Upon a Sea of Stars (69 page)

The Man Who Sailed The Sky

It was fortunate, Sonya always said, that the Federation Survey Service’s
Star Pioneer
dropped down to Port Stellar, on Aquarius, when she did. Had not transport back to the Rim Worlds, although it was by a roundabout route, become available it is quite possible that her husband would have become a naturalized Aquarian citizen. Seafaring is no more (and no less) a religion than spacefaring; be that as it may, John Grimes, Master Astronaut, Commodore of the Rim Confederacy’s Naval Reserve, Honorary Admiral of the Ausiphalian Navy and, lately, Master Mariner, was exhibiting all the zeal of the new convert. For some months he had sailed in command of an Aquarian merchantman and, although his real job was to find out the cause of the rapidly increasing number of marine casualties, he had made it plain that insofar as his own ship was concerned he was no mere figurehead. Although (or because) only at sea a dog watch, he was taking great pride in his navigation, his seamanship, his pilotage and his ship handling.

“Damn it all,” he grumbled to Sonya, “if our lords and masters wanted us back they’d send a ship for us. I know that
Rim Eland
isn’t due here for another six weeks, on her normal commercial voyage—but what’s wrong with giving the Navy a spot of deep space training? The Admiralty could send a corvette . . .”

“You aren’t all that important, John.”

“I suppose not. I’m only the Officer Commanding the Naval Reserve, and the Astronautical Superintendent of Rim Runners . . . Oh, well—if
they
don’t want me, there’re some people who do.”

“What do you mean?” she asked sharply.

“Tom told me that my Master Mariner’s Certificate of Competency and my Pilotage Exemption Certificates are valid for all time. He told me, too, that the Winneck Line will give me another appointment as soon as I ask for it. There’s just one condition . . .”

“Which is?”

“That we take out naturalization papers.”

“No,” she told him. “No, repeat, capitalize, underscore, no.”

“Why not, my dear?”

“Because this world is the bitter end. I always thought that the Rim Worlds were bad enough, but I put up with them for your sake and, in any case, they’ve been improving enormously over the past few years. But Aquarius . . . It’s way back in the twentieth century!”

“That’s its charm.”

“For you, perhaps. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed our voyage in
Sonya Winneck
—but it was no more than a holiday cruise . . .”

“An odd sort of holiday.”

“You enjoyed it too. But after not too long a time you’d find the life of a seafaring commercial shipmaster even more boring than that of a spacefaring one. Do you want to be stuck on the surface of one planet for the rest of your life?”

“But there’s more variety of experience at sea than there is in space . . .”

Before she could reply there was a tap on the door. “Enter!” called Grimes.

Captain Thornton, the Havenmaster of Aquarius, came into the suite. He looked inquiringly at his guests. “Am I interrupting something?” he asked.

“You are, Tom,” Sonya told him. “But you’re welcome to join the argument, even though it will be the two of you against me. John’s talking of settling down on Aquarius to continue his seafaring career.”

“He could do worse,” said Thornton.

Sonya glared at the two men, at the tall, lean, silver-haired ruler of Aquarius, at her stocky, ragged husband whose prominent ears, already flushing, were a thermometer of his rising temper. Grimes, looking at her, had the temerity to smile slightly, appreciatively. Like the majority of auburn-haired women she was at her most attractive when about to blow her top.

“What are you grinning at, you big ape?” she demanded. “You.”

Before she could explode Thornton hastily intervened. He said, “I came in with some news that should interest you, both of you. I’ve just got the buzz that the Federation’s
Star Pioneer
is putting in to Port Stellar. I know that you used to be in the Survey Service, John, and that Sonya still holds a Reserve commission, and it could be that you’ll be meeting some old shipmates . . .”

“Doubtful,” said Grimes. “The Survey Service has a very large fleet, and it’s many years since I resigned . . .”

“Since you were asked to resign,” remarked Sonya.

“You were still in your cradle, so you know nothing about the circumstances. But there might be some people aboard that Sonya would know.”

“We shall soon find out. I have to throw a party for the Captain and officers—and you, of course, will be among the guests.”

Grimes knew none of
Star Pioneer
’s officers, but Sonya was acquainted with Commander James Farrell, the survey ship’s captain. How well acquainted? Grimes felt a twinge of jealousy as he watched them chatting animatedly, then strolled over to the buffet for another generous helping of the excellent chowder. There he was engaged in conversation by two of the
Pioneer
’s junior lieutenants. “You know, sir,” said one of them, “your name’s quite a legend in the Service . . .”

“Indeed?” Grimes felt flattered.

The other young man laughed—and Grimes did not feel quite so smug. “Yes, sir. Any piece of insubordination-justifiable insubordination, of course—is referred to as ‘doing a Grimes . . .’ ”

“Indeed?” The Commodore’s voice was cold.

The first young man hastened to make amends. “But I’ve heard very senior officers, admirals and commodores, say that you should never have been allowed to resign . . .”

Grimes was not mollified. “
Allowed
to resign? It was a matter of choice,
my
choice. Furthermore . . .” And then he became aware that Sonya, with Commander Farrell in tow, was making her way toward him through the crowd. She was smiling happily. Grimes groaned inwardly. He knew that smile.

“John,” she said, “I’ve good news.”

“Tell me.”

“Jimmy, here, says that I’m entitled to a free passage in his ship.”

“Oh.”

“I haven’t finished. The Survey Service Regulations have been modified since
your
time. The spouses of commissioned officers, even those on the Reserve List, are also entitled to a free passage if suitable accommodation is available.
Star Pioneer
has ample passenger accommodation, and she will be making a courtesy call at Port Forlorn after her tour of the Carlotti Beacon Stations in this sector of space . . .”

“We shall be delighted to have you aboard, sir,” said Farrell.

“Thank you,” replied Grimes. He had already decided that he did not much care for the young Commander who, with his close-cropped sandy hair, his pug nose and his disingenuous blue eyes, was altogether too much the idealized Space Scout of the recruiting posters. “Thank you. I’ll think about it.”

“We’ll think about it,” said Sonya.

“There’s no mad rush, sir,” Farrell told him, with a flash of white, even teeth. “But it should be an interesting trip. Glebe, Parramatta, Wyong and Esquel . . .”

Yes,
admitted Grimes to himself,
it could be interesting.
Like Aquarius, Glebe, Parramatta and Wyong were rediscovered Lost Colonies, settled originally by the lodejammers of the New Australia Squadron. Esquel was peopled by a more or less humanoid race that, like the Grollons, had achieved the beginnings of a technological civilization. Grimes had read about these worlds, but had never visited them. And then, through the open windows of the hall, drifted the harsh, salty smell of the sea, the thunderous murmur of the breakers against the cliff far below.

I can think about it,
he thought.
But that’s as far as it need go.

“We’ll think about it,” Sonya had said—and now she was saying more. “Please yourself, John, but I’m going. You can follow me when
Rim Eland
comes in. If you want to.”

“You’ll not consider staying here on Aquarius?”

“I’ve already made myself quite clear on that point. And since you’re hankering after a seafaring life so badly it’ll be better if you make the break
now
, rather than hang about waiting for the Rim Runners’ ship. Another few weeks here and it’ll be even harder for you to tear yourself away.”

Grimes looked at his wife. “Not with you already on the way home.”

She smiled. “That’s what I thought. That’s why I took Jimmy’s offer. He is rather sweet, isn’t he?”

“All the more reason why I should accompany you aboard his blasted ship.”

She laughed. “The old, old tactics always work, don’t they?”

“Jealousy, you mean?” It was his turn to laugh. “Me, jealous of that puppy!”

“Jealous,” she insisted, “but not of
him
. Jealous of the Survey Service. You had your love affair with the Service many years ago, and you’ve gotten over it. You’ve other mistresses now—Rim Runners and the Rim Worlds Naval Reserve. But I was still in the middle of mine when I came under the fatal spell of your charm. And I’ve only to say the word and the Service’d have me back; a Reserve Officer can always transfer back to the Active List . . .” She silenced Grimes with an upraised hand. “Let me finish. If I’d taken passage by myself in
Rim Eland
there’d have been no chance at all of my flying the coop. There’s so much of
you
in all the Rim Runners’ ships. And the Master and his officers would never have let me forget that I was Mrs. Commodore Grimes. Aboard
Star Pioneer
, with you not there, I’d soon revert to being Commander Sonya Verrill. . .”

Slowly, Grimes filled and lit his pipe. Through the wreathing smoke he studied Sonya’s face, grave and intent under the gleaming corona of auburn hair. He knew that she was right. If he persisted in the pursuit of this new love for oceangoing steamships, she could return to her old love for the far-ranging vessels of the Interstellar Federation’s military and exploratory arm. They might meet again sometime in the distant future, they might not. And always there would be the knowledge that they were sailing under different flags.

“All right,” he said abruptly. “Better tell your boyfriend to get the V.I.P. suite ready.”

“I’ve already told him,” she said. She grinned. “Although as a mere Reserve Commander, traveling by myself, I shouldn’t have rated it.”

The last farewells had been said, not without real regrets on either side, and slowly, the irregular throbbing of her inertial drive drowning the brassy strains of the traditional
Anchors Aweigh
,
Star Pioneer
lifted from the Port Stellar apron. Guests in her control room were Grimes and Sonya. Usually on such occasions the Commodore would be watching the ship handling technique of his host, but today he was not. He was looking down to the watery world fast falling away below. Through borrowed binoculars he was staring down at the slender shape that had just cleared the breakwaters of the Port Stellar seaport, that was proceeding seawards on yet another voyage; and he knew that on her bridge
Sonja Winneck
’s officers would be staring upward at the receding, diminishing ship of space. He sighed, not loudly, but Sonya looked at him with sympathy. That was yet anotheChapter of his life over, he thought. Never again would he be called upon to exercise the age-old skills of the seaman. But there were worse things than being a spaceman.