to its mirror image, and the chore was done sooner than she had expected. She stood. "There, Bran. Is it correct?" He turned the sheets to face him and she saw how he com-pared them-one index finger to each, moving simultaneously as he glanced from one to the other. Her forty minutes of work were inspected in hardly more than five. He nodded. "No mistakes." Then; "I need a shower."

"Very well. I will finish drying my hair now." When she had done so and brushed it, she took off her robe and got into bed. When Tregare came out of the bathroom she threw the covers back, and waited.

"That's where I was hoping you'd be," he said, and went to her. He was in no hurry, nor was she; laughter and dalliance persisted for some time before they joined. Afterward he said, "Every time's different, isn't it?"

"Yes." Her fingers moved along his back, brushing a welted scar. "Sometimes it is difficult to wait until the next." He laughed. "This particular wait doesn't have to be so long. About like last night. Al right?"

" Oh, yes-I can manage that quite nicely."

next morning on
Carcharodon,
Rissa laid out the two re-maining turret sites. For part of the afternoon she stayed with Tregare, studying missile berth arrangements-then inspected the work in progress on the turrets she had marked the day before. She found two minor errors, but none of consequence; the corrections took only a short time.

Back at Base One, Tregare searched the scoutship and found drawings applicable to
No Return.
After dinner they spread these on the table and began planning modifications.

"The main difference in the
No Return
class," Tregare said, "is that instead of sixteen main longitudinal beams they used twelve heavier ones for the same size hul. The gaps are wider, but not
quite
wide enough to put two turrets in one of them. So instead of eight projectors, four missiles, and four countermissiles, it'l have to be six, three, and three. You see it?" She checked a measurement, then said, "The missiles, yes. But our projectors-Bran, I am not a structural engineer-but see here? At the nose, where al twelve beams join. Must it be that way?"

"It's overdesigned, sure. But what-?"

"Here,
just below the turret sites-why did they not add another girder ring and omit every second beam from there to the tip? In that case we
could
squeeze in extra turrets."

He looked more closely. "Hey! I'll have to run the stress factors through the computer, to be sure of it-but I think you've given Peralta some extra firepower!"

He took the drawing to the scoutship; a half hour later he returned. "Well, it works! Want to start figuring the changes?"

"I have already begun." She continued, calculating how best to convert the removed beam segments into a ring-shaped
member-and at what point-with least wastage. Then she began adding and rearranging the necessary runs of power and control cables. She was not concerned with the circuitry itself, but only with physical access. When she finished the proposal, Tregare looked through her notes and sketches. He suggested two minor changes and approved the rest.

The work had taken longer than she realized; it was past time to be asleep.

Now on
Carcharodon
she had litle to do. She finished next morning's inspections in an hour, then accompanied Tregare on the remainder of his own rounds. A litle ahead of the usual morning's break, they went to the galley. Over coffee she said, "Except for making a last inspection this afternoon before we leave, I have no more work today. Might it be a good time to learn the projector controls, if Captain Limmer would alow me to use a turret on
Left hand Thread!"

Tregare swallowed coffee, then spoke. "Sure. I'm free for a while, long enough to set up a good run of simulations and turn you loose with them."

As they left, others began to come in; Rissa greeted Corane Flerot and saw that Tregare had stepped aside to shake hands with Bartol Hannaway. That residue of worry left her mind.

Downship, across the field to Limmer's ship and then up to its control room, she walked beside Tregare. Holding a sheaf of papers, Limmer met them. "Just going below to look for some spare equipment the men can't find. Nothing critical, but it says here we're supposed to have them." His warped smile came briefly; Rissa no longer saw it as a sneer. "But what can I do for you?"

Tregare explained. "Do you have simulations already pro-grammed, or could I set up a few for her?" Limmer moved to a control panel, touched switches and observed a digital readout. "There's a few on here, set up to pipe into Turret Eight-mostly straightforward, chase or be chased. You might want to add some trickier stuff-skew ap-proaches, hit-and-run, multiple targets and the computer being indecisive-you know?" Tregare nodded; Limmer turned to leave.

"Thank you for letting me use your turret, captain."