Starhunt: A Star Wolf Novel (17 page)

Korie looks at Rogers, as if seeing him for the first time. He glances back at the screens once more to reassure himself that he has not made a mistake too, then says to the other, “All right, Rogers. You can have your board back.” He levers himself out of the chair.

Rogers waits until the first officer steps past, then slips back into his position at the console. His expression is sullen.

Bridger, a quiet man with a bony face, leans over and touches his arm. “Relax, he didn’t mean anything by it. He just had to see for himself.” Rogers doesn’t reply.

Back in the bridge, both Barak and Brandt look at Korie. “Well—?”

“Nothing.” He slams himself into his couch. “The scanners check out okay.”

“Then the bogie’s gone—” Barak.

Brandt nods slowly. “While we were sneaking in, he was sneaking out.”

“Do you suppose,” says Barak, “that he might have been trying to sneak up on us during the thirty-four hours that we were trying to sneak up on him?”

Korie shakes his head at the thought. Brandt considers it. “It’s possible, but—”

“Mr. Barak,” says Korie. “In the computer, coded under BOGIE, you will find a set of preliminary search patterns, spiraling outward from this point. They’ll cover the activities of this ship for the next nine hours. I would appreciate it if you would set them up on the boards, please.”

Barak looks to Brandt; the captain nods.

“Also in the computer,” Korie continues, “coded under BOGIE II, you will find a search pattern that will cover the next three days of ship’s activities. Would you please set that one up on standby?”

Again Barak looks to Brandt; again the captain nods.

“Also,” Korie adds, “you will find supplementary search programs coded under BOGIE III and BOGIE IV. Those are prolonged-search programs—I hope we won’t need them.”

The captain nods a third time. “Good thinking, Mr. Korie. I’m glad you planned ahead. Now, if I may see both of you gentlemen in my cabin—” He rises and leaves the bridge.

Korie and Barak exchange a glance. Barak pauses to give an order to Jonesy, then they follow the captain aft.

Morality—like velocity—is relative. The determination of it depends on what the objects around you are doing. All one can do is measure one’s position in relation to them; never can one measure one’s velocity or morality in terms of absolutes.

—JARLES “FREE FALL” FERRIS,

Philosophy and Relativity: A Survey of Ideas

The captain is standing by his table. “Come in, gentlemen.”

Korie follows Barak into the room, a thoughtful, almost skeptical expression on his face.

“Close the door, please.”

Korie does so.

Brandt looks from one to the other; the husky, heavyset black astrogator and the lanky, pale first officer. He weighs his words carefully. “We have made a—what you might call a valiant effort to catch this bogie—”

Korie snorts.

Brandt ignores it. “—But I think the time has come to assess the situations realistically. First of all, I should like to congratulate you, Mr. Korie—and you too, Mr. Barak—on the fine way you handled yourselves and the crew this morning. I’m impressed by the skill and speed that was displayed in the precision handling of the ship during the attack maneuver. The response to orders has rarely been as prompt as it was today. Uh, my compliments to both of you for the fine manner in which you have trained and prepared this crew and this ship. I am entering a note of recommendation into the log.”

Brandt drops his gaze to the table beside him, rearranges some papers on it. “Now, as for the bogie—of course, we will search for him.” He looks up again, abruptly. “There is certainly the chance that his is still in the area. However—it is much more likely that we have lost him for good. We should—be aware of that—and consider it in our future decisions—”

Korie is looking at him strangely; Barak too. Brandt hurries on. “I—I think we’ve won something out of this experience—a moral victory. We’ve proven that the
Burlingame
can be a responsible member of the United Systems Fleet. The autolog, of course, will confirm this to the High Command that we’ve—in effect, lifted ourselves by our own bootstraps. We’re more than just a backwater patrol boat—and—and that’s something that we can be proud of.

“Now, we will, uh—continue the search long enough to be sure that the enemy is not still in the area—and then we will head for home. I trust that—”

“Sir—” It is Korie.

Frowning at the interruption: “Yes, Mr. Korie?”

“Sir, I would like it entered in the log that I opposed this course of action to begin with.”

“This course of action—?”

“The maneuver we have just completed—the low-speed attempt to sneak up on the bogie. I would like to go on record as having recommended an alternate course of action from the one we followed. If you will remember, I wanted to go in at high speed from the start.”

“Uh, yes—” Brandt pauses for a moment, slightly taken aback. He licks his lips carefully. “All right. Yes, of course—uh, by all means, we’ll enter it in the log. Who knows? You may have been right, Mr. Korie, but—the decision was mine to make, and I believed I was acting correctly at the time. I chose the course of action which seemed to me to be the best. There is no way of knowing whether or not it was—”

“Except that we’ve lost the kill.”

“There is that, but—”

“If we had gone in the way I had wanted to, we would have taken only eight hours to close with him. It’d have been only one-fourth the time and we probably would have caught him trying to sneak away.”

“Mr. Korie, we thoroughly discussed all of these possibilities on the bridge, thirty-five or thirty-six hours ago. I do not feel like going over it again. I chose the course of action which seemed to me the best—”

“And it was wrong—”

Brandt looks at him coldly. “I do not think that either of us is in a position to make that kind of assessment. If any of my command decisions turn out to be
obviously
wrong, I will be the first to admit the error.”

Korie meets his gaze firmly. “Yes, sir.”

Brandt takes a breath. “Do you have anything to say on this matter, Mr. Barak?”

Barak’s expression is noncommittal. “No, sir. My job is to execute the decisions, not make them.”

“Mm,” says Brandt, slightly displeased with the answer. “All right.” His manner changes, becomes more abrupt. “Now, about this search pattern—”

“Sir—” Korie again.

Slightly annoyed: “You could let me finish, Mr. Korie.”

“Sir. I would like to recommend—”

“Why don’t you
first
wait to hear what I have to say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What I was going to say was that we should continue the search for as long as necessary to determine that the bogie is no longer in this area. I think the standard-pattern search procedure should do. Mr. Barak. At the end of, say, twelve hours, if we still haven’t picked up a shimmer, we can safely assume that the enemy has vacated this sector, and we can head for home. Mr. Korie—?” The captain indicates with a gesture, almost mocking, that now he may express his opinions, if any.

Korie does have opinions. “First of all, the standard-pattern search procedure
will not
do. That procedure is used mainly for rescue operations and rendezvous. It is not a battle maneuver. It can be consciously evaded. Now, the patterns I have set up—the ones already in the computer—are three-dimensional spirals with random deviations to allow for the enemy’s evasive maneuvers.

“A standard search covers a limited area, one in which you know your target is supposed to be. My search patterns cover an ever-expanding sphere because—as you said yourself—we do not know here the bogie is. The point of my search patterns is to
find him
.

“I believe that the standard procedure should also suffice to fill that purpose—”

Korie snorts. “And we’ll lose the bogie again. Your standard patterns will allow you to put on a show for the crew and for the High Command—so they won’t think you gave up too easily—but if that other captain is as clever as he’s supposed to be, the only way we’re going to find him is to be unorthodox in our searching.” He stops abruptly. The captain’s features are grim.

“Mr. Korie,” he says slowly. “I am not ‘putting on a show’ for anyone, as you put it.”

“Sir, you admit your first battle decision may have been in error—excuse me, too cautious—why not let me have a chance with this one? We still may be able to catch that ship.”

Brandt starts to say something, then changes his mind. For a moment, his gaze is inward, thoughtful. “All right, we’ll try your patterns for twelve hours—”

“That won’t be enough.”

“How much time
do
you need?”

“I don’t know, I’m not sure,” Korie says quickly. “The effectiveness of this procedure requires that we take the time to check a large area of space, as large as possible—that means we need as much time as possible.”

“How
much
time?”

“As much as we’ve got—”

“Give me a figure, Mr. Korie. Two days? Three days?”

Korie says, “I don’t know, wait a minute. Let me think—Al,” he turns to Barak, “how far are we from home.”

Barak scratches his head. “Let’s see, ten light days at 174 lights plus another fifty-six days—about five-and-half light years.”

“Eleven days’ traveling time at top speed, right?”

“Right.”

“And how many days of power do we have left in our cells?”

“Um, a little less than forty.”

“All right—” Korie does some hasty figuring. “Let’s say we need fifteen days of power to get home from here. I’ll take half the difference—” He turns to Brandt. “—fifteen days.”

“Out of the question. You leave us no margin for error.”

“My search spirals won’t take us fifteen days of traveling distance away from here—coming back won’t take more than seven days, maybe less—there’s your margin.”

“Still out of the question. You’re cutting it way too close.”

“All right, not half the difference, a third—ten days.”

Brandt considers it.

“Plus—” Korie adds, “one day’s worth of power for the missiles. Eight hours’ cruising range for each, plus time to unwarp, drop them, and rewarp.”

Brandt looks at Barak; the astrogator remains noncommittal; he looks back at Korie. “I don’t like it. You can have ten days, Mr. Korie. Ten days. No more. If you don’t find your bogie by then, we head for home.”

“All right,” Korie says. “I’ll take it.”

“Fine,” says the captain. “I don’t want you to say I didn’t give you a fair chance. You do think ten days is a fair chance, don’t you?”

“Under the circumstances—yes.”

“Good.” He pauses, eyes Korie speculatively. Almost mockingly, he asks, “Would you go on record with that? That is, may we enter it in the log?”

The first officer exhales loudly. “Yes, sir.”

“Fine.”

“May I be excused now, sir? I’d like to go to the bridge and see that the search patterns are being properly initiated—after all. I assume my ten days have already started.”

“Yes, they have. All right, you’re excused.”

“Thank you, sir.” The door slides shut behind him.

There is no way to command loyalty. Like respect, it must be earned.

—ROGER BURLINGAME,

The Officer’s Handbook

Brandt looks at Barak. “You have something to say, Al?” Barak doesn’t look back at him, he studies his fingernails instead. “I don’t think so.”

“But you’re thinking it, aren’t you—?”

Barak looks up sharply.

“I can see it in your face,” Brandt explains. “There’s something—bothering you.”

Barak eyes the captain carefully. Brandt’s face is hard-chiseled granite. The astrogator knows the appearance is deceptive, but Brandt’s eyes are steely.

Barak says, “Well, sir—if you really must know, I think Korie is right.”

“About what?”

“About the bogie, sir—about the best course of action to have taken, I think we should have gone in at top speed, too.”

“Mmm,” says Brandt, making a wry face. He turns slightly away. “You don’t think I made the right choice.” A statement, not a question.

“No, sir; I don’t.”

“Ah, tell me, Al,” Brandt looks at him again. In a slightly sharper tone of voice, “Why do you think I made such a decision?”

Barak shrugs. “You—had your reasons—I guess—”

“And what do you think those reasons were—?”

The astrogator shakes his head. “I wouldn’t presume to—”

“Take a guess.”

“Captain, sir—” Barak’s tone is suddenly stiff. “I learned a long time ago not to question the orders of my superior officers. Usually they have reasons I don’t know about—”

“That’s true, Al; but I want you to understand those reasons—”

“If you please, sir—I’d rather not. It might affect the performance of my duties to know such things. My job is to work out the mechanics of your decisions; I don’t need to understand
why
you make them.”

“And you’re not curious—?”

“You might say I don’t want to be involved—you might tell me something that would change my opinion of someone I have to work with—and that might affect my performance of my duties.”

Brandt nods slowly, a careful understanding. “Sit down, Al.” He gestures at a chair.

The astrogator crosses the room in three steps and takes a seat. The spindly wooden frame creaks under his weight. His gaze is on the captain; Brandt has moved to face him from the opposite side of the room.

“You know,” he says, “your reasons for not wanting to know more are very perceptive—they indicate to me that you already suspect why I made the decision the
way I did.” He frowns thoughtfully, then says quietly, “What do you think of Korie?”

“Korie—? Why he’s a—an intelligent officer and and—”

Brandt looks at him wryly. “Go on. . . .”

Brandt takes a breath. “Sir, Mr. Korie is a fine officer; a little too much by the book perhaps, but still a fine officer. He knows his ship better than any man I’ve ever seen; he has very high standards and he expects the men and equipment to live up to them.”

“And if they don’t?”