THE HELMSMAN: Director's Cut Edition (31 page)

“You suppose they kept a few for perimeter defense?” Ursis mused. “Like ultraheavy patrol craft.”

Brim grimaced. “For perimeter defense maybe, but surely not as patrol ships. I doubt if two-hundreds are maneuverable enough for that kind of work.” He shook his head. “No, Nik, it's my guess that old DN-291 comes out only for special projects. “

“Special projects?” Theada asked.

“Of course,” Ursis interrupted with a grin. “With a flotilla of so-called
civilian
patrol craft. Correct?”

“I think so, Nik,” Brim said, watching a blue navigational beacon wink far off to port. “It's the way I'd set things up myself, probably.”

“I don't follow you,” Theada said.

“Nor do I,” Amherst complained from the hatchway. “You Carescrians are certainly not very articulate. It probably has something to do with your second-rate educational standards.”

Brim gritted his teeth. “Must be, sir,” he said. “I only formed the idea while we were talking.”

“Well?”

“Yes, sir. The way I see things, Colonel Dark's fears that our spy was compromised appear to have been well founded.”

“What does that have to do with the cruiser?” Amherst interrupted nervously.

“I think DN-291 is part of a special group, Lieutenant,” Brim grunted as the little astroplane abruptly swerved to nadir in a gravity draft. “And the patrol ships supporting her include the supposedly commercial/civilian ships that have been tripping our authentication key for the last watch or so.” He thought for a moment while he gentled the ship back on course. “My guess is that they're out to catch both our spy
and
the ship sent to bring him out.”

“It explains why we haven't seen any
regular
patrol ships,” Ursis added.

“Make sense to you?” Brim asked Theada.

“Yeah, Wilf,” Theada agreed, looking up from a navigational fix. “It does.”

“I suppose it
does
make some sense,” Amherst volunteered. “I never had much hope we would find this 'spy' of theirs. Perhaps we should abort the mission and return home immediately. “

Brim raised his eyebrows. “Oh, no, sir,” he ejaculated. “I never suggested
anything
like aborting the mission. We'll simply have to be a bit more cautious when we go in — maybe skip the first window and just skirt the area.”

Suddenly, Amherst's face went pale and sweat began beading on his forehead again. “No?” he cried sharply. “Well, I am in command of this ship, and I say we return home now, before we catch up with that battleship.”

“Cruiser, sir.”

“Whatever
it is, I order you to turn back now!” Amherst demanded.

“But, sir,” Brim protested, “we can't just turn around and leave without at least
trying
to pick up that spy. Why, something like that would be murder, plain and simple. We've
got
to make at least a couple of tries.”

“How
dare
you question my order?” Amherst spluttered, angrily rising to his feet. “Lieutenant Brim, you will immediately place us on a reverse course and, and...”

“Enough!” Ursis rumbled, stepping suddenly to the center of the cabin. “Amherst,” he said, “I made solemn promise to myself you would not again destroy mission if I could prevent — and I shall now carry out promise.”

“What?”

“Sit down,” Ursis said, seizing the First Lieutenant's arm and forcing him back in the command recliner. “Is meaning what I say, you should believe.”

A clearly startled Amherst looked first at Theada, then at Brim, eyes widening in dawning fright. “You are not going to permit this to occur, are you, Brim?” he implored. “He's calling for mutiny.”

“I support Nik completely,” Brim said quietly. “And you now have a choice which you must make immediately: either lead the mission like an officer or relinquish your command. We shall not tolerate another episode like the one on
Ruggetos.
You understand, I am sure.”

Amherst's face turned scarlet. “I shall have both of you arrested and thrown into…”

“Not here you won't,” Ursis growled. “Now consider carefully choice Lieutenant Brim gives
you — I
would not be so generous.”

“I … I...”

“Your
choice,
Amherst. Quickly,” Ursis said. “We shall overtake the cruiser in the next few cycles. We cannot be busy immobilizing you during that time.”

“Well... I…” Amherst looked imploringly at Theada. “D-Don't
you
want to go home?” he asked.

“I’d
love
to, Puvis,” Theada said. “But first, we've got to at least
try
to pick up that spy.”

“Barbousse?”

“I've sent one of the men for some rope to tie him up, Lieutenant Brim,” Barbousse said, ignoring Amherst completely.

“Your choice, Lieutenant?” Brim asked.

Amherst looked around the room for support. There was none. He took a deep breath, choked back what sounded like a sob. “I-I shall remain in command, then,” he whimpered, his eyes overflowing.

“Good decision,” Brim said. “Go to your cabin and don't return to this deck until we tell you to. Understand? We'll get you home as soon as we accomplish our mission.”

“Heavy cruiser coming up to starboard, Wilf,” Theada said as the first warning sounded from the proximity alarm. The little astroplane was already tossing heavily in the big warship's gravity wake.

Brim nodded. “Barbousse, let's ready that salute — the recording they gave us on Red Rock 9.”

“Aye, aye, Lieutenant,” the big rating said, sliding to the COMM console.

“Bastard's making sure he gets good look at us,” Ursis commented. “He's been edging our way since he turned on our course.”

“I'll gladly give him the look he wants,” Brim chuckled darkly. “We're legal outside, even if he wouldn't particularly like what he'd see in here.” Ahead, the big ship continued its drift to port. It was clearly visible through the Hyperscreens now.

“Talk about your weird starships,” Theada said. “Look at that, would you.” The old cruiser was stubby and humpbacked, with a confusion of wart-like turrets protruding from its ungainly hull as if sown at random like wild seeds. Many of the larger protrusions were connected to others by great flying bridges and walkways. Four huge turrets ringed the hull a quarter of the way from the stern; each mounted two huge disruptors. The stubby weapons reminded Brim of the ugly disruptors in Hagbut's captured field pieces — from the size alone, they promised to be a thousand times more powerful at their lowest setting. A squat, complex deckhouse stumbled forward from the turret ring where it terminated in an awkward, thrust-browed bridge that gave the whole ship a look of primitive stupidity. Formidably armed, though, if taken altogether, Brim thought abstractedly as he flew E-407 carefully past. But the insubstantial Drive openings aft made it obvious she would be clumsy and difficult to manage in HyperSpace. He guessed the same would prove true under antigravity generators as well. He watched Barbousse's salute expanding out from the KA'PPA: “ALL HAIL NERGOL TRIANNIC — CONQUEROR OF THE STARS.” It was followed immediately by the cruiser's response: “AND RIGHTFUL RULER OF THE COSMOS — ALL HAIL!” Brim chuckled to himself for a moment. Margot would
love
that! Then, suddenly they were past, running in smooth space again, and the cruiser was receding aft, slipping back to starboard from where she had come.

“Score one for the
Truculent
team,” he cheered. “We've passed!”

“Glad to see that one go,” Theada swore.

“No more than this Bear,” Ursis agreed. “You saw size of disruptors?”

“I noticed,” Brim said, grimacing. “I'll definitely avoid that ancient rustbucket, anytime I can.”

* * * *

A quarter metacycle before their first possible rendezvous, E607 was rapidly bearing down on the pickup zone with Typro now a recognizable globe hiding the stars ahead. Brim patted the little BURST section on his COMM console. “Nothing more than a symbolic display panel and some controls,” he said to Ursis. “But we've got a lot riding on it.”

“Spy is having a lot more yet,” the Bear growled sardonically. “I would not trade places.”

“Lieutenant Brim,” Barbousse interrupted unsurely, “would you look at this?”

“What's up now?” the Carescrian asked.

“Reception committee orbiting Typro, from what I can see, sir,” the big rating said. “Switch one of your displays to the long-distance target scanner for the torpedo system.”

“Got you,” Brim said, switching the spare globe on his own console to the torpedo display. He squinted, then nearly gasped. “Universe!” he exclaimed. 'They really
are
ready for us,” he said. “Looks like they've got at least four ships orbiting there — waiting for
somebody.”

At that moment, the BURST gear chimed twice. “The time window begins,” Ursis observed. “We have a prompt spy.”

Brim's display filled immediately: “TIME WINDOW ABORT,” it read. “DANGER TO PICKUP CRAFT.”

Brim nodded his head. “Guess we now know who those orbiters are,” he said as he altered course slightly. “We'll still have a look at things as we pass.” He shook his head bleakly. “BURST an 'aborted,' Barbousse,” he ordered. “Whomever that poor bastard is down there, he's got trouble up to his ears.”

As they passed Typro, the resulting confusion of challenges and authentications between E607 and the orbiting ships soon revealed there were
five
large patrol craft. “They're not making it easy,” Brim groused while the planet receded in the distance.

“True,” Ursis acknowledged with a frown. “'When rocks and crags tremble before great storm, Nemba cubs run for joy. ' “

“As they say on the Mother Planets, Nik?”

The Great Bear grinned, diamond-studded fangs reflecting the colored lights of his readouts. “You must be part Sodeskayan,” he declared. “Never have I met a human who understands
so much.”

* * * *

They spent the subsequent watch concealed close by a deserted, mined-out asteroid. Then, as the second time window opened, they once again cautiously approached little Typro with Barbousse's eyes glued to the long-distance target scanner. “Ships are still there, Lieutenant Brim,” he reported after a time. “But now I see six of 'em.”

The BURST gear chimed again. Barbousse was at it immediately. “Same thing as last time,” he reported. “ 'Danger to the pickup craft.'“

Brim shook his head. “If he doesn't let us get into a little danger pretty soon, we'll never get him home.”

“Probably,” Ursis commented from his console, “the spy knows that as well as you. He's a brave one, all right. It must be difficult to send that signal — myself, I should want out as soon as possible, and damn the danger to the pickup crew.”

“Me, too,” Brim added, his mind working furiously. “Unfortunately, it is also getting xaxtdamned close to the limit of our authentication key, after which we don't move around so freely.” He shook his head as they moved past the little planet, their authenticator answering challenges from all six patrol craft. “BURST the spy that we’ll be back in the next window,” he said to Barbousse. “And tell him that we’re coming no matter what.”

“ACKNOWLEDGE” and “THANKS” soon appeared on Brim’s BURST display. He grimaced as he cruised past two of the patrol craft – big and powerfully armed. He listened to the authentication key working in the background and thought of the trapped spy hiding helplessly on the surface below. “I’m glad I don’t have that kind of work,” he said to no one in particular.

Ursis nodded from across the cabin. “I, too, Wilf Ansor,” he said soberly. “Whomever he is, he has paid his dues in
this
war.”

* * * *

Brim got the bad news when the last window was still a quarter of a metacycle in the future.

“I count five patrol craft this time, Lieutenant Brim,” Barbousse reported from the target scanner.

Brim nodded. He’d expected the patrol would still be in place – after all, the Leaguers were in home territory.
They
could afford a waiting game. “Action stations!” he ordered. He was
definitely
going in to get the spy. He simply didn’t know how yet.

With turrets manned, the astroplane’s control cabin lapsed into silence except for the all-dominating rumble of the antigravity units in their outriggers. Brim drummed his fingers on the console and shrugged. At least they’d had no trouble with the astroplane. Like a lot of League equipment, she wasn’t particularly pretty or even sophisticated. But she was fast and reliable with a superb pair of antigravs. He nodded ironically to himself. She was c’lyents ahead of any similar starship the Admiralty had conjured up for the Imperial Fleet.

Ursis looked over sympathetically and smiled. “Could be worse, friend Wilf Ansor,” he said. At least E607’s giving no trouble.”

Brim grinned, pointing his thumb at this chest, “That’s the same thing
I've
been thinking,” he said. “And…” Abruptly, the Carescrian brought himself up short. “Sweet
thraggling
Universe, Nik,” he said. “That's
it.
What we need is a
malfunction
to get us in there.”

Theada rolled his eyes. “Oh, WON-der-ful,” he quipped. “Whose side are you on, Wilf?”

Ursis chuckled. “Perhaps he has not yet defected at all,” he said as he turned to Brim. “You are solving problem by looking at it from different angle, I assume, Wilf Ansor.”

“That's right, Nik,” Brim asserted. “So far, we've planned everything around this tub working flawlessly — and I'll bet the Leaguers have set up their trap expecting pretty much the same from whatever kind of starship comes along to pick up the spy. But I'll bet
nobody's
looking for something that
doesn't
work very well.”

“Universe — of course,” Theada exclaimed. “Any pickup craft would abort its mission if it had trouble. Sure....”

“But how about the malfunction?” Ursis asked with a grin. “How are you going to do that?”

Brim held up a finger, grinned, then turned to Barbousse. “Think you can operate that equipment for launching space mines?” he asked.