"Baldwin, Bill 01 - The Helmsman ch02" - читать интересную книгу автора (Baldwin Bill)

CHAPTER 2

    "Full speed reverse, both," the Bear echoed. Truculent glided to a hovering stop just short of the tossing buoy.
    "All stop."
    "All stop."
    "Steering engine's amidships," the Chairman announced.
    In the driving ram outside the ship, Brim could see neither sky nor horizon; but twenty-five irals below, the sea's great swells were thick and black looking, peppered with ice rubble. Abruptly, a chance break in the downpour revealed the specter of another mass looming from the grayness-this one infinitely larger than Audacious. It quickly defined itself as the profile of a monster starship moving rapidly in Truculent's direction near the surface of the water. Scant moments later, she fairly burst from the storm, majestic and powerful, sea creaming away ahead of the roiling, foaming footprint she punched deep in the flattened surface, a haze of spray lifting hundreds of irals in her wake to rival the clouds themselves. Brim gasped in spite of himself. Perhaps no one in the galaxy could mistake that grand panorama of stacked bridges, great casemated turrets, and wide-shouldered, tapering hull: Iaith Galad, one of the three greatest battlecruisers ever constructed-and sister ship to Nimue, in which the famous Star Admiral Merlin Emrys was lost (nearly two years ago now, if Brim's memory served him). Waves of chill marched his back in icy regiments. To serve as Helmsman on something like her! He shook his head in resignation. Carescrians didn't get assignments like that.
    But what a dream.
    "We shall require a salute, Lieutenant Amherst," Collingswood's voice prompted.
    "Aye, Captain," Amherst replied. Immediately, glowing KA'PPA rings shimmered out from Truculent's beacon in the age-old Imperial salute, "MAY STARS LIGHT ALL THY PATHS."
    Brim had to crane his head back to see Iaith Galad's beacon when she made her traditional reply: "AND THY PATHS, STAR TRAVELERS." He glimpsed tiny figures peering down from the vast panoply of Hyperscreens atop her towering bridge as she passed. One of them waved. Then, quickly as she appeared, she was gone, swallowed again in the gloom. Truculent bounced heavily in her gravity wake while a deluge of spray from the warship's backwash cascaded in sheets over the Hyperscreens and decks below. Then the destroyer steadied and the sea rolled again beneath the hull as if the great starship had never passed.
    *DD T.83: you now are cleared for immediate takeoff," the Harbor Master announced. "Wind is zero four at one oh three. Heavy battlecruiser just landed reports considerable turbulence on final: your path."
    "Thank you very much," Brim acknowledged, then looked Ursis' image in the eye and winked. "Finally," he whispered, then louder, "Full speed ahead."
    The Bear nodded. "Good luck," he mouthed silently. "Full speed ahead." Immediately, Truculent's two oversized gravity generators began to thunder deep in the starship's hull, shaking the whole spaceframe.
    While thrust built, Brim held the bucking, vibrating starship in place with gravity brakes. He got a definite feeling the devices were only just adequate for the job, and was distinctly glad to hear Gallsworthy's voice when it came.
    "Lights are on-you've got takeoff thrust!"
    Brim released the brakes. "Full military ahead, both, Nik!" he bellowed over the roar of the generators.
    "Full military ahead, both," Ursis answered. The noise intensified and Truculent began to creep forward.
    Brim managed a last glance aft through the rain. Gimmas Haefdon's huge rolling waves were now flattened in a wide, flowing trough that extended out from their stern to a huge cloud building skyward at the very limits of his vision. Then the ship was suddenly racing over the water and no time remained for thoughts, only reflexes and habits. Stabilizers and lift modifiers, helm and thrust controllers. And even his long afternoon simulating on the bridge was poor preparation for the destroyer's astonishing acceleration. "Great-thraggling-Universe!" he gasped.
    "Moves right out, doesn't she?" Ursis commented through a grinning mouthful of teeth.
    Awed, Brim watched the surface rush by for only ticks before Gallsworthy's voice beside him announced, "ALPHA velocity." Then he carefully rotated the destroyer's nose upward a specified increment for lift-off. Truculent was smooth and responsive on the controls-almost skittish. She was his first real thoroughbred, a hundred light-years beyond even the best of the training ships he had flown.
    "BETA velocity," Gallsworthy announced a few moments later, then, "Positive climb." Within ticks, Truculent was thundering through Gimmas Haefdon's heavy cloud cover, bumping heavily in the everlasting turbulence.
    "Haul 'em both back to full speed ahead, Nik," Brim ordered.
    "Full speed ahead, both," the Bear verified. Generator noise in the bridge subsided considerably.
    "DD T.83: contact departure one two zero point six," the Harbor Master called. "Good hunting, Truculents!" The transmission faded quickly as they broke out in smooth air above the overcast-dirty gray billows that extended forever and forever in Ginmmas Haefdon's weak sunlight.
    "Departure Control to DD T.83," said a woman's face in the display. "You are cleared Hypo-light to the Lox'Sands-98 buoy, zone orange-with immediate transition to Hyper-Drive on arrival. Good-bye from Gimmas Haefdon. And good luck, Truculent."
    "T.83 to Departure Control," Brim seconded, "proceeding Lox'Sands-98 buoy, zone orange with immediate Hyperlight transition on arrival. Thanks, Gimmas Haefdon. See you next time." Before he finished speaking, Truculent swept through the planet's atmosphere and was streaking along in darkness on the edge of outer space. He busied himself with additional checkout routines and monitored the ship's systems for the next few cycles, keeping a wary eye on his LightSpeed indicator as the ship accelerated. "Let's cut in the Drive, Nik," he said presently. "Lieutenant Gallsworthy, will you call out the readings?"
    Ursis winked and kissed his fingertips. "Drive shutters open. Activating Drive crystals," he echoed. "Firing number one." A single shaft of green light extended far out into the blackness aft. Instantly, Hyperscreens dimmed to protect the bridge occupants while a deep, businesslike grumble joined the roar of the gravity generators.
    "Point seven five LightSpeed. Point eight," Gallsworthy called out.
    "Readouts normal," the Chairman reported.
    Ursis nodded, cross-checking his own instruments. Apparently satisfied, he went on to the next: "Firing two. Firing three."
    "Point eight five LightSpeed," Gallswoithy continued. "Point nine."
    "Firing four."
    Truculent's light-limited gravity generators were now just about played out. In the forward Hyperscreens, the first glowing sheets of Gandom's ve effect were already crackling along the starship's deck when Brim turned his attention outside.
    "Point nine seven LightSpeed."
    Presently, the visible Universe became laced by a fine network of pulsing brilliance spreading jaggedly from the last visible stars as if the whole firmament were about to shatter into the very pebbles of creation. Now all he had to do was pass the Lox'Sands-98 buoy. The ship would have to tell him when-until the Drive could be deployed, Truculent's bridge crew was virtually blind to the outside Universe.
    Suddenly: "Lox'Sands-98 buoy in the wake, Lieutenant Brim," the Chairman confirmed. Brim smiled with anticipation. "That's it, Nik," he said. "Half ahead, all crystals."
    "Half ahead, all crystals," Ursis echoed. Quiet thunder from Truculent's four Drive crystals joined the roar of her straining gravity generators, the starscape wobbled and shimmered, then blended to an angry red kaleidoscope ahead until space itself came to an end in a wilderness of shifting, multicolored sparks. When this phenomenon (the Daya-Peraf transition) at last subsided, the LightSpeed indicator had moved through 1.0 and began to climb rapidly again as Truculent's Drive crystals took over the job of hurtling her through Hyperspace.
    "Finished with gravity generators," Brim announced.
    "Gravity generators spooling down," Ursis confirmed.
    Immediately, the Hyperscreen panels darkened while their crystalline lattices were synchronized with the Drive-then they cleared once more, blazing with the full majesty of the Universe. On this side of the LightSpeed barrier, however, flowing green Drive plumes trailed the ship for at least two c'lenyts surrounded by a whirling green wake as Truculent's Hyperspace shock wave bled off mass and negative time ("Tneg" of historic Travis equations) in accordance with the complex system of Travis Physics. In a few moments, the noise of the generators faded completely and Gallsworthy once more caught his eye.
    "Yes, sir?" the surprised Carescrian asked, braced for still another rebuff.
    A shadow of humor passed the senior Helmsman's reddened eyes, before they clouded again. "You may have proved a point or two this morning, Brim," he allowed emotionlessly. "I shall take over now and let you watch the scenery."
    Jolted, Brim suddenly understood he had just received rare praise from this taciturn officer and groped for something appropriate to say. Then he brought himself up short with the sure realization that words were tools Gallsworthy simply didn't understand. "Thank you, Lieutenant," he said matter-of-fact. "I should be glad for a moment to relax."
    When control was subsequently restored to the left-hand console, Brim settled back in his recliner and closed his eyes for a moment, smiling inwardly. It was a morning of two victories so far as he was concerned-though few of the Imperials on Truculent's bridge could have logically explained why. As thralls to Avalon's Galactic Empire, Carescrians were rarely praised for anything they accomplished. Most became highly adept at ferreting out life's little triumphs wherever and whenever they could be found. And even Gallsworthy's acceptance of his flying skills could in no way match Brim's satisfaction in the sour look still manifested on Amherst's long, homely face.
    Truculent was well on her way to war-so was Wilf Brim.

    Blockades in intergalactic space were mounted for pretty much the same reasons they were mounted anywhere else: starve a critical component of a civilization into collapse and other, dependent components suffer with it. Starve sufficient critical components, and the whole civilization suffers. To this end, I.F.S. Truculent was assigned patrol duty off the periphery of the League's great Altnag'gin hullmetal fabricating complex at Trax. Without imported metallic zar'clinium, a rare trace element, its mills could forge no hullmetal plate-and without hullmetal plate, dependent shipyards could turn out no more warships.
    The actual implementation was as simple as it was effective: cargo starships cruising Hyperspace at anywhere between ten and twenty thousand times the speed of light were simply not "maneuverable" in any normal sense of the word. It was first necessary to exit Hyperspace before approaching anywhere near a space anchorage, and this meant Hypo-light runs of at least two or three metacycles at the end of each journey. During this interval, "runners" (enemy ships headed in either direction) were quite visible in the normal spectrum-and vulnerable to attack from predators like the Empire's specially equipped T-class destroyers. Truculent was one of six patrol craft assigned to sealing Altnag'gin; she relieved a smaller N-class destroyer, which had been constantly on station for three standard months.
    It came as no particular surprise to Brim when the duty quickly boiled down to mostly hard work and boredom-a lot of space was like that. However, the routine was often enough punctuated by periods of deadly action, and Truculent found herself immersed in one of these no more than a few standard days after the ship she replaced gleefully turned her bow homeward and surged off into deep space at full thrust.
    A chance break in one of the region's interminable gravity storms some hundred or so c'lenyts off the Nebulous Triad (a key departure point from one of the Cloud League's most important manufacturing centers) had just revealed two fast transports racing in from deep space.
    Besides metallic zar'clinium, blockade runners in this part of the League nearly always carried other basic commodities to fuel the maw of Nergol Triannic's war machine: food ripped from starving farmers of Korvost, freshly mined crystal seedlings, and always quantities of life-sustaining TimeWeed from the Spevil virus beds-frequent drafts of the latter were necessary for each member of the dreaded Controller class and their rulers, expatriates from Triannic's royal court at far-off Indang.
    Only cycles out of Hyperspace, the enemy ships had run out of luck.
    Gallsworthy and Pym worked briskly at Truculent's Helmsmen's consoles, Collingswood on her feet behind them, one hand on each recliner, staring through the Hyperscreens. An off-duty Brim sat as observer in a jump seat, concentrating on the proceedings as if his life depended on learning each movement at either console-someday, he knew it would.
    No escort craft accompanied these two high-speed beauties-Kabul Anak had recently siphoned nearly all protection from the area to support a large combined attack on nearby targets in the Empire. And the gravity storm that only cycles in the past covered their dash for safety also served to conceal Truculent. But the latter's military scanning devices picked up two traders long before her own image activated their civilian-proximity alarms. Now the deadly warship was postioned so as to deny any possibility of escape to Hyperspace and was surging along in their wakes like the legendary wraith of Zoltnark, Dark Lord of the Universe.
    "We shall have a warning salvo, if you please, Anastasia," Collingswood ordered quietly. "They are surely aware of our presence by now."
    "And probably yelling for help on every channel they scan," Amherst grumbled nervously. Brim's glance strayed to the communications consoles where two ratings quietly nodded to each other. No time to waste today. The broadcast alarm would attract every enemy warship remaining in the area.
    Outside, he watched Truculent's three upper-deck turrets Index slightly to port, then return to starboard, finally coming to a stop with their long, slim 144s pointing dead ahead: toward the distant targets. His mind's eye visualized four identical turrets that had just danced the same little gigue out of sight on the starship's dorsal planes.
    "Stand by for a close pattern about half a c'lenyt off their bows," Fourier ordered.
    Brim watched fascinated while firing crews hunched over their Director consoles, faces lit from beneath by the ever-changing colors of information pouring into their globes.
    "Range six thousand and closing. Fifty-nine hundred...fifty-eight hundred..."
    "Connect the mains, all disruptors."
    "Connected."
    "Deflection seventy-six left. Rate eighty-one plus."
    "Range fifty-five hundred and closing. Sharply now...."
    "Steady."
    "Fire!" At Fourier's word, all seven disruptors went off in a salvo of blinding light and raw energy-Truculent's deck bucked violently; clouds of angry radiation cascaded into the wake. In spite of himself, Brim thrilled to the rolling, ear-splitting thunder rumbling through the spaceframe. Instantly, a whole volume of space ahead of the League ships convulsed with brilliant flashes of yellow fire.
    "Eyes of Vothoor!" Theada quipped in an undertone, "That ought to slow them down some."
    "Don't count on it," Collingswood warned, eyes riveted on her fleeing quarry. "They'll not give up so easily as that. Anak's desperate for supplies-he makes it well worthwhile for the ones, who do get through." Indeed, nearly a full cycle later, the two ships were still speeding toward their destinations.
    She frowned, nodded her head. "Reason with them again, Anastasia," she ordered. "Closer, this time."
    "Aye, aye, Captain," Fourier answered. "A bit closer, if you please, at the Directors."
    "Aye, Lieutenant. Down five hundred. Deflection fifteen minus. Rate sixty-four plus."
    Brim's untrained eye could detect little movement of the disruptors as they were relaid, but he knew the next shots would be a great deal closer-if recent target exercises were any indication at all.
    "Fire!"
    This time, the darkness ahead was shattered by one huge upheaval which appeared as if it must have taken place only irals from the targets themselves. And though it did produce immediate results, they were not quite the ones expected on Truculent's bridge. "Voot's gray ghost," Collingswood grumped under her breath. "Wouldn't you know!" Only one of the ships had slowed down to surrender-the other was still speeding home, leaving its partner as a sacrificial Lau'f'last. A rare show of teamwork for the independent Cloud League's blockade runners.
    "Must be something xaxtdamned important in that second one," Gallsworthy observed angrily. "Those zukeeds never help each other."
    "That's the truth," Anastasia agreed. "We'd better catch it, all right."
    "I want them both," Collingswood said, tossing her head. "Those ships are valuable prizes, and I do not intend either will escape." She turned abruptly, peering into the darkened bridge. "Lieutenant Arnherst!" she called.
    "Captain?"
    "Lieutenant, round up those hands we designated boarding party A," she said in an excited voice. "Ten with side arms and blast pikes. Have them ready no later than ten cycles from now-before we catch up to the first ship," she ordered. "Because you are going to take it home as a prize while we continue 'discussions' with its friend."
    "Me? Home?"
    "Yes, Puvis-home," she said, gaze sweeping across the bridge-where it came to rest on the off-duty Brim in his jump seat. "And by Slua's third eye!" she continued, "you are going to do it with our Carescrian prodigy as your pilot. How do you feel about boarding that transport, too, Lieutenant Brim?"
    Grinning like an addled tree h'oggoth, Brim clambered out of his recliner and hurried along the aisle to Amherst's console. "I'm on my way to the transfer tube, Captain," he laughed.
    "Pity," Collingswood laughed. "You may well miss all the action there, for I do not plan to board her by conventional means-that would absolutely insure the second ship's escape."
    Brim watched Amherst match his own frown. "Captain?" the latter asked.
    "I shall only slow when I pass that first ship," she said, eyes narrowed in excitement. "Something neither of those rather clever blockade runners expects." She pointed a finger at Brim's chest, "Instead, Lieutenant Brim, you will fly the boarding party-in a launch-alongside the enemy bridge. Where you, Lieutenant Amherst," she continued, "will have the job of boarding her through any kind of a hatch you find there-they've all got something. Then take immediate possession of controls. Ten men should be more than sufficient. And if you work quickly, it will all be done while she's still in the range of our 144s-they should guarantee active cooperation from your hosts. After that, Lieutenant Brim, it will be your job again to take her into any Imperial port you can reach. Don't worry about the launch. We'll pick it up if we get the chance, otherwise she's a small price to pay for either of those beauties. I shall expect you back aboard Truculent soon as you can hitch a ride. Now get moving-both of you!"
    Moments later, Brim and Amherst were bustling down a ladder toward the ship's small armory as Maldive's voice broke into the interCOMM, "Boarding party one form in battle suits immediately at launch hatch three. Boarding party one to launch hatch three-immediately!"

    Well within the ten cycles allotted by Collingsworth, Brim sat perspiring at the command console of Truculent's number-three launch, a stubby, powerful affair Sophia Pym swore was designed first for ugliness, and only then for performance. Behind him, similarly peering from the armored blue globes of Imperial battle-suit helmets, Amherst and ten men-led by the hulking Barbousse-clambered through the hatch to perch on jump seats in the crowded utility compartment, jostling to position their long blast pikes under the low canopy. Last aboard was Ursis, waving a huge side-action blaster of Lo'Sodeskayan manufacture.
    "Hatch is closed and dogged, Wilf," the Bear reported, thumping into place beside Amherst. "Terribly sorry, Lieutenant," he grunted, as he wedged the First Lieutenant against a rack of stringers. "Collingswood sent me to keep an eye on Brim here," he continued as Amherst dissolved in a fit of coughing.
    Brim stifled a delighted grin, nodded assent, and confirmed the hatch seal on an instrument panel before him. Then he started the powerful little antigravity generator aft and immediately spooled it up to maximum output-hating that kind of heavy-handed piloting-with little choice under the present circumstances. When the registered output steadied, he nodded to the image of Theada in an overhead display. "Swing us out, Jubal," he barked through the suit's interCOMM. Moments later, two heavy davits sparkled with emerald light as mooring beams flashed to the launch's optical capstans. Less than a cycle later, the beams thickened, then the davits began to move: first upward, then sideways, hauling the launch from behind the protection of Truculent's bridge wings. It provided Brim's first unobstructed view forward since he left the bridge: the first enemy ship-a typical Cloud League transport made up of globes and cylinders co-located along a single tube-was now pothering along less than a quarter c'lenyt ahead and being overhauled rapidly.
    "Stand by to cast off the launch," he yelled over the roar of the generator.
    "Standing by," Theada asserted shakily.
    Brim carefully judged his distance and rate of closure-launches were not capable of sustained high-speed travel, even at military overload. Aft, the straining antigravity generator already threatened to rip itself from its mountings. He tensed. "Now, Jubal!" he yelled.
    Theada made no clean job of it. The forward beam winked out a fraction of a second before the aft, and very nearly dragged their launch end around end before Brim fought her back on course, heart pounding against his chest. Then, miraculously, he was bucketing along beside the craft's globular forward module with an already distant Truculent pulling away all too rapidly for comfort-her big 144s provided a distinct feeling of security in the thin-skinned launch.
    "There's the emergency hatch, Lieutenant," Barbousse exclaimed, pointing a fingered glove toward a faint outline just aft the port arm of the ship's cross-shaped Hyperscreens.
    "He's got it," Ursis seconded. "Bring us alongside, Wilf. We'll blast it in if they won't open on their own-they xaxtdamned well know why we're here."
    Brim maneuvered the launch until his main hatch was opposite the enemy's bridge, then watched Barbousse yank it open and aim his blast pike, finger twitching on the valve. He could see the enemy flight crew peering back at him-helplessly, he hoped.
    "Give them a moment, Barbousse!" he yelled.
    "Aye, Lieutenant," Barbousse assured,him. "I'll wait."
    But in point of fact, the blockade runners did not need even a moment-their escape hatch flew off into the wake before Barbousse's voice faded from the bubble of Brim's helmet. The opening was immediately filled by one of the Cloud League's jet-black battle suits, arms crossed against the chest in the Universal gesture of surrender.
    "Snag 'em, Barbousse," he yelled as he jerked the launch sideways, smashing the two hatches together in a cloud of sparks. Deftly for his awesome size, Barbousse lofted two explosive grappling hooks accurately through either side of the opening, then dragged them taut when they fired, securing each to baggage tie-downs on the launch's floor.
    After that, nothing happened. Puzzled, Brim shut down the straining generators, his attention glued to Number One, waiting for further commands.
    "Well, c'mon Amherst," Ursis growled in the resulting silence, "You are waiting perhaps for a personal invitation from Kabul Anak?"
    "Oh. Er...yes. I mean no, of course not! Ah...this way, men," Amherst stuttered, pushing Barbousse through the opening first. Ursis clambered through on his heels, followed by Brim and the ten ratings of the boarding party.
    Inside, a small group of civilian spacers huddled glumly on one side of the still-smoking bridge, nervous eyes darting in every direction. One, a woman, was tall with a figure even a space suit couldn't hide-she also had a nose only a mother could love. Beside her a fat old man stood with his paunch straining the power belt around his waist. Another had no hair on his head. And still another wore a crumpled little peaked cap inside his bubble helmet and sported a huge black mustache drooping from his upper lip. Brim stopped in his tracks. So these were the enemy he so often read about. The Cloud League's storied blockade runners. He snorted in irony. These? They looked like nothing more-or less-than every workaday spacer he knew from the ore carriers; ordinary, everyday faces. In an Avalonian byway, he would not have noticed any one of them. And to a man, they were frightened, no doubt about that!
    In the center of the bridge, however, three very different, human forms stood before the controls, these dressed in the black battle suits of Controllers. For no apparent reason, they instantly returned Brim to the dark mood of war. Black-uniformed Controllers were a separate-and elite-branch of the normally gray-uniformed League armed forces. In the eyes of most Imperials, they were the true Cloud League villains-killers of little Carescrian girls and destroyers of undefended villages. He could almost see bloodstains on their spotless gloves as they waited with looks of insolence on their faces.
    "Ah," Amherst started lamely, "wh-what ship is this?"
    "And who asks?" one of the black-suited Leaguers demanded haughtily.
    "It is not your time for questions, Black Suit," Ursis growled as he ever so slightly moved the big side-action blaster in his hand. There was nothing subtle at all about the gesture-either meant by the Bear or interpreted by the Controllers.
    "S-Starship Ruggetos," one said quickly.
    "Good," Ursis rumbled, taking control of the situation. "You now understand our relationship. For your own good, I urge all to remember it well." He licked his chops with a long red tongue. "It has been almost a year since I visited Mother Planets for chasing live red meat."
    Sweat broke out on the brows of all three Controllers. Everyone knew about Sodeskayan Bears and their annual home leave for "The Hunt." It was only natural. Certain places in the galaxy permitted nonsentient bear hunts, too.
    "Take these men and lock them somewhere, Barbousse," Amherst ordered imperiously, recovering some of his confidence. "And see those Controllers are kept off to themselves," he added. "I don't want them mixing with the rest."
    "Aye, sir," Barbousse, said, nudging the three black-suited Controllers into the companionway with the tip of his oversized space boot. "They won't stir no one up when I'm done with them." Cycles later, he reappeared to herd the civilians from the bridge in a different direction. Brim filed all this away for future reference. Today, the huge starman was not at all the bumbling dunce who appeared on Truculent's gangway the morning of his arrival.
    Then there was no more time for random thoughts as he took his place at the master control console in the center of the ship's peculiar cross-shaped Hypcrscreen arrays. He heard Ursis thump down behind him in what appeared to be a propulsion console. The simplified layout on Ruggetos' tiny bridge was surprisingly easy to comprehend-yet as distant from Imperial design philosophy as the Cloud League's spoken Vertrucht was from Avalonian. "We'd better get some speed on this bucket of bolts, Nik," he called back as he studied the readouts before him. "Our COMM people picked up the messages these birds broadcast. We'll likely have visitors around these parts before we know it, and the first of them probably won't be Truculent."
    Always different in minor respects, flight controls on one starship usually turned out to be fairly similar to those on any other-anywhere in the Universe. These were no exception. Brim soon mastered all three panels and prudently set a course for deep space, waiting for the sound of the crystals when Ursis fired them up. But-at least by the chronometer on his console-five cycles later, nothing more happened. In the corner of his eye, he detected a concerned look on Amherst's face and continued to study his own readouts, hoping to avoid drawing further attention to the clearly troubled engineer at the console behind him. The ploy was totally without success.
    "What seems to be the trouble, UrsisT' Brim heard the First Lieutenant ask nervously.
    "Can't change the Drive's power settings," Ursis growled absently. "Something has been altered here." His voice trailed away as he continued to concentrate.
    Amherst fairly ran across the bridge to the console. "Something has been altered?" he asked, his voice suddenly tinged with, fear.
    Brim turned in his seat as Ursis looked up at the First Lieutenant, blinked his eyes, then shook his head as if what he had to say pained him. "Yes, Number One," he said, frowning, "something has been tampered with that I do not yet-completely-understand. But if you let me alone for a few cycles, I'll master it. Now-"
    "Don't touch that console, you damned Sodeskayan fool!" Amherst squeaked in a high-pitched voice. "They've rigged it to blow us up!" Sweat suddenly stood out on his forehead.
    "With them still aboard?" Ursis demanded indignantly as he continued to manipulate the controls. "Ridiculous."
    "Get your hands away from those, Ursis!" Amherst hissed nervously. "That is an order. Understand?"
    "Would you rather wait until one of their patrols intercepts us, Lieutenant7" Ursis asked, frowning.
    "I don't want to die, Ursis," Amherst spat. "Stay away from those controls before you blow us all over the Universe!"
    "Wha-a-a-t?"
    "You have no idea what they might have patched in there, Sodeskayan. By Slua's third eye, you toy with our lives. There's high power at the end of those controls."
    "I know from power for xaxt sake," Ursis rumbled, head cocked to one side in a anger. "That's how I make my living-usually."
    "You know about power systems that have not been turned into death traps, Bear," Amherst argued hotly.
    "True, but I do not think such is the case here. Can you seriously believe they'd blow themselves up with us?"
    "I shall believe anything I wish. And get your paws off those controls-that is a direct order! Do you understand?"
    Ursis thumped angrily back in the recliner, a grim look on his    face.
    Unable to contain himself further, Brim jumped into the fray. "If we don't start moving a whole lot faster than this, we are very liable to end up looking down the barrel of a disruptor-and it won't be ours, Lieutenant Amherst," he protested. "Both these ships messaged off calls for help."
    "Would you rather risk being blown to subatomics, Carescrian?" Amherst snapped angrily.
    "I don't see what Nik's doing as any sot of risk," Brim said, temper only barely under control. "What I do see as a risk is sitting around here at less than LightSpeed. Anybody can catch us the way we are now-and unless I badly miss my guess, we will soon be joined by a lot of 'anybodys."
    "Well!" Amherst fumed. "I suppose I have no reason to be surprised. You Carescrians would be expected to side with the Bears; now that I think of it. Subhumans..."
    Brim shook his head, ashamed to meet Ursis' eyes. "Perhaps you'd rather deal with our black-suited friends from the Cloud League," he said hotly. "Shall I send Barbousse to fetch them? Maybe you can persuade them to explain what they've done."
    Amherst tensed. "We...we all know how much good that would do," he said, a shadow of fear passing into his eyes. "And besides, I prefer to keep them where they are."
    Brim set his jaw and glowered at the starship's useless controls. He was still fighting his temper when the ship's proximity alarm started clanging overhead. He swiveled in his recliner, activating the aft viewscreens before he stopped.
    "What is that?" Amherst asked, face ashen. "Are we going to blow up after all?"
    "No," Brim assured him grimly. "And you are now quite safe from foreign hands tampering with the ship's Drive me mechanism."
    "Well, that's better," Amherst said, taking a long bread relief. "But what was that ringing?"
    "The proximity alarm, Lieutenant," Brim said, adjusting focus of the aft viewscreens and shaking his head. "Help has just arrived."
    "Oh," the First Lieutenant said, "then Truculent's back?"
    "No," Brim said, "but there is another starship outside. I can't make out the name. She's a Cloud League corvette. And both her long 99s are pointed right here at the bridge."

Baldwin, Bill - The Helmsman Chapter 3

CHAPTER 2

THE HELMSMAN
BY BILL BALDWIN
CHAPTER 2
    As he strode among the consoles, Bosporus P. Gallsworthy, lieutenant, I.F., wore the look of a man so secure in what he did that mere outward appearance was of no importance. His face was almost wooden in calm, though bushy eyebrows failed to mask a glint of cold intelligence in his red-rimmed eyes. He had short-cropped hair and loosely jowled, pockmarked chheks, a dark complexion, and thin, dry lips. His height was average or a little less, and his uniform-though most obviously clean-revealed the ghost of a stain halfway down the left breast of his tunic. Reaching the principal's console, he casually flipped his cape to one side and slid into the recliner. Brim watched him from the corner of his eye, motionless.
    "Mr. Chairman," Gallsworthy said curtly.
    "Good morning, Lieutenant Galls-"
    "I'll have the systems checkout right away," Gallsworthy interrupted. "Altimeters?"
    "Preverified," said the Chairman. "Set. . . and cross-checked"
    "Engineers' preflight?"
    "Preverified: complete."
    "G-wave service?"
    "Preverified: forty-four, five hundred Go and Gh"
    "What's this xaxtdamned 'preverified' business?" Gallsworthy demanded.
    "The systems checkouts are already complete, Lieutenant," the Chairman said. "We are ready for immediate generator start-up."
    "Who ran them?"
    "Lieutenant Brim, sir."
    "Brim? Who's Brim?"
    "Sublieutenant Wilf Brim," the Chairman replied, "at the console next-"
    "Takeoff bugs ninety-two, one thirty-eight, one fifty-one," Gallsworthy interrupted, continuing the checkout. "And drop that 'preverified' muck."
    "One sixty-nine five," the Chairman answered.
    "Four eight oh four?"
    "One hundred and seventy thousand, Lieutenant," the Chairman said. "Within tolerances."
    Gallsworthy paused, frowned. "I know," he growled. "All right. You can skip the rest of that one, then. We'll do the 'start' checklist next."
    "The 'start' checklist is also Complete, Lieu-"
    "I said 'start' checklist, Mr. Chairman. Now."
    "Start pressure ninety-one forty. Subgenerator on," the Chairman said.
    "Gravity brake?"
    "Set."
    "KA'PPA beacon?"
    "Energized."
    Again Gallsworthy stopped. "Skip down to...No. Stow that." Without turning his head, he spoke from the side of his mouth. "All right, Brim, or whatever it is they call you. If you think you're so xaxtdamned expert at checkout all by yourself, maybe you'll want to fly this beast yourself. Too?"
    "That will be fine, sir," Brim answered-without turning his own head. But his heart was in his mouth. He endured Gallsworthy's stony silence for a personal eternity, staring through the Hyperscreens into the dirty gray sky and driving rain and forcing himself to relax. Every eye on the bridge would be watching.
    At some length, Gallsworthy turned in his recliner. "Smarth-alec kid," he snarled under his breath, biting each word off short. "Right out of the xaxtdamned Academy and you puppies think you know how to fly a starship. I've got half a notion to let you try it-then kick your ass off the ship when you can't."
    "I'm ready, Lieutenant," Brim asserted quietly, still staring out the Hyperscreens, "anytime you are." In the corner of his eye, he watched a startled expression form on the senior Helmsman's face-then turn to cold anger.
    "You just tbraggling asked for it, Brim-all of it," Gallsworthy hissed through clenched teeth. "The controls are yours." He sat back in his recliner and folded his arms.
    For the first time, Brim turned and faced the waspish individual who was to be his first commandant. "As you wish, Lieutenant," he said evenly.
    Gallsworthy snorted, smiled, and began to return to the controls when he stopped short and turned in his seat again. "What was that?" he demanded.
    "I said, 'As you wish, Lieutenant,'" Brim repeated.
    Gallsworthy's face clouded; his bushy eyebrows descended to almost hide his eyes. "You mean you're actually going to try to...?" he stumbled, clearly unprepared for Brim's answer. "Why, you can't fly this ship any more than a..." He stopped, clearly groping for a suitable term of disapprobation.
    "I can't believe you plan to finish that sentence, Lieutenant Gallsworthy," Collingswood interrupted. "Certainly you would never turn over the controls to someone whose competence you question. Would you?"
    The senior Helmsman jerked around in his recliner. "When did you...?" he growled, then bit his lip. "My apologies, Captain," he said lamely. "I, ah..."
    "Oh, please continue, Lieutenant Gallsworthy," Collingswood commanded sharply.
    "Nothing, Captain," Gallsworthy grumbled. "Really."
    "Good, Mr. Gallsworthy," Collingswood answered. "And I highly gratified to see you and Number One working so c1osely together today."
    At this, Amherst looked up in alarm. "Together?"
    "Why, yes," Collingswood answered, the very picture of innocence. "It was you who suggested Lieutenant Brim have a chance to show us how he graduated first in his class at Helmsman's Academy. Wasn't it?"
    "First in his...?" Amherst stammered. "Ah. Why, a...of course, Captain." He turned to Gallsworthy. "Didn't we Lieutenant Gallsw-"
    "We shall discuss this cooperation at a more appropriate time, gentlemen," Collingswood interrupted pointedly. "Lieutenant Brim is about to transfer control to his console, aren't you, Lieutenant?"
    Brim nodded. "Aye, Captain," he agreed quickly. Then, before anything further might transpire, he acted. "Mr. Chairman," he ordered, "swap command to this console immediately."
    Gallsworthy stiffened, opened his eyes and his mouth at same time, and turned toward Collingswood-but he was already rnetacycles too late. Before retiring the previous night, Brim had carefully preset all necessary turn-over transactions, and the complex ritual was accomplished almost instantaneously.
    "Start checkout is complete, Lieutenant Ursis," the Carescrian said to an image of the Sodeskayan that suddenly shimmered in a hovering dislay globe near his right hand. "Fire off the generators, please."
    "Starboard antigrav," Ursis rumbled quickly. "Turning one-wave guide closed." From far aft and deep within the hull, a low whine dropped slowly to a wavering drone. This steadied. "Turning two." A thump passed through the spaceframe. "Guide open."
    Brim watched colored patterns race across his power readouts as antigravity pressure built. A gentle rumble-more felt than heard-replaced the drone, building rapidly in volume and strength. "Call 'em out, Mr. Chairman," he ordered.
    "Normal pressure," the Chairman confirmed. "Plus nine. Plus twelve. Plus fifteen-we have a start, Lieutenant."
    Ursis' beady eye winked at Brim from the display. "Port generator, Mr. Chairman," he continued without interruption. "Turning one-wave guide closed." A second whine mingled with the sound of the running generator and dropped in pitch. "Turning two. Guide open." The combined rumble was a substantial presence on the bridge as the second antigravity generator reached operating parameters.
    "Normal pressure on starboard," the Chairman reported. "Plus fifteen. You have a second start, Lieutenant Ursis."
    "Number three," Ursis said quietly. "Standard start. You do it, Mr. Chairman." A third and higher pitched thrumming soon joined the first two.
    "All generators running and steady," reported the Chairman.
    "Your ship, Wilf," the Bear pronounced. "Drive systems are checked and waiting."
    "Thank you, Nik," Brim said, trying desperately to avoid matching eyes with the clearly thunderstruck Gallsworthy. He mentally ran through a dozen personal checklists, scanned the readouts once more-all normal. Satisfied for the moment, he relaxed in the recliner. "Mr. Amherst," he announced to the clearly disapproving Number One, "the Helmsman's station is ready for immediate departure."
    "Let's be at it, then, Number One," Collingswood's voice prompted as Brim watched the freezing rain spatter against the heated Hyperscreens. A large tracked vehicle had just pulled onto the jetty, lining up in front of Truculent's sharp nose. Presently, three great amber lenses deployed from its back and positioned themselves so that only one could be seen from Brim's console. They glowed once, twice. Brim's hands eased over his control panel. "Ground link complete," he reported tersely.
    "All hands    to stations for lift-off, Mr. Chairman," Amherst commanded. Brim listened to alarms going off below. "Special-duty spacemen close up!" On the forward deck, lights appeared in the mooring-control cupola. A nearby display showed the two mooring cupolas aft were now manned and ready. All over the bridge, a familiar litany of departure was in full activity. Below, at least ten maintenance analogs were racing along the decks making last-minute checks for loose gear. From the rear of the bridge, Maldive spoke into a dozen interCOMM systems. "Testing alarm systems! Testing alarm systems! Testing...."
    Outside, an indistinct movement on the basin caught Brim's attention. imagination? No-there it was again! Nearly lost in the grayness, a light of some sort was battling through driving ram.
    "Ship approaching from green, yellow-green, Lieutenant Brim," a rating warned from his center console. "Very well, Brim acknowledged. "I'll keep an eye on it." Within ticks, he could make out a darker mass within the gray-which steadily defined itself into an angular shape. A KA'PPA beacon broke clear first among the sheets of driving rain, then a bridge, and finally a hull, riding fast about twenty irals off a flattened, frothing area of water amid the thrashing waves of the storm-swept basin. Brim made out "A.45" on the side of a wing-she was one of a relatively new class of large, fast, and heavily protected destroyers that had been constantly the public eye of late because of their prominent employment in the Empire's critical convoy lifelines. From her bridge she also displayed the flashing triangular device that signaled she carried a flotilla leader aboard. A ship of some consequence, this one, and she approached Truculent's gravity pool with an important mien, drawing to a stop in a sweeping cloud of ice particles as her reversing generators bled off the tremendous momentum she carried.
    "I.F.S. Audacious," Amherst observed with ill-concealed awe as he looked up from a data display. "With Sir Davenport himself aboard. Do you suppose she's the next one for our gravity pool? We could run the next checklists out on the water."
    "Why should we do that?" Collingswood asked with a frown.
    "Well," Amherst said with raised eyebrows. "Sir is Hugh an influential person in The Fleet, after all."
    "And he is at least a quarter metacycle early," Collingswood answered. "We shall clear the mooring in our own good time. You will proceed with our departure in a normal manner, Mr. Amherst."
    "As you wish, Captain," the senior Lieutenant said, a half-troubled timbre in his voice.
    Brim mentally shrugged, storing that tidbit in a safe corner of his mind. If Collingswood wasn't worried about a flotilla leader, then neither was he. He grinned to himself while all around the gravity pool, mooring beams flashed as ratings in the mooring cupolas drew the ship solidly into place. Suddenly, treble-pitched steering engines overlaid the rumbling gravity generators. Truculent's bridge quivered as side thrusts jolted through her spaceframe. "Steering engine thrusts in all quadrants, Lieutenant," the Chairman reported.
    "Very well" Brim said calmly. "Pretaxi check, Mr. Chairman. bridge report...."
    "Bridge is secure, Lieutenant."
    "Electrical?"
    "On generators."
    "Environmentals?"
    "Packs are set for 'flight.'"
    "Auxiliary power?"
    "Running."
    "Launches stowed and secured for deep space," a voice reported at Amherst's console behind him.
    "All working parties on station, Lieutenant," said another voice. "Analogs report decks clear and secure."
    "Pretaxi check complete," Brim announced, forcing himself to relax. He felt the gentle throb of the gravity generators, watched Ursis' face as the Bear made last-minute adjustments to their controls. Truculent was nearly ready for lift-off.
    Suddenly, KA'PPA rings flashed from the waiting ship's high beacon like concentric waves from a pebble in a pool.
    "Message from I.F.S. Audacious," a balding signals yeoman with fat cheeks reported to Collingswood.
    "Very well, Mr. Applewood," Collingswood replied. "I'll have it."
    "'Flotilla leader, the Honorable Commodore Sir Hugh Davenport, I.F. informs I.F.S. Truculent that he is now assigned this gravity pool,'" Applewood read in a high-pitched voice.
    Brim heard Collingswood chuckle. "Is that so?" she asked. "Well, Mr. Applewood, you can make this back to the Honorable, etc., aboard I.F.S. Audacious: 'Pity. Where does the Commodore propose to moor his starship?"'
    "All stations ready to proceed, Captain," Amherst reported-this time almost in a gasp.
    "Lieutenant Brim," Collingswood's voice boomed confidently in the pregnant silence of the bridge, "you may proceed to the takeoff zone when you receive taxi clearance."
    Brin smiled to himself. It was one of those moments he imagined he would recall for the remainder of his life-as long as that might be, considering the going mortality rate for destroyers. "Aye, aye, Captain," he said. "Proceeding to the takeoff zone. Mr. Chairman, have the cupolas single up all moorings," he ordered. Immediately, beams winked out all around the ship until only a single shaft of green remained attached at any of the optical bollards in the jetty walls.
    "All mooring points singled up, Lieutenant," the Chairman reported.
    "Very well, Mr. Chairman," Brim announced quietly, "you may now switch to internal gravity-Quartermaster Maldive on the interCOMM, please."
    "Aye, aye. Lieutenant," Maldive answered from a display.
    "All hands stand by for internal gravity," Maldive's voice echoed from the ship's interCOMM as alarms clattered in the background.
    Brim braced himself as the first sudden rush of nausea swept his stomach. He swallowed hard, forcing his gorge back where it ought to be. Loose articles all over the ship rattled and clanged. He felt sweat break momentarily from his forehead. Then, quickly as it struck, the sensation passed. A muffled thump announced detachment of the ground umbilicals-the ship sagged precariously to port, then righted as her stable platforms adjusted to independent operation. From a corner of his eye, he watched the brow swing away from the hull and retract into the top of the jetty. He glanced at the tracked vehicle-its lenses were still perfectly lined up with his console but now glowing cool green. A white cursor was centered on the foremost surface. He flexed his shoulders and shook his head, smiling to himself-another gravity switch without losing his breakfast. "I'll speak with Ground Control now, Mr. Chairman," he said, glancing quickly at the waiting vehicle on the jetty wall.
    "Ground Control," a narrow face with huge, bushy eyebrows announced from a display.
    "T.83 to Ground," Brim replied. "We're ready to taxi out when you are."
    "Ground to DD T.83," the Controller said. "You're cleared to taxi. And you've got a destroyer standing off your stern."
    "T.83 to Ground: I see that one," Brim replica.
    "DD A.45: hold your position," the controller warned Audacious through another display in the tracked vehicle. Brim overheard Davenport's curt "Holding" through the same round-about means. It provided scant comfort; the waiting destroyer hardly have drawn up any closer to Truculent's gravity pool-nor been placed in a more inconvenient position with regard to the wind. Starships were forbidden to fly over any land areas because overpressure from their gravity generators simply caused too much damage and noise. That ruled out exiting the gravity pool in a normal, forward-running attitude. The same overpressure (and resulting noise levels) also prohibited altitudes higher than thirty irals anywhere within sight of land. And because Audacious blocked any chance for a snubbed swing with mooring beams rigged as old-fashioned spring lines, it was now Brim's difficult task to back the starship around the other destroyer in a high-wind situation. Moreover, he was painfully aware that if he so much as grazed Davenport's spotless new escort, the resulting board of inquiry would destroy his career before it had much of a chance to begin. Wrestling his jangled nerves to a tenuous draw, he shrugged and smiled to himself. Best to be on with it. In the next few cycles, he'd either win all the maneuvering room he wanted-or he would be on his way back to the ore corners. And in no way did he intend a return to Carescria!
    "Ground to DD T.83: wind zero four zero at ninety-one," the Controller reported.
    "T.83 copies," Brim acknowledged, shaking his head. "I'll have a balance on the forward gravity generator, Nik," he said. "Then give me a point ninety-one gradient at zero four." That would at least give him a chance with the wind.
    "Ninety-one gradient at zero four," Ursis repeated.
    The low rumbling of Truculent's forward generator increased as it shouldered the weight of the ship. "Balanced," Ursis reported.
    "Helm's at dead center, Lieutenant," the Chairman announced. "We are ready to move."
    "Stand by," Brim warned. He checked the control settings once more, feeling a balm of resignation soothe his nerves. Trulucent could never-in his wildest nightmares-be as difficult to control as a loaded ore carrier. And he'd mastered them. "Let go all mooring beams," he ordered quietly, eyes glued to the cursor in the center of Ground Control's lenses. Instantly, the beams vanished. "Dead slow astern all," he ordered, feeling sweat break out on his forehead.
    "Dead slow astern," Ursis echoed tensely-the ship began to move.
    With one eye on Audacious, Brim struggled to keep the cursor centered, but in spite of every effort, it started across the glowing lens-sure indication Truculent was drifting upwind. Brim's heart leaped into his mouth. 'Too much gradient, Nik!" he warned. "We're sliding into Audacious."
    "I've got a fix on it," Ursis answered tensely. "Sorry."
    "'S all right," Brim croaked with relief as the drifting slowed and finally ceased-but he didn't breathe again until Truculent was backed all the way off the gravity pool. "Stop together,* he ordered. She was now directly beside Audacious-separated at the stern from Davenport's spotless decks by no more than a score of irals.
    "Stop together," Ursis echoed.
    Now came the tricky part.
    Screwing up his courage again, he ordered, "Dead slow astern, port."
    "Dead slow astern, port." Truculent's bow began to swing sharply toward disaster waiting only irals away.
    "Brim! What in the Universe are you...?" Gallsworthy' growled beside him.
    "It is Lieutenant Brim's helm, Lieutenant Gallsworthy," Collingswood interrupted. "By your orders."
    Brim put them both from his mind. The next ticks were critical. He tensed, waited.... "Quarter astern starboard, dead slow astern port," he uttered with a dry mouth.
    "Quarter astern starboard, dead slow astern port," Ursis echoed. Truculent's bow stopped its swing only an iral or s from Audacious, then slowly began to draw away to safety. This time, the gravity gradient held and-as Brim planned-she continued in a wide turn to port. But an eternity passed before the starship's needle bow finally pointed out on to the rolling waters of the basin.
    Brim never so much as looked back. "Ahead one-quarter, both," he ordered weakly.
    "Ahead one-quarter, both," Ursis echoed-this time with an ear-to-ear grin. He knew.
    At that moment, a display winked into life with the image of Sophia Pym touching thumb to forefinger. "Too bad you can't see Amherst's face," she whispered gleefully. Beside her, Theada's look of astonishment had grown to one of total disbelief.
    While Truculent moved into the relative freedom of the basin, the controller called once more from the jetty: "Ground to DD 183: you're cleared for taxi out to sea marker 981G. See you all next time you're in port. Good hunting!"
    "DD T.83 to Ground," Brim replied. "Proceeding to marker 981G. And thanks." He peered into the driving rain ahead. "I am taking the helm, Mr. Chairman," he announced.
    "You have the helm, Lieutenant Brim," the Chairman acknowledged. For the first time that morning, Brim's hands touched the directional controls. He was now in direct command of the ship itself. Inadvertently, he glanced at Galls-worthy-who was now staring back with unconcealed curiosity.
    "Yes, sir?" Brim asked.
    "Mind your own business, Carescrian," Gallsworthy replied expressionlessly. But somehow the coldness had gone.
    Brim nodded and turned away silently. Now was not the time to work out his basic relationship with this taciturn individual. "Taxi checks, Mr. Chairman," he said. "Lift modifiers?"
    "Fifteen, fifteen, green," the Chairman replied.
    "Yaw dampers and instruments?"
    "Checked."
    "Weight and balance finals?"
    "One sixty-nine five hundred-no significant changes, Lieutenant."
    "Twenty-one point two on the stabilizer. Engineer's taxi check, Nik?"
    "Complete," Ursis growled.
    "Taxi checklist complete," the Chairman pronounced.
    With a feeling of relief, Brim watched the opening to the basin slide past. Truculent was now over open water. "Half ahead both," he said, setting a course for marker 98lG across the ranks of marching waves.
    "Half ahead, both," Ursis echoed.
    During the nearly ten cycles required to taxi into place, Brim made his own final checks of the starship's systems, finishing only moments before the flashing buoy hove into view ahead in the Hyperscreens. "DD T.83 to Harbor Contro1," he announced. "Starship is in sight of marker 981G. Heading two ninety-one." He grinned in spite of himself. "Lift-off checklist, Mr. Chairman," he ordered.
    "Transponders and 'Home' indicator on. 'Fullstop' cell powered. All warning lights on," the Chairman reported.
    "Engineer's check?"
    "Complete," Ursis said.
    "Configuration check.... Antiskid?"
    "Skid is on," replied the Chairman.
    "Speed brake?"
    "Forward."
    "Stabilizer trim-delete the gravity gradient, Mr. Chairman."
    "Gravity gradient eliminated. Ship carries normal twenty-three one on lift-off."
    "Very well, Mr. Chairman. Course indicators, Mr. Gallsworthy?" Brim prompted politely.
    Mind clearly elsewhere for the moment, Gallsworthy jumped in his recliner. "A moment, Lieutenant," he mumbled with a reddening face and busied himself frenetically a$ the course controls. "Set and checked," he croaked at length.
    "Lift-off check comnpleie, Captain Collingswood," Brim announced. "At your command."
    "Your helm, Lieutenant Brim," Collingswood replied from a display, thumb raised to the Hyperscreens-just as a nearby COMM globe flashed its priority pattern and displayed the Harbor Master's face.
    "Harbor Master to DD T.83," he announced. "Hold your position at marker buoy 981G for cross traffic." Collingswood chuckled from her display and smiled understandingly.
    "Holding," Brim grumped. "Full speed reverse, both," he said to Ursis' image.
    "Full speed reverse, both," the Bear echoed. Truculent glided to a hovering stop just short of the tossing buoy.
    "All stop."
    "All stop."
    "Steering engine's amidships," the Chairman announced.
    In the driving ram outside the ship, Brim could see neither sky nor horizon; but twenty-five irals below, the sea's great swells were thick and black looking, peppered with ice rubble. Abruptly, a chance break in the downpour revealed the specter of another mass looming from the grayness-this one infinitely larger than Audacious. It quickly defined itself as the profile of a monster starship moving rapidly in Truculent's direction near the surface of the water. Scant moments later, she fairly burst from the storm, majestic and powerful, sea creaming away ahead of the roiling, foaming footprint she punched deep in the flattened surface, a haze of spray lifting hundreds of irals in her wake to rival the clouds themselves. Brim gasped in spite of himself. Perhaps no one in the galaxy could mistake that grand panorama of stacked bridges, great casemated turrets, and wide-shouldered, tapering hull: Iaith Galad, one of the three greatest battlecruisers ever constructed-and sister ship to Nimue, in which the famous Star Admiral Merlin Emrys was lost (nearly two years ago now, if Brim's memory served him). Waves of chill marched his back in icy regiments. To serve as Helmsman on something like her! He shook his head in resignation. Carescrians didn't get assignments like that.
    But what a dream.
    "We shall require a salute, Lieutenant Amherst," Collingswood's voice prompted.
    "Aye, Captain," Amherst replied. Immediately, glowing KA'PPA rings shimmered out from Truculent's beacon in the age-old Imperial salute, "MAY STARS LIGHT ALL THY PATHS."
    Brim had to crane his head back to see Iaith Galad's beacon when she made her traditional reply: "AND THY PATHS, STAR TRAVELERS." He glimpsed tiny figures peering down from the vast panoply of Hyperscreens atop her towering bridge as she passed. One of them waved. Then, quickly as she appeared, she was gone, swallowed again in the gloom. Truculent bounced heavily in her gravity wake while a deluge of spray from the warship's backwash cascaded in sheets over the Hyperscreens and decks below. Then the destroyer steadied and the sea rolled again beneath the hull as if the great starship had never passed.
    *DD T.83: you now are cleared for immediate takeoff," the Harbor Master announced. "Wind is zero four at one oh three. Heavy battlecruiser just landed reports considerable turbulence on final: your path."
    "Thank you very much," Brim acknowledged, then looked Ursis' image in the eye and winked. "Finally," he whispered, then louder, "Full speed ahead."
    The Bear nodded. "Good luck," he mouthed silently. "Full speed ahead." Immediately, Truculent's two oversized gravity generators began to thunder deep in the starship's hull, shaking the whole spaceframe.
    While thrust built, Brim held the bucking, vibrating starship in place with gravity brakes. He got a definite feeling the devices were only just adequate for the job, and was distinctly glad to hear Gallsworthy's voice when it came.
    "Lights are on-you've got takeoff thrust!"
    Brim released the brakes. "Full military ahead, both, Nik!" he bellowed over the roar of the generators.
    "Full military ahead, both," Ursis answered. The noise intensified and Truculent began to creep forward.
    Brim managed a last glance aft through the rain. Gimmas Haefdon's huge rolling waves were now flattened in a wide, flowing trough that extended out from their stern to a huge cloud building skyward at the very limits of his vision. Then the ship was suddenly racing over the water and no time remained for thoughts, only reflexes and habits. Stabilizers and lift modifiers, helm and thrust controllers. And even his long afternoon simulating on the bridge was poor preparation for the destroyer's astonishing acceleration. "Great-thraggling-Universe!" he gasped.
    "Moves right out, doesn't she?" Ursis commented through a grinning mouthful of teeth.
    Awed, Brim watched the surface rush by for only ticks before Gallsworthy's voice beside him announced, "ALPHA velocity." Then he carefully rotated the destroyer's nose upward a specified increment for lift-off. Truculent was smooth and responsive on the controls-almost skittish. She was his first real thoroughbred, a hundred light-years beyond even the best of the training ships he had flown.
    "BETA velocity," Gallsworthy announced a few moments later, then, "Positive climb." Within ticks, Truculent was thundering through Gimmas Haefdon's heavy cloud cover, bumping heavily in the everlasting turbulence.
    "Haul 'em both back to full speed ahead, Nik," Brim ordered.
    "Full speed ahead, both," the Bear verified. Generator noise in the bridge subsided considerably.
    "DD T.83: contact departure one two zero point six," the Harbor Master called. "Good hunting, Truculents!" The transmission faded quickly as they broke out in smooth air above the overcast-dirty gray billows that extended forever and forever in Ginmmas Haefdon's weak sunlight.
    "Departure Control to DD T.83," said a woman's face in the display. "You are cleared Hypo-light to the Lox'Sands-98 buoy, zone orange-with immediate transition to Hyper-Drive on arrival. Good-bye from Gimmas Haefdon. And good luck, Truculent."
    "T.83 to Departure Control," Brim seconded, "proceeding Lox'Sands-98 buoy, zone orange with immediate Hyperlight transition on arrival. Thanks, Gimmas Haefdon. See you next time." Before he finished speaking, Truculent swept through the planet's atmosphere and was streaking along in darkness on the edge of outer space. He busied himself with additional checkout routines and monitored the ship's systems for the next few cycles, keeping a wary eye on his LightSpeed indicator as the ship accelerated. "Let's cut in the Drive, Nik," he said presently. "Lieutenant Gallsworthy, will you call out the readings?"
    Ursis winked and kissed his fingertips. "Drive shutters open. Activating Drive crystals," he echoed. "Firing number one." A single shaft of green light extended far out into the blackness aft. Instantly, Hyperscreens dimmed to protect the bridge occupants while a deep, businesslike grumble joined the roar of the gravity generators.
    "Point seven five LightSpeed. Point eight," Gallsworthy called out.
    "Readouts normal," the Chairman reported.
    Ursis nodded, cross-checking his own instruments. Apparently satisfied, he went on to the next: "Firing two. Firing three."
    "Point eight five LightSpeed," Gallswoithy continued. "Point nine."
    "Firing four."
    Truculent's light-limited gravity generators were now just about played out. In the forward Hyperscreens, the first glowing sheets of Gandom's ve effect were already crackling along the starship's deck when Brim turned his attention outside.
    "Point nine seven LightSpeed."
    Presently, the visible Universe became laced by a fine network of pulsing brilliance spreading jaggedly from the last visible stars as if the whole firmament were about to shatter into the very pebbles of creation. Now all he had to do was pass the Lox'Sands-98 buoy. The ship would have to tell him when-until the Drive could be deployed, Truculent's bridge crew was virtually blind to the outside Universe.
    Suddenly: "Lox'Sands-98 buoy in the wake, Lieutenant Brim," the Chairman confirmed. Brim smiled with anticipation. "That's it, Nik," he said. "Half ahead, all crystals."
    "Half ahead, all crystals," Ursis echoed. Quiet thunder from Truculent's four Drive crystals joined the roar of her straining gravity generators, the starscape wobbled and shimmered, then blended to an angry red kaleidoscope ahead until space itself came to an end in a wilderness of shifting, multicolored sparks. When this phenomenon (the Daya-Peraf transition) at last subsided, the LightSpeed indicator had moved through 1.0 and began to climb rapidly again as Truculent's Drive crystals took over the job of hurtling her through Hyperspace.
    "Finished with gravity generators," Brim announced.
    "Gravity generators spooling down," Ursis confirmed.
    Immediately, the Hyperscreen panels darkened while their crystalline lattices were synchronized with the Drive-then they cleared once more, blazing with the full majesty of the Universe. On this side of the LightSpeed barrier, however, flowing green Drive plumes trailed the ship for at least two c'lenyts surrounded by a whirling green wake as Truculent's Hyperspace shock wave bled off mass and negative time ("Tneg" of historic Travis equations) in accordance with the complex system of Travis Physics. In a few moments, the noise of the generators faded completely and Gallsworthy once more caught his eye.
    "Yes, sir?" the surprised Carescrian asked, braced for still another rebuff.
    A shadow of humor passed the senior Helmsman's reddened eyes, before they clouded again. "You may have proved a point or two this morning, Brim," he allowed emotionlessly. "I shall take over now and let you watch the scenery."
    Jolted, Brim suddenly understood he had just received rare praise from this taciturn officer and groped for something appropriate to say. Then he brought himself up short with the sure realization that words were tools Gallsworthy simply didn't understand. "Thank you, Lieutenant," he said matter-of-fact. "I should be glad for a moment to relax."
    When control was subsequently restored to the left-hand console, Brim settled back in his recliner and closed his eyes for a moment, smiling inwardly. It was a morning of two victories so far as he was concerned-though few of the Imperials on Truculent's bridge could have logically explained why. As thralls to Avalon's Galactic Empire, Carescrians were rarely praised for anything they accomplished. Most became highly adept at ferreting out life's little triumphs wherever and whenever they could be found. And even Gallsworthy's acceptance of his flying skills could in no way match Brim's satisfaction in the sour look still manifested on Amherst's long, homely face.
    Truculent was well on her way to war-so was Wilf Brim.

Baldwin, Bill - The Helmsman Chapter 3