Ride the Star Winds (60 page)

“Very well. You will call for us then at . . .”

“Shortly after 1730, sir.”

“Thank you. Would you care to stay for lunch?”

Sullivan was obviously tempted but he said, “No thank you, sir. Commander Dravitt would like your reply as soon as possible so that the necessary arrangements may be made.”

She, Paymaster Lieutenant Commander Selena Shaw, extricated herself from the tangle of bed sheets and limbs (half of these latter belonging to herself) and padded to the well-stocked bar set against one wall of her bedroom. Grimes watched the tall, naked blonde appreciatively. She returned to the bed bearing two condensation-bedewed glasses of sparkling wine.

“What,” asked Grimes, “is a girl like you doing in a place like this? A highly competent officer attached to Sub-Base Pleth, the last resting place of all the Survey Service incompetents? Well, some of them, anyhow.”

She laughed, her teeth very white in her tanned face. (She was one of the few officers of the Sub-Base who made regular use of the solarium; artificial sunlight was better than none at all.)

She said, without false modesty, “There has to be one competent officer, even in a sub-base like this. And I just happen to be it. Or her.”

Grimes sipped his chilled wine. “And what am
I
,” he continued rhetorically, “doing in a place like this? First of all, I never thought that a high and mighty sub-base commander would condescend to entertain a mere tramp skipper. Secondly, I was expecting a rather boring evening. I never dreamed that it would finish up like this.”

She said, “Actually the invitation was Droopy Delia’s idea. You’ve met her now, talked with her, so your opinion of her probably coincides with mine. A typical wife for a typical passed-over commander, like Davy Dravy, swept with him under the carpet to a dump like Pleth. Social ambitions that will never now be realized. A plumpish blonde—and now she’s rather more than plump—getting spliced to an ambitious young lieutenant and seeing herself, after not too many years, as an admiral’s wife. An admiral’s wife she’ll never be—but she kids herself that she’s running this sub-base. Shortly after you’d set down she came barging into my office. My office, mind you. Davy Dravy was there—well, after all he is the sub-base commander—to discuss various matters and she started browsing through the papers on my desk. ‘David,’ she squeaked, ‘have you seen who’s master of this tramp, this
Sister Sue
?’ He grumbled back, ‘What is it to me what star tramp skippers call themselves?’ She said, ‘It’s Grimes. John Grimes. The Grimes.’ Davy Dravy was less than impressed. ‘So bloody what?’ he snarled. ‘He was emptied out of the Service, wasn’t he? And not before time.’ She said, ‘Yes. He was emptied out of the Service—or, according to some, he resigned before he could be emptied out. And now he’s a shipowner. And he’s been a planetary governor. At least he hasn’t finished up with a deadend appointment, frozen in rank, like some people.’ Davy mumbled something about this being just your bloody luck. Droopy Delia said that she wished this famous luck would rub off on to some people she knew. And so it was decided to invite you to dinner. Or she decided to invite you to dinner. And then I took pity on you—or, as it’s turned out, it was enlightened self-interest. Davy and Delia just aren’t the Universe’s best hosts. I threw in my two bits’ worth. ‘Why not,’ I asked her, not him, ‘issue a general wardroom invitation to the captain and officers. Our own officers, and the few civilian spouses, will enjoy having somebody fresh to talk with . . . .’”

“To talk with,” said Grimes. “And . . . .”

“Yes. As you say, and as we’ve been doing, and . . . Apart from ourselves, I think that there has been rather more than just talking. But I don’t think that Tony Cavallo and Billy Brown, our two prize wolves, got any place with those two cadets of yours. Odd looking wenches, somehow, but very attractive. And, despite their names, I don’t think that their ancestors were Irish. I may be wrong, but I think that they had eyes only for you. And me, when I was making my invitation rather obvious. If looks could have killed . . . .”

“Mphm,” grunted Grimes, embarrassed.

“Talking of their eyes . . . .” she went on. “Is there anything odd about them?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, I was in charge of picking you people up and supplying the native guides for the junior officers. Your Ms. Kelly and Ms. Byrne arrived at the base officers’ quarters well before the rest of the crowd—and they had nobody to guide them. And the fog was as thick as the armor plating of a Nova class battlewagon.”

“Probably,” said Grimes, “they regarded it as a sort of navigation test, got themselves headed in the right direction and then set off hopefully.”

“Then they were lucky. It’s not a straight line walk. There are two bridges to negotiate, and that mess of alleys and cross alleys through the workshops and stores.”

“Mphm,” grunted Grimes.

He finished his drink, she finished hers. It would soon be time for him to get back to his ship so as to spend what remained of the night in his own bed. But before he got dressed there were things to do better done naked.

At last it was time for him to say good night—or, more exactly, good morning. She threw on a robe and took him out to where the ground car, with native driver, was awaiting him.

He said, “I’ll see you at about 1100 hours, then, Selena. Drinks before lunch. And I think I can promise you a rather better meal than tonight’s dinner was.”

She said, “It should be. Aboard your ship you’re the boss.”

They kissed a long moment and he boarded the waiting vehicle.

* * *

She arrived aboard
Sister Sue
shortly after 1100, supported, almost carried, by Ensigns Cavallo and Brown. She was dazed, bleeding profusely from a deep cut on the forehead. The efficient Melinda Clay was called upon to administer first aid and, after some delay, the sub-base’s medical officer was in attendance.

At last Grimes was able to find out what had happened.

Selena had decided to walk from the sub-base to the ship, escorted through the fog by one of the native guides. Suddenly, without warning, she had been struck by a heavy missile. The guide had run to the ship to fetch help.

“I suppose, sir, that it was our fault,” said Ensign Cavallo unhappily. “We should not have encouraged them. But, after all, sir, they’re your officers, aboard your ship. . . .”

“Encouraged them? How?”

“We came on board for morning coffee. In the wardroom Ms. Kelly and Ms. Byrne were giving a demonstration of throwing weapons, using ashtrays and such, making them sail around and come back to their hands. I asked if this technique would be effective over a distance. They said that it was. So we all went down to the after airlock, and Ms. Kelly threw a rather thick glass saucer of some kind into the fog. We expected that it would come back, but it didn’t. . . .”

“Ms. Kelly,” asked Grimes severely, “Ms. Byrne, is this true?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Shirl innocently. “But we had no idea that there would be anybody out in the fog. After all, if Ms. Shaw had been making her approach by ground car we should have seen the glare of the headlights . . . .”

“And so, quite by chance,” said Grimes, “your random missile inflicted grievous bodily harm on Lieutenant Commander Shaw—”

And with that he had to be content. He could prove nothing—and, even if he could, what could he do about it? Shirl and Darleen were essential—or so he had been told by Damien—to the success of his mission. Selena had been no more than a pleasant diversion.

Chapter 13

The work of discharge
and then of loading went smoothly. Grimes was able during his time in port to return some of the hospitality which he and his people had received from the sub-base personnel. He kept a close watch on the Terrible Twins, a joint nickname which Shirl and Darleen had quite suddenly acquired, making no further attempt to entertain Selena Shaw aboard his ship. (But her own quarters were quite adequate for purposes of mutual entertainment and she did not, as she could quite well have done, put him off by complaining that she had a severe headache.) And then, with cargo well-stowed, with all necessary in-port maintenance completed, it was time to lift off. Nobody board the ship was sorry, even though there were a few (very temporarily) broken hearts both in the sub-base and aboard
Sister Sue
. Sleth was such a dismal planet. Even New Otago would be better. Even though there was a shortage of bright lights on that world the scenery was said to be quite spectacular and the atmosphere was usually clear enough for it to be appreciated.

So
Sister Sue
lifted, ungumming herself from the omnipresent mud that, despite the thrice daily deployment of high-pressure hoses, inevitably crept over the spaceport apron. She clattered aloft through the fog, through the overcast, finally broke free into the dazzling sunlight while the last tenuous shreds of the Sleth atmosphere whispered along her pitted sides.

There was the usual trajectory setting routine, after which the old ship, her Mannschenn Drive running as sweetly as that Space-Time-twisting contraption ever ran, was falling down and through the warped dimensions toward the New Otago primary. Deep space watches were set and Grimes went down to his day cabin, asking Mr. Steerforth to join him there. As soon as the chief officer was seated and had been given a drink to nurse, served by the glittering Seiko, Grimes used the intercom to talk to the chief reaction drive engineer. “Ms. Scott, I’ve noticed that my shower is giving trouble. I almost got scalded this morning. Could you send Ms. Perkins up to fix it? She’s off watch, isn’t she?”

“I’ll come myself, Captain. You know what Calamity Cassie’s like.”

“I do, Flo. But as fourth engineer she’s supposed to be the ship’s plumber. It’s time that she started to earn her pay.”

“Well, it’s your shower, Captain. It’s you that’s going to get boiled or flash-frozen . . . .”

And so, after a wait of only a few minutes, Ms. Perkins presented herself, attired for work in overalls that had once been white but which now displayed a multitude of ineradicable grease stains, carrying a tunefully clinking tool bag. Only her teeth, which her cheerful grin displayed generously in her black face, were clean and very white.

“
Sit down
, Cassie,” ordered Grimes.

Before she could do so Seiko produced, as though from nowhere, a towel which the robomaid spread over the upholstery of the chair. The fourth engineer looked admiringly at the beautiful automaton and murmured, “I’d love to have the job of taking you apart and putting you together again, honey.”

“That’d be the Sunny Friday!” snapped Seiko.

“My father,” said Grimes, “improved upon the original programming, making additions from his own vocabulary.”

“And so Seiko,” said Cassie, “is no more than a sort of mechanical parrot. That I will not believe. She’s as human as you or me.” She grinned. “There are even rumors that you and she have a beautiful relationship.”

“I am the captain’s personal servant,” said Seiko stiffly. “Just that and nothing more. Unfortunately a relationship of a carnal nature would not be possible.”

Grimes’s prominent ears flushed angrily.

He said, “That will do, Seiko. Just fetch Ms. Perkins a drink, will you?”

“Yassuh, Massa Grimes. One Foster’s lager a-comin’ up, Missie Perkins.”

“And now, Ms. Perkins,” said Grimes as soon as Seiko had left them, “have you decided upon how you will carry out your act of sabotage?”

“Yes, sir. It will be quite simple. A disastrous leakage from the main water tank into the reaction drive engineroom. The bulkhead will give way—an area of it will have been treated with Softoll—to give it its trade name—which, as you know loosens molecular bonds in any metal. According to my calculations the application will take twelve hours to produce the desired effect. When you let me know the day, sir, when you wish the accident to happen I shall apply the Softoll at 1000 hours, during my watch. The flood will happen at 2200 hours—again during my watch. I shall panic. My one motivation will be to get rid of all that water. After all, there’s electrical machinery that could be damaged, and I might get drowned. I’ll open the dump valves.”

“Make sure, Cassie,” Steerforth told her, “that you get into your emergency suit before you start getting rid of everything of a fluid nature in the engine room. After all, you’ll be throwing out the atmosphere along with the bath water.”

She grinned. “I look after my reputation. Things always happen around me, never to me.”

Grimes asked, “But won’t the cause of the so-called accident be obvious? Flo and Juanita aren’t fools, you know.”

She told him, “It will be put down to metal fatigue—and it won’t be the first case of metal fatigue in this rustbucket.”

“Are you referring to my ship?” asked Grimes stiffly. “It’s bad enough to have you doing things to her without having to listen to you insulting her.”

“Sorry, Captain. But unless you can think of some other kind of trouble that will force us to deviate to Salem, I shall have to do things to your ship. But I’ll try to keep the damage down to a minimum.” She finished her beer. “And now,” she went on brightly, “shall I fix your shower for you?”

“No,” said Grimes. “No, repeat and underscore, NO.”

Chapter 14

Grimes, of course,
knew what was going to happen, and when.

At 2145 hours he was in the control room, having a chat with the officer of the watch, Tomoko Suzuki. As he frequently did just this before retiring for the night, the third officer did not suspect that anything was amiss or about to go so. The topic of conversation was such that he almost forgot his real reason for being there, which was to ensure that the Mannschenn Drive was shut down at the first sign of trouble in the inertial drive engineroom. The dumping of tons of water would mean that the mass of the ship would be suddenly and drastically reduced—and any change of mass while running under Mannschenn Drive could be, probably would be, disastrous. There were stories of vessels so afflicted being unable to re-enter normal Space-Time or being thrown back into the remote past. Nobody knew, of course (except for the crews of those ships) but there had been experiments and there was a huge amount of theoretical data which Grimes could not begin to understand.