[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
That s all.
Very good, sir, said Brabham, conveying the impression that, as far as
he was concerned, it wasn t.
Rather to Grimes s surprise the target date was met.
A cheerless dawn was breaking over the Base as the ramp was retracted,
as the last of Discovery s airtight doors sighed shut. The old ship was as
spaceworthy as she ever would be, and she had somewhere to go.
Grimes, in the control room, spoke into the microphone. Discovery to
New Maine Aerospace Control. Request outward clearance. Over.
All clear for your liftoff, Discovery. No air traffic in vicinity of Base. No
space traffic whatsoever. Good hunting. Over.
Thank you, Aerospace Control. Over.
Base to Discovery. This was Denny s voice. Good hunting. Over.
Thank you, Commander Denny. Give my regards to the great snakes.
They can have their public convenience back now. Over.
I wish you were taking the bastards with you, Grimes. Over.
Grimes laughed, and started the inertial drive. Discovery shuddered,
heaving herself clear of the apron. She clambered upward like an elderly
mountaineer overburdened with equipment. No doubt MacMorris would
complain that he should have been given more time to get his innies into
proper working order. Then the beat of the engines became louder, more
enthusiastic. Grimes relaxed a little. He took a side-wise glance at Tangye,
in the co-pilot s seat. This time, he noted, the navigator had done his sums
before departure; a loosely folded sheet of paper was peeping out of the
breast pocket of his uniform shirt. And what target star would he have
selected? Hamlet, probably, in the Shakespearean System, out toward the
Rim Worlds. It was a pity that Discovery would not be heading that way.
The ship pushed through the low overcast as though she really meant it,
emerged into the clear stratum between it and the high cirrus. Blinding
sunlight, almost immediately dimmed as the viewports automatically
polarized, smote through into the control room, and, outside, made haloes
of iridescence in the clouds of ice particles through which the vessel was
driving. She lifted rapidly through the last tenuous shreds of atmosphere.
Clear of the Van Allens, sir, reported Tangye at last.
Thank you, pilot, acknowledged Grimes. Then, to Brabham, Make
the usual announcements, Number One. Free fall, setting trajectory, all
the rest of it.
Take over now, sir? asked Tangye, pulling the sheet of notes from his
breast pocket.
Grimes grinned at him. Oh, I think I ll keep myself in practice, pilot.
It s time I did some work.
The ship was in orbit now, falling free about New Maine. Grimes
produced his own sheet of paper, glanced at it, then at the constellations
patterned on the blackness outside the viewports. He soon found the one
that he was looking for, although why the first settlers on this planet had
called it The Mermaid he could not imagine. Their imaginations must
have been far more vivid than his. His fingers played over the controls and
the directional gyroscopes began to spin, and the hull turned about them.
Sir, said Tangye urgently. Sir!
Yes, pilot?
Sir, Hamlet s in The Elephant. From here, that is
How right you are, Mr. Tangye. But why should we be heading toward
Elsinore?
But, sir, the orders said that we were to make a sweep out toward the
Rim.
That s right, put in Brabham.
I have steadied this ship, said Grimes coldly, on to Delta Mermaid.
We shall run on that trajectory until further orders orders from myself,
that is. Number One, pass the word that I am about to start the
Mannschenn Drive.
As you say, sir, replied Brabham sulkily.
Deep in the bowels of the vessel the gleaming rotors began to turn, to
spin and to tumble, to precess out of normal space-time, pulling the ship
and all her people with them down the dark dimensions, through the
warped continuum. There was the usual fleeting second or so of temporal
disorientation, while shapes wavered and colors sagged down the
spectrum, while all sound was distorted, with familiar noises either
impossibly high in pitch or so low as to be almost inaudible.
There was, as always, the uncanny sensation of déjà vu.
Grimes experienced no previsions but felt, as he had when setting
trajectory off Lindisfarne, a deep and disturbing premonition of
impending doom.
Perhaps, he thought, he should adhere to his original orders. Perhaps
he should observe the golden rule for modest success in any service: Do
what you re told, and volunteer for nothing.
But whatever he did, he knew from harsh experience, he always ran into
trouble.
Chapter Thirteen
« ^ »
The ship settled down into her normal Deep Space routine regular
watches, regular mealtimes, regular exercise periods in the gymnasium,
and regular inspections. In many ways, in almost all ways, she was like any
other ship; what made her different, too different, was the resentment
that was making itself felt more and more by her captain. The short stay
on New Maine, with hardly any shore leave, was in part responsible. But
there was more than that. Everybody aboard knew what Grimes s original
orders had been to use New Maine as a base and to make a sweep out
toward the Rim without intruding into what the Rim Worlds already were
referring to as their territorial space. (It was not Federation policy to do
anything that might annoy those touchy colonials, who, for some time,
had been talking loudly about secession.) And now everybody aboard knew
that Discovery was headed not toward the Rim but in the general
direction of the Waverley sector. Grimes, of course, was the captain, and
presumably knew what he was doing. Grimes was notoriously lucky but
luck has a habit of running out. If this cruise, carried out in contravention
to admiralty orders vague though those orders had been turned out to
be fruitless, Grimes would have to carry the can back but his officers,
none of them at all popular with high authority, would be even less likely
to achieve any further promotion.
Grimes could not help overhearing snatches of conversation. The old
bastard is putting us all up Shit Creek without a paddle. And, He s
always been fantastically lucky, but he s bound to come a real gutser one
day. I only hope that I m not around when he does! And, He must think
that he s a reincarnation of Nelson turning a blind eye to his orders!
With the reply, A reincarnation of Bligh, you mean!
This last, of course, was from Brabham.
And if Bligh, thought Grimes, had carried a trained and qualified
telepath aboard Bounty he might have been given warning of the mutiny
that was brewing. He, Grimes, did have such a telepath aboard Discovery
but was Flannery willing to bend the Rhine Institute s ethical code? If he
were, it would be far easier to keep a finger on the pulse of things. But
Flannery& his loyalties, such as they were, were to his shipmates, much as
he disliked them all, rather than to the ship and her commander. He was
bred of stock with a long, long record of rebellion and resentment of all
authority. Even his psionic amplifier one that Grimes, ironically enough,
had persuaded the telepath to accept seemed to share its master s
viewpoint.
Yet Grimes did not dislike the whiskey-swilling psionic communications
officer and did not think that Flannery actively disliked him. Perhaps,
carefully handled, the man might be induced to spill a bean or two. In any
case, Grimes would have to spill the beans to him, would have to tell him
about Davinas and the suspected Lost Colonies. But did Flannery know
already? PCOs were not supposed to pry, but very few of them were able to
resist the temptation.
He made his way down to the farm deck, to the squalid cubbyhole
where Flannery lived in psionic symbiosis with his amplifier. The man was
more or less sober, having, over the years, built up a certain immunity to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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That s all.
Very good, sir, said Brabham, conveying the impression that, as far as
he was concerned, it wasn t.
Rather to Grimes s surprise the target date was met.
A cheerless dawn was breaking over the Base as the ramp was retracted,
as the last of Discovery s airtight doors sighed shut. The old ship was as
spaceworthy as she ever would be, and she had somewhere to go.
Grimes, in the control room, spoke into the microphone. Discovery to
New Maine Aerospace Control. Request outward clearance. Over.
All clear for your liftoff, Discovery. No air traffic in vicinity of Base. No
space traffic whatsoever. Good hunting. Over.
Thank you, Aerospace Control. Over.
Base to Discovery. This was Denny s voice. Good hunting. Over.
Thank you, Commander Denny. Give my regards to the great snakes.
They can have their public convenience back now. Over.
I wish you were taking the bastards with you, Grimes. Over.
Grimes laughed, and started the inertial drive. Discovery shuddered,
heaving herself clear of the apron. She clambered upward like an elderly
mountaineer overburdened with equipment. No doubt MacMorris would
complain that he should have been given more time to get his innies into
proper working order. Then the beat of the engines became louder, more
enthusiastic. Grimes relaxed a little. He took a side-wise glance at Tangye,
in the co-pilot s seat. This time, he noted, the navigator had done his sums
before departure; a loosely folded sheet of paper was peeping out of the
breast pocket of his uniform shirt. And what target star would he have
selected? Hamlet, probably, in the Shakespearean System, out toward the
Rim Worlds. It was a pity that Discovery would not be heading that way.
The ship pushed through the low overcast as though she really meant it,
emerged into the clear stratum between it and the high cirrus. Blinding
sunlight, almost immediately dimmed as the viewports automatically
polarized, smote through into the control room, and, outside, made haloes
of iridescence in the clouds of ice particles through which the vessel was
driving. She lifted rapidly through the last tenuous shreds of atmosphere.
Clear of the Van Allens, sir, reported Tangye at last.
Thank you, pilot, acknowledged Grimes. Then, to Brabham, Make
the usual announcements, Number One. Free fall, setting trajectory, all
the rest of it.
Take over now, sir? asked Tangye, pulling the sheet of notes from his
breast pocket.
Grimes grinned at him. Oh, I think I ll keep myself in practice, pilot.
It s time I did some work.
The ship was in orbit now, falling free about New Maine. Grimes
produced his own sheet of paper, glanced at it, then at the constellations
patterned on the blackness outside the viewports. He soon found the one
that he was looking for, although why the first settlers on this planet had
called it The Mermaid he could not imagine. Their imaginations must
have been far more vivid than his. His fingers played over the controls and
the directional gyroscopes began to spin, and the hull turned about them.
Sir, said Tangye urgently. Sir!
Yes, pilot?
Sir, Hamlet s in The Elephant. From here, that is
How right you are, Mr. Tangye. But why should we be heading toward
Elsinore?
But, sir, the orders said that we were to make a sweep out toward the
Rim.
That s right, put in Brabham.
I have steadied this ship, said Grimes coldly, on to Delta Mermaid.
We shall run on that trajectory until further orders orders from myself,
that is. Number One, pass the word that I am about to start the
Mannschenn Drive.
As you say, sir, replied Brabham sulkily.
Deep in the bowels of the vessel the gleaming rotors began to turn, to
spin and to tumble, to precess out of normal space-time, pulling the ship
and all her people with them down the dark dimensions, through the
warped continuum. There was the usual fleeting second or so of temporal
disorientation, while shapes wavered and colors sagged down the
spectrum, while all sound was distorted, with familiar noises either
impossibly high in pitch or so low as to be almost inaudible.
There was, as always, the uncanny sensation of déjà vu.
Grimes experienced no previsions but felt, as he had when setting
trajectory off Lindisfarne, a deep and disturbing premonition of
impending doom.
Perhaps, he thought, he should adhere to his original orders. Perhaps
he should observe the golden rule for modest success in any service: Do
what you re told, and volunteer for nothing.
But whatever he did, he knew from harsh experience, he always ran into
trouble.
Chapter Thirteen
« ^ »
The ship settled down into her normal Deep Space routine regular
watches, regular mealtimes, regular exercise periods in the gymnasium,
and regular inspections. In many ways, in almost all ways, she was like any
other ship; what made her different, too different, was the resentment
that was making itself felt more and more by her captain. The short stay
on New Maine, with hardly any shore leave, was in part responsible. But
there was more than that. Everybody aboard knew what Grimes s original
orders had been to use New Maine as a base and to make a sweep out
toward the Rim without intruding into what the Rim Worlds already were
referring to as their territorial space. (It was not Federation policy to do
anything that might annoy those touchy colonials, who, for some time,
had been talking loudly about secession.) And now everybody aboard knew
that Discovery was headed not toward the Rim but in the general
direction of the Waverley sector. Grimes, of course, was the captain, and
presumably knew what he was doing. Grimes was notoriously lucky but
luck has a habit of running out. If this cruise, carried out in contravention
to admiralty orders vague though those orders had been turned out to
be fruitless, Grimes would have to carry the can back but his officers,
none of them at all popular with high authority, would be even less likely
to achieve any further promotion.
Grimes could not help overhearing snatches of conversation. The old
bastard is putting us all up Shit Creek without a paddle. And, He s
always been fantastically lucky, but he s bound to come a real gutser one
day. I only hope that I m not around when he does! And, He must think
that he s a reincarnation of Nelson turning a blind eye to his orders!
With the reply, A reincarnation of Bligh, you mean!
This last, of course, was from Brabham.
And if Bligh, thought Grimes, had carried a trained and qualified
telepath aboard Bounty he might have been given warning of the mutiny
that was brewing. He, Grimes, did have such a telepath aboard Discovery
but was Flannery willing to bend the Rhine Institute s ethical code? If he
were, it would be far easier to keep a finger on the pulse of things. But
Flannery& his loyalties, such as they were, were to his shipmates, much as
he disliked them all, rather than to the ship and her commander. He was
bred of stock with a long, long record of rebellion and resentment of all
authority. Even his psionic amplifier one that Grimes, ironically enough,
had persuaded the telepath to accept seemed to share its master s
viewpoint.
Yet Grimes did not dislike the whiskey-swilling psionic communications
officer and did not think that Flannery actively disliked him. Perhaps,
carefully handled, the man might be induced to spill a bean or two. In any
case, Grimes would have to spill the beans to him, would have to tell him
about Davinas and the suspected Lost Colonies. But did Flannery know
already? PCOs were not supposed to pry, but very few of them were able to
resist the temptation.
He made his way down to the farm deck, to the squalid cubbyhole
where Flannery lived in psionic symbiosis with his amplifier. The man was
more or less sober, having, over the years, built up a certain immunity to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]