Stars in the Sand Page 7

   “I’ll head over to Alamo and order three month’s worth of packed lunches.”

   “Good. We can use some more trade goods.”

   “That’s a point,” Weitzman said, “We’re carrying spices and herbs, aren’t we.”

   “No breaking into the cargo,” Orlova said. “There are hungry miners out there ready to pay well for that stuff.”

   Orlova heard a cough from behind her; she turned to see that Marshall had drifted in, and immediately snapped to attention, along with everyone else on the bridge. He raised a hand, looking around.

   “I appreciate this, but while we’re in flight, you’d better make sure not to do that, even when we’re alone. The last thing we need is someone slipping. First-name terms while we’re in flight.”

   “Aye, s...Skipper,” Orlova said. “I think that’s probably about the best you’re going to get.”

   “I can live with that. Can I have a word, Maggie?”

   “Sure,” she replied, drifting out into the corridor behind him. He waited for a moment for the door to close, then looked around to make sure that no-one was listening.

   “I’ve had a word with Deadeye about this, and I’ve come to a decision. I want you to be my second-in-command for this mission.”

   “Sir?”

   “Didn’t I tell you not to call me that?” he said with a smile. “Caine doesn’t want the job anyway, not really, and you’ve got more command experience than she has…”

   “And ten years’ less seniority.”

   “That doesn’t make any difference to me, not with this mission. What is important is that that if I don’t make it, the crew has the best chance possible to get home, and I think you will give them that chance.”

   “I don’t know what to say.”

   “You can curse me, if you like. This isn’t a pleasant job I’m giving you. Caine will handle Tactical on the way out, Nelyubov Operations, or whatever will pass for it.”

   “I’m honored, Skipper. I mean that.”

   “As I said, it isn’t an honor, it’s a duty, and a damned unpleasant one at that. I’ll do my best not to make this any worse than necessary. I promise not to do something stupid and get you killed.”

   Smiling, she said, “So Frank’s going, then?”

   “Yes, I’ve got the officers picked. Most of the crewmen, as well, though I’m still working on the last three or four. Ten left to choose from.”

   “Plenty of applicants, then.”

   “Much to my surprise, yes. Looks like quite a few of the crew are willing to follow us into another lion’s den.” He gestured back towards the bridge, “I’m heading back to Alamo now, see if I can clear my desk for my father. I’ll see you at the surprise party.”

   “What surprise party?”

   “The one you, Caine and Quinn haven’t organized on the station as a send-off.”

   “Oh,” she replied. “That surprise party.”

   “Don’t worry, I think it’s an excellent idea.” He glanced down at his watch, then said, “See you later.”

   “Aye, skipper,” she said, turning back to the bridge, drifting through the door as he headed back down the corridor. She looked around at the stations, lost in thought for a moment, a hundred things running through her head. Nelyubov turned from his work towards her, frowning.

   “Everything all right, Maggie?”

   “Yes,” she replied, nodding. “Everything’s fine. You’re definitely going, by the way.”

   “Good,” he said. “I don’t think this is a party I want to miss.”

   “Let’s get everything cleared up here, then. We’ve still got a lot of work to do in the next couple of days if we’re going to meet the Captain’s deadline. Weitzman, Spinelli, hurry up and get that console configured before I have to come over there and issue a judgment of Solomon. Frank, chase up Race and see how long it’s going to take him to update the astrographic database.”

   “You’re beginning to sound like a Captain again,” Nelyubov said with a smile.

   “Let’s hope for all our sakes that it doesn’t come to that,” she replied, swinging over to the command couch. She settled in, and started configuring it to her settings, saving them as she went, hoping that this was just going to be unused data in the system.

  Chapter 9

   The sound of laughter and music echoed down the corridor as Marshall walked towards the recreation room that Caine had hijacked for the party. Alamo had been all but deserted when he finally managed to clear his desk, staffed only by a somewhat resentful skeleton crew. He clutched his holdall in his hand, swinging it as he walked; he’d be going right from the party to Ouroboros, departure time scheduled in just eighteen hours – almost a day ahead of schedule, but that day could make the difference between success and failure.

   “Captain Marshall?” a quiet voice said to him, making him jump. He turned to see Ixia, one of the Neander who had shipped out on Hercules for her final battle, nursing a toolkit in her hands.

   “What can I do for you?”

   “I’ve been asking around, and I understand that one of the volunteers for your mission has to stay behind.

   He nodded, replying, “Yes, Hollister broke his leg this morning. Nothing serious, but he’ll need to knit it in gravity if he ever wants to walk properly again.”

   “I would like to take his place.”

   Marshall frowned, regarding her more closely. She seemed eager, yet nervous, as though she was desperate for him to agree, but equally hoping that he would reject her application.

   “There are grave enough risks for us. Wouldn’t you be returned to slavery if we were caught?”

   She shook her head, replying, “Do not concern yourself with that, Captain. I will be executed immediately as an example to others of my people.”

   His eyes widened, and he said, “Then why do you want to take such a risk?”

   “Because someone must,” she replied. “This world, Driftwind, is special. One of the few places where my people walk free, their heads held high. There are hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, held in subjection throughout the Cabal. I believe that you and your fleet may hold the key towards their freedom, and if I can help you in any small way, it will be but scant repayment for that.”

   “Ixia, I can’t promise anything. I’ll try, and I’m certain that the Senate will be sympathetic, but I’m less sure that they will authorize a full-scale war against the Cabal, especially if we can prevent it by other means.”

   Her eyes fixed on him, seemingly full of wisdom, “I know your people better than you, perhaps, Captain. If your government decides that it dare not risk war, there are those among you who would venture such a task.”

   “Are you certain you want to do this?”

   “More than I have ever been.”

   “Request approved. I’ll have a word with Maggie.” He smiled, then said, “How do you feel?”

   “Scared.”

   “Don’t worry. So am I. Shall we go in and enjoy the party?”

   She looked at the crowds, and shook her head, “I’d rather start moving my things onto Ouroboros, if you don’t mind.”

   “Your life is your own; go where you wish.”

   Shaking her head, she replied, “That has not been true for a long time. Perhaps it is again.”

   He watched her walk down the corridor, a spring in her step that had not been there before, and for a moment paused at the threshold of the party, looking at the celebrating crew. This was more than just a send-off, it was a catharsis, an affirmation that they had survived one crisis. And now he was taking a portion of his crew into another one, this one a gamble as large as that which had taken Alamo out here in the first place.

   Caine, over by the sound system, saw him hanging around by the door and bounded over, delegating the music duties to a wandering life support technician nursing a glass of som
ething non-regulation, then snatched his arm.

   “Come on, Danny, you’re going to enjoy yourself this evening.”

   Sighing, he nodded, and stepped into the room, allowing himself to be ushered around the crowd. The music was deafening, probably loud enough to be heard all the way through the station, but he caught snatches of population, brief glimpses into the personal lives of his crew. He found it oddly fascinating to listen to the gossip, to the conversations and arguments of lovers.

   “Captain,” Grogan said, spotting his interested, “We were just discussing shore leave. Tell this ass that Aeolis Mons beats anything on Callisto for free climbing.”

   “You’ve never been to the Gomul Crater, obviously,” a medical technician, Avilov, replied. “Sheer terror all the way.”

   “I did a little when I was training,” Marshall replied, “but never at that level. I did some climbing at the Xanthe Montes, but that was just for gliding. That’s where you get the real terror. Nothing but a few pounds of wing-surface between you and your last crash landing.”

   “I tried that once,” Avilov said, “last time I was on furlough. Just a run down the Canyon, though.”

   “Everyone does that. You want to get out into the high plains, into some of the mountain ranges. They might not be much to climb, but when you’re soaring over them, you get one hell of a view.”

   A figure moved up behind him; he turned to see Mulenga standing over his shoulder, a pair of drinks in his hands.

   “Could I trade a glass of punch for a moment of your time, Captain?”

  Excusing himself from the friendly argument, he took a sip of the drink, surprised that it had not yet been spiked, and said, “How can I help you?”

   “The crew list…”

   “I’m sorry, I can’t make any exceptions. Anyway, Alamo will need you to work out the best route through the Shrouded Stars.”

   “I understand that, Captain. That isn’t my problem.”

   “Then what is it?”

   “You’re taking Cantrell with you.”

   He frowned briefly, then said, “She’s only a Spaceman Third; she can’t be that critical to your department.”

   “That is precisely the problem, sir. She isn’t at all critical to my department. Frankly, I was going to recommend she be transferred to shore-side duties when we get back.”

   “What’s wrong with her?”

   Mulenga glanced around before quietly replying, “She’s just not good at her job. Worst analyst I’ve got, by a long way, and sloppy at maintenance as well. I don’t know who passed her through Basic, but I suspect it wasn’t her skill that got her through.”

   “That’s quite a serious charge, Lieutenant.”

   “I mean it, sir.”

   “Have you spoken with her about it?”

   “Repeatedly. The last time with Lieutenant Zebrova present. I was planning to invite you to sit in on the next meeting.”

   “I see.” To call Mulenga’s command style relaxed was the understatement to beat them all; he’d never heard the Astrogator this concerned about someone before. “And I haven’t been brought into the loop on this because…”

   “Normally I would deal with a situation such as this within my department. I would suggest you reconsider taking her along.”

   He shook his head, then said, “Noted, but I’m still taking her. Race can keep an eye on her, and it will give me a good chance to monitor her performance.” Raising a hand, he continued, “Not that I don’t assume you know what you are doing, but I want to see for myself. Just transferring her to another command is a cheap way of solving the problem.”

   “Sometimes it is the only way, sir. Move her to a less critical station.”

   “Or out of the service altogether, if it comes to that. We’ve got her on board for six months anyway, so let’s see if she can shape up. Perhaps she is simply in the wrong department.”

   “Perhaps,” he said, shaking his head. “I would still suggest taking someone else.”

   “Aside from Race, she’s the only other person from your department to sign up, and I’ll say this, she was awfully eager to go.”

   “And a volunteer is worth ten pressed men?” Mulenga said. “Perhaps it is so. I’ll be interested to hear your thoughts on her when you get back.”

   “I’m glad you are assuming that I am coming back.”

   With a smile, he replied, “I don’t have any doubts that you will find a way to get through, Captain. Whether you are able to complete your mission is perhaps less certain, dependent on circumstances somewhat beyond your control, but you and your volunteers will return.”

   “Thank you for the vote of confidence.”

   “I envy you, you know. You’re going to see some very interesting things – not least a variable A-type star, close up. Make sure Race takes plenty of readings for me; I’ve given him a list. I wish we could upgrade the exterior sensors.”

   “One day we might get a chance to send a proper research team.”

   “I hope so. It...offends me that we have to sneak around the stars like thieves. We should be able to travel where we will, in peace. There is so much to see, to learn.”

   “You’ve got the Shrouded Stars to look forward to, at least.”

   “I’m already working on the scientific program. Sub-Lieutenant Carpenter’s going to be too busy working on the surface to handle it…”

   “And besides, she isn’t a space science specialist.”

   “I suppose I can’t criticize. As a cosmologist, I study whole universes. Individual stars should be rather small scale for that.”

   “We’ll do some exploring on our way home. And the Cabal isn’t everywhere, as well. We might be able to get a pure science mission yet.”

   His face dropped, and he shook his head, “The odds of a battlecruiser being free to do such work while the Cabal are an extant threat seem all too remote, I fear.”

   “The two of you are looking awfully serious,” Caine said, walking over. “This is supposed to be a chance for us all to not talk shop.”

   “We weren’t,” Mulenga said. “Well, not any more, anyway.”

   “Once was too often.”

   Marshall glanced around the room, looking for the volunteers. Weitzman and Spinelli were over in a corner with a group of shuttle technicians, playing some sort of card game where the rules seemed to change with the level of alcohol consumption, and Bradley was on the improvised dance floor with Cooper, demonstrating the Espatier’s clumsiness, by the looks of it.

   Orlova walked into the room, looking around, and snatching a glass of punch from a tray by the door. She made a bee-line for Marshall, glancing at the festivities.

   “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “We’re still trying to get the new electronic warfare package to work. Convincing the communications system to cope with that much bandwidth is fun.” Glancing past his shoulder, she said, “Is there a buffet? I haven’t managed to eat anything for a while.”

  Caine shook her head, then said, “I might as well give up on the ‘no shop talk’ rule.”

   “Sorry, Deadeye,” Marshall said, “I guess we’re just a bunch of crazy workaholics.”

   “Crazy’s the right word for it.”

   “Well, what do you want to talk about, then?” Orlova said, nibbling on a hastily-procured sandwich. “You pick.”

   She paused for a second, shook her head, then said, “You know, I can’t think of anything.”

   “Then we might as well talk shop. Have you had any thoughts on a replacement for…”

   “Already taken care of. Ixia’s coming.”

   “Who?” Caine asked.

   “One of the Neander.”

   “She’s a pretty good mechanic, good at damage control,” Orlova said. “Surely it’s a bit of a risk, though.”

   “I was thinking about that,” he replied. “One thing s
he is likely to be is invisible; she can go places that we might not be able to get into. I tried to talk her out of volunteering, but she wants to do it.”

   “Perhaps I should have a word with her,” Orlova said.

   “Everyone’s made their choice,” Caine replied. “If she wants to go, and she knows the risk, we should let her. We’re all taking a big enough risk on this trip.”

   Marshall noticed another figure by the door, and walked over to his father, standing in the threshold, standing out in his Martian uniform from the rest of the crowd.

   “I thought I’d come over and take a look,” he said, while showing no interest in entering the room.

   “I’m glad you did.”

   “So, what, eighteen hours to go.”

   “About that.”

   “Is there any way that I can talk you out of this? Let someone else go in your place?”

   Shaking his head, Marshall replied, “Not this time.”

   “What you said, earlier.”

   “It wasn’t fair. There was a war on, and…”

   “No, you were quite right.” He looked around the room, at Hercules crewmen mingling with Alamo. “None of this is your fault. If anyone is to blame, I am. I took Hercules way off our patrol route, trying to find the Cabal.”

   “And you did.”

   “Look what happened as a result. My ship destroyed, my crew captured. All because, I suppose, deep down somewhere I didn’t want the War to end. You were at the front, fighting all the battles, son. I just got to roam around the stars, hunting down outposts and freighters. We had the fun.”

   “Dad…”

   “Let me finish. I know what I did, and I’m coming to know why I did it. Don’t make the same mistake as me. A lot of people suffered for my sins, son, and I don’t want you to go through the hell I put myself through.”

   “You saw a clear and present danger to the Confederation, and you decided to investigate it. If you’re going to take the blame for what has happened, take some damn credit as well. We’re out here, and we’ve accomplished a hell of a lot. I don’t know what they’ll say when we get home, but I can know that what we did matters. The information we’re getting fulfills the Commodore’s mandate a dozen times over, and if it wasn’t for you, we’d still be in the dark about the Cabal.”