The Forever Hero (31 page)

“Affirm one plus.”

“Stet.”

He turned back to the unfamiliar bridge board.

“Captain.” This time the voice did not come from a distant channel, but from the suited figure to his right, from the opening portal where Lostwin stood.

“Crew totally secured and unconscious. Ship will be flushed and clean within twenty.”

Gerswin nodded, part of the tightness in his gut subsiding.

Lostwin settled himself into the O.D.'s swivel, trying to match what he'd studied and the board of the freighter against the small ships he had piloted.

“Captain, red team leader. Estimate thirty plus for unsuit time. Nav indicates after first jump point.”

“Stet.”

“Navigation to bridge. All systems green. Course feed complete.”

“Stet.”

“Engineering to bridge. All systems green.”

“Stet.”

“Hangar deck to bridge. Transfer complete, and visitors clear.”

“Screens dropped for departure?”

“That's affirmative.”

“Guns to Captain Black, diversion complete and green.”

“Stet.”

Gerswin took a deep breath within the confines of the suit, exhaled, and began to move his gauntleted fingers across the board.

At last, he touched the pulsing green stud that would mesh the inputs and boost the
Sanducar
from orbit to the first jump point.

“Landspout, this is Captain Black. We are green and departing. Green and departing.”

“Stet. See you later.”

Gerswin watched the screens, the course line display that represented where the
Sanducar
was headed, and the real-time monitor that showed the blackness outside, punctuated with unwinking stars. He watched the screens, the familiar displays in unfamiliar positions, his face blank, expressionless behind the suitshield.

As the outward velocity of the
Sanducar
mounted, he saw a spark break from the small circle captioned “New Glascow” on the representational screen.

“Comm, any interrogatories?”

“Standard inquiries from planetary ops and from the geosynch high ops, but we're farside. Not much they can do. We're maintaining full-band silence.”

“What's the breakway?”

“Breakway is high speed shuttle. Has the
Sanducar
's C.O. Guess he's afraid of being left.”

“Any combat ships?”

“No other energy concentrations.”

“Navigation, interrogative closest approach of shuttle.”

“He's already past CPA. We're clear to jump point.”

“Stet.”

Clear to jump point meant clear to Old Earth, and clear to unload nearly two cohorts of dozers, and get them operating before they could be easily reclaimed. But Old Earth would be exactly where his real troubles began, Gerswin reflected.

Lerwin had protested being excluded, but there had to be someone officially innocent should things go wrong, someone who could pick up the pieces.

Gerswin shook his head, still watching the screens, still waiting to insure that no untoward Impie combatant appeared from nowhere, waiting until the real battles began.

“Commander Gerswin to the Ops center. Commander Gerswin to the Ops center.”

The senior commander under summons swung his feet off the narrow bunk and sat upright, pulling his boots onto his feet.

Buzzz! Buzzzz!

He ignored the harsh noise from his console. He had no doubt about the reason for the summons, none whatsoever.

He smiled and took a deep breath. After all the years, the room—and he had never put in for a suite, which he rated—still smelled like a mixture of wilted trilia and machine oil. It always would, he supposed, not that it was likely he would be the one worrying about it for much longer.

As he finished fastening the undress black tunic, he was through
the portal and into the main corridor. It was empty, unsurprisingly, since it was just before dawn local Old Earth time. Then, the Imperial Interstellar Survey Service had never operated on anything other than New Augustan Imperial District time, and by that clock, it was mid-morning.

Lerwin, wearing his new linked diamonds of commander, met him at the Operations portal.

“They're here, Captain. Upset, too.”

“Did they announce it?” asked Gerswin with the same disinterested smile.

“In their own way. Arrived with five corvettes, two destroyers, and a battlecruiser. That's a full battle group.”

“Lunar pick-up?”

“Right. No comm link yet.”

“Open a link with them. Welcome them and ask innocently what we can do for them.”

“What?”

“No sense in acting guilty, is there? Or giving them an excuse to use all that firepower?”

Lerwin nodded slowly.

“And…Lerwin…,” the senior commander added slowly, “hope those dozers are well dispersed and very actively reclaiming the land.”

“We already did that. They can't get them without destroying everything we've reclaimed, and then some.”

The dark-haired executive officer with the eyes like an eagle smiled. Both his smile and that of the commandant were like sun over the northern ice, like the moon above winter tundra.

The two turned together wordlessly and strode through the portal and into the Operations section.

“Captain, there's an admiral out there!”

“They wouldn't send less, would they?” Gerswin cleared his throat. “I'll speak to him. Put him on the main screen. That way everyone in the base can see. Make sure you catch a cube of it. We might find it helpful…later.”

The image on the central screen in front of Gerswin flickered blue once, then focused on an officer with iron gray hair, a man wearing the drab gray of ship battle dress, distinguished only by the silver stars and joining bar on his collars.

“Welcome, Admiral,” offered the senior commander, his vagueness deliberate since he hadn't the faintest idea which of the Empire's several dozen admirals he was addressing.

“I appreciate the courtesy,” returned the I.S.S. functionary, “and would appreciate the opportunity to speak with Senior Commander Gerswin.”

“Speaking.”

“So you're Gerswin…I could believe that.” The admiral stiffened his already stiff bearing and lifted a single sheet of permafax into view. “Senior Commander Gerswin, by virtue of the authority vested in me by His Imperial Majesty, I hereby relieve you of your command. That command is temporarily transferred to the authority of Battle Group Delta Seven, pending outcome of the forthcoming Board of Inquiry proceedings.

“You are requested to make yourself available for interview, and for possible trial under the articles of the Service. Pending the outcome of the inquiry, Senior Commander Beloit will be acting as Commandant, I.S.S. Reclamation Base, Old Earth.”

Gerswin raised his hand. “One question, Admiral. Or two. Who are you? And with what have I been charged, if anything?”

The chill in the admiral's eyes was clear, even through the screen transmission. “Senior Commander, right now, you are charged with nothing. Any possible charges will await the outcome of all phases of the investigation of the irregular transfer of two cohorts of Imperial arcdozers from the Marine Engineering Command to the Reclamation Base, Old Earth. Under the Emperor's orders, I am conducting phase one of the inquiry.”

Gerswin, while remaining at attention, smiled slightly. “You have yet to identify either yourself or the orders under which you are operating. Without such verification, I am not empowered to surrender my command, even in the face of the superior force which you have mustered.”

Gerswin heard several hisses of indrawn breath around the Operations center. Even Lerwin had taken a step away from him at the last statement.

“Please be so kind, Senior Commander, as to activate your authentication system.”

Gerswin nodded twice at the technician across the center. Three half-hearted jabs later, the panel blinked amber twice and settled onto the green.

“Authentication on.”

The admiral placed his own verifax sheet into a similar device, and waited, still ramrod stiff in the screen.

“Admiral Ferrin,” whispered Lerwin, out of range of the screen focused on Gerswin.

The authenticator blinked green twice.

“Apparently your orders are genuine,” admitted the senior commander. “What would you like me to do, Admiral Ferrin?”

“A shuttle will be arriving with the first members of the investigation team. They will interview every I.S.S. member in your command with two exceptions. I will interview you and your executive officer, Commander Lerwin, after all other interviews are complete.

“Senior Commander Beloit will also be arriving to take temporary command. I would appreciate it if you would remain in the general vicinity of the main base while the investigation is being conducted.”

“Yes, ser. Will that be all?”

“For now, Senior Commander Gerswin. For now.”

“Yes, ser.”

The admiral nodded briskly, and the screen blanked.

“They're out to get you, Captain.”

“Blasting inquiry!”

“Why so harsh?”

“They'll try him and never let him go.”

“How many bodies do they want?”

“All of us?”

“All of us.”

Gerswin stood silent until the comments died away. Waited until all those who had seen the Imperial transmission had gathered around him.

“Think,” he began quietly. “Do they really want to admit to the Empire, to the whole Galaxy, that their old battered and tattered home planet had to steal dozers to reclaim itself? Do they really want to create that kind of image? Do they want to make a martyr out of me or anyone else?”

He shook his head, as if to emphasize his points.

“They can't do anything about the dozers. But they'll come down like tacheads on anyone who is defiant, insubordinate, or whom they find guilty of any easily documented transgression.

“Be polite. Be helpful. Tell the truth, always the truth, but volunteer nothing. Since it's allowed, insist on copies of your statements for your own records. That's allowed. Then send copies to Service HQ for the official hearing files. That's also allowed.”

He could see the frowns, the puzzled expressions.

“Two people can sometimes keep a secret, but three never can, not about something this big.”

He paused, then decided to reemphasize a point.

“Remember, if you don't know about something from your own
firsthand knowledge, don't discuss it. That can only get you into trouble. If you do know, limit your discussion to the facts. The facts are our allies.”

He surveyed the room again.

“Don't…get…them…angry,” he concluded, spacing each word for emphasis. “Don't give them the slightest excuse.”

He smiled, and his expression was colder than the moon's dark side.

“It's time to get ready for the temporary commandant.”

The admiral picked up the executive summary, waved it once, and dropped it on the long green table.

“You know what this is worth? That's what it's worth.”

None of the other Service officers around the table spoke. No one opened his or her mouth.

“I take it that you all agree?”

Vice Admiral Boedekkr nodded her head slowly up and down.

“Admiral Boedekkr. Your thoughts?”

“The same as yours, Admiral. We know the
Sanducar
was diverted. We even have solid evidence in some cases. We could probably prove it in a court martial. But what would we gain? We would prove to most of mankind that we care nothing about Old Earth. It isn't true, but that is what such a trial would indicate. We could make the Emperor look foolish by denying all the press reports of his good will and largess toward our parent planet. And, also to be considered is how foolish the Service would look.”

“Foolish?” questioned a white-haired admiral.

“Foolish,” repeated Admiral Boedekkr. “First, the ease with which a heavy Imperial freighter was diverted would have to come out. Second, we would look like we were trying to punish some idealistic officers for making us look foolish and for doing what most people think was right. And last, to the Imperial Senate, we would look as if we were trying to weaken the Emperor's position.

“Then, too, by issuing denials of the press releases that were circulated to the major media in who knows how many systems, we would end up making the media look as silly as we would. All in all, prosecution seems unwise.”

“Why?” demanded a commodore from the end of the table, as if he had ignored her entire argument.

“Because, Commodore,” and her flint eyes bored into the man, “in addition to the entire argument you have apparently ignored, I would not wish to put the Emperor in the position of denying reclamation efforts on Old Earth. Nor am I terribly anxious to admit that a handful of Service personnel managed to divert a major amount of Imperial resources and a freighter without our even knowing about it until the ship disappeared for an unknown destination. Furthermore,
we could not even follow up until they kindly returned both our ship and a ducal yacht with the crews unharmed.”

“Almost unharmed,” corrected the commodore.

“Thank you, Admiral,” nodded the senior admiral at the head of the review board. “Most important, it would be difficult to prove other than circumstantially exactly who was responsible for what. Not one of the ship's crew saw any of the pirates. Nor can the Duke's personnel identify whether or not their passengers were associated with those who took over the yacht. We have conflicting reports of someone impersonating the Duke, and the Duke, of course, is most reluctant to press that charge unless we can prove it beyond any doubt whatsoever.

“All we have are two cohorts of arcdozers which are busily reclaiming sections of Old Earth, and demonstrating to the Empire that Emperors keep their commitments.”

“So we're going to hold a court martial to prove it's all a hoax and return those dozers to a training hellhole in Gamma sector?” he asked rhetorically.

“Wrong,” he answered himself quietly. “But we won't let the guilty get away with it, either. The Service takes care of its own, one way or another.”

“How?” asked the vice admiral to his left, the vice chairman of the review board.

“Thank you, Virl, for asking the question on schedule.”

The two grinned at each other.

“We have a solution. One that will give the Emperor great credit for taking an important step toward reclaiming Old Earth. One that will remove the financial burden of Old Earth from the Service and return it to the Senate and the Court, and one that will send a clear message to everyone in the Service who knows without alerting anyone else.”

His voice became matter-of-fact. “Obviously, you must approve the solution, but, if approved, the whole incident becomes a lesson learned relatively cheaply. We got the ship back. The Emperor will get the credit, and our budget will benefit. And we have a chance to change shipboard procedures so this cannot happen again.”

“Might I ask you to outline the solution?” That was Vice Admiral Boedekkr.

“Shortly, the Emperor will announce that Old Earth needs a special effort. He will declare the formation of the Imperial Reclamation and Reconstruction Corps—Recorps, for short. Recorps personnel will be recruited locally from Old Earth and from volunteers through
out the Empire. Any officers and technicians now at Old Earth Base may transfer without prejudice, and with good recommendations to Recorps in order to take advantage of their experience and dedication.”

“In effect, it becomes a lifetime tour on Old Earth?”

“Assume those who don't elect to transfer will face some ‘prejudice,' if you want to put it that way.”

“Will it work?”

The admiral waited, then cleared his throat.

“Those who choose not to volunteer, in order for the Service to avoid ‘conflicts of interest,' must elect another home of record and will sign a release acknowledging that they will never be stationed in that quadrant again. Further, because of various Service-related difficulties, they will have to accept a marginally satisfactory rating for their last Old Earth tour. If they remain in Service, unless they truly accomplish a heroic deed, they will probably never be considered for promotion beyond captain or their present rank, if they are already above the rank of captain.”

“Clever.”

“Very neat.”

“Marvelous.”

Vice Admiral Boedekkr did not join in the comments. She alone smiled faintly, and leaned back in her swivel.

Admiral Roeder observed her silence and made a mental note to follow up. He wanted to know what her reservations were. In the meantime, he tapped the gavel.

“Follow-up briefings will begin after lunch.”

The flag officers filed out on each side of the long green table, most with their shoulders high, as if an enormous weight had been lifted from them.

Roeder refrained from shaking his head. Most still didn't understand how they had been maneuvered, and he didn't know whether he was glad they didn't, or appalled at their density.

He twisted his lips in a thin smile before he set down the gravel and left to follow the others.