Mutiny (14 page)

"Damn!" muttered Cole. "I
told
him not to take the
Quentin."

Six seconds after that, there was a huge explosion on the surface of the moon.

"It worked," said Cole. "They couldn't re-aim their weapons fast enough. The second we enter the wormhole send a message to Podok telling her to get the hell out of the cluster as fast as she can. With no one left to protect, there's no reason for the Teroni ship not to go after the
Teddy R
in earnest."

"Ten seconds to the wormhole," announced Christine. "Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two."

The shuttle shuddered.

"We're inside!"

"Send that message!" said Cole. "Mr. Briggs, what did they hit?"

"I don't know, sir. We're still traveling at light speeds, and our laser banks are still operative."

"Well, damn it, they hit
something!"

"I can go outside the ship and see what damage was sustained, sir," said Slick.

"Thanks for offering, but we don't have any space suits for Tolobites," said Cole.

"I don't need one," replied Slick. "My Gorib will protect me."

"Your symbiote?"

"Yes, sir."

"You can go outside in absolute zero, with no oxygen?"

"Not for lengthy periods, but long enough to inspect the ship," answered Slick. "All I need is a lifeline so I don't float away."

"Mr. Briggs, give him everything he needs, seal him in the airlock, and then let him go outside the ship."

"I must point out again, sir: I am not a him," said Slick.

"If you can answer to a name that's not yours, you can let me refer to you by a gender you don't possess," said Cole. "We can argue about all this later. You've got a job to do now."

Briggs sealed the Tolobite in the hatch, waited until he'd attached his line, and then opened the outer hatch door.

"That's a remarkable being, that Tolobite," remarked Cole as Slick made its way around the exterior of the shuttle. "He not only can repair a ship on short notice, but I'll bet he can survive on chlorine and methane worlds for a few hours without any suit or equipment. Why the hell aren't there more of them in the service?"

"He seems comfortable with us," said Briggs. "Maybe it's the Goribs that don't want to serve."

"I suppose that's as good a guess as any," said Cole. "Let's cherish the one we've got. Lieutenant Mboya, how long before we're out of the wormhole?"

"About four minutes, sir."

"If Slick isn't back in the airlock in three minutes, slow down, and if he's not back in three and a half, bring the ship to a stop. That's a pretty interesting symbiote he's got, but I don't know if even a Gorib can handle the transition from hyperspace to normal space."

"I don't know if I
can
stop in hyperspace, sir."

"Let's hope we don't have to find out, but if he's out there in three and a half minutes, try."

It became moot when Slick reentered the hatch two minutes later. Briggs adjusted the temperature, oxygen content, and gravity and then let him in.

"Well?" asked Cole.

"There's been some damage to the tail, sir," reported Slick. "It won't affect us in space, but it will be all but impossible to navigate the
Kermit
in any atmosphere until repairs are made."

"But it won't hinder us from our rendezvous with the
Teddy R?"

"Not unless we plan to meet them in an atmosphere or stratosphere."

"Thank you, Slick."

"I just received a coded message from the
Teddy R,"
announced Christine. "They've figured out where we'll emerge and will be waiting for us. We've made it, sir!"

"Some
of us have made it," Cole replied. "Now I've got to go back to the
Teddy R
and tell them that their Captain is dead."

"How's it going?" asked Sharon Blacksmith's image.

Cole lay back on his cot, his head propped up, reading a book on his holoscreen.

"Can't complain." He smiled. "It wouldn't do any good."

"There's still no word from Fleet Command."

"They can't decide whether to decorate me or demote me," said Cole. "And not knowing who or what we killed on that moon doesn't help my case much."

"Want some company?"

"The mess hall?" he asked.

"No. I put on three pounds last month. I'll come to your quarters."

"What about your reputation?"

"On
this
ship?" she laughed. "It'll enhance it." She paused. "I'll be there in a couple of minutes."

"Take your time," replied Cole. "I'm not on duty until blue shift."

She broke the connection and entered his cabin a few minutes later.

"Sorry to intrude," she said. "But I was going stir crazy in that little office of mine."

"No problem," answered Cole, sitting up on the cot and swinging his feet to the floor. "I'm glad to have the company."

"Christine Mboya filled me in on your little adventure," she said, pulling up a chair. "That was quite a noble thing the Captain did."

"You think so?"

"Don't you?" she asked.

"If I'd been on the
Quentin
, I'd have fired most of my payload into the moon, fired what was left at the Teroni ship, and raced off in the opposite direction from the
Kermit,"
he said. "I'd have at least forced the Teroni ship to make a choice between us."

"You didn't have anything to prove," said Sharon. "Maybe the Captain felt that he did."

Cole shrugged. "Maybe. But if Forrice had been in charge of the
Quentin
the way I planned it originally, there's a fifty-fifty chance it would have made it back."

"And a fifty-fifty chance the
Kermit
wouldn't have."

"True," he admitted. "But Mount Fuji sacrificed himself. It was a noble thing to do, but I was taught that it's never a good idea to die for your side. The object of the exercise is to make your enemy die for
his
side."

She stared at him for a long moment. "You make too much sense to be on the
Teddy R,
Wilson. I expect you to be transferred any day now."

"Not a chance," replied Cole. "This ship is my punishment. I'm here for the duration. You know," he continued, "you never told me what
you
did to deserve the
Teddy R."

"I had a discreet affair with an officer aboard my last ship."

"That was all?"

"He wasn't human."

"The mind boggles. Someday when I know you better you must tell me all about it."

"Do you really want to know?"

Cole ran his gaze up and down her body, dwelling here and there on the more alluring curves. "No," he admitted. "I think I'll have more fun imagining."

She chuckled and was about to reply when the image of the Pelleanor from Security suddenly appeared. "I am sorry to disturb you, Colonel Blacksmith," it said, "but we have just had a Priority One transmission from Fleet Command."

"Patch it through to me here."

"But Commander Cole is with you."

"His security clearance is even higher than mine," said Sharon. "I take full responsibility. Now patch it through."

"Yes, sir."

"Sir?" asked Cole.

"When you don't have a gender, like the Pelleanors, distinctions become difficult," she replied. "Here it comes."

The image of Fleet Admiral Susan Garcia flickered into existence—and froze. Sharon quickly uttered a ten-digit security code and the image came to life.

"Captain Makeo Fujiama will be posthumously honored with the Medal of Courage," said the Admiral. "Commander Podok is promoted to the rank of Captain and is now in command of the
Theodore Roosevelt.
The position of First Officer will remain open, pending an Admiralty hearing on a report submitted by Captain Podok. Commander Wilson Cole will remain as Second Officer, and Commander Forrice will remain as Third Officer. Effective immediately, the
Theodore Roosevelt
will proceed to the Cassius Cluster. The Fourth Fleet is making its big push, and will have to refuel there. The
Roosevelt's
mission is to do whatever is necessary to make sure that the nuclear fuel stockpiled on Benidos II and New Argentina does not fall into enemy hands."

The image vanished.

"I wonder what reality
she's
been living in?" said Cole. "How does she think we're going to hold off even a single Teroni warship, let along a group of them?"

"Fortunately, that's not your worry, Mr. Second Officer. We've got a new Captain to ponder that."

"And you can bet that Podok will take everything literally and never dream of asking for a clarification," said Cole.

"Well, I've checked the message. There's nothing dangerous hidden in it."

"What might there be?" asked Cole.

"Oh, any number of things. At some point you could have a literally blinding light, or a musical note at the right pitch and volume to permanently deafen the listener—or even some hypnosis-inducing music. We do it when we intercept their messages and send them along to their destinations, and they do it to us."

"And Security is first on the firing line?"

"I'm wearing lenses and ear filters that protect me."

"I'm not."

"If I wasn't sure it was from the Admiral, I wouldn't have opened it here. Our system checks them pretty thoroughly when they come in. Anyway, this one is safe to pass on to Podok. I'll give it to her, and tell her that unless I'm instructed otherwise, I'll make the message available to the crew." She stood up. "It occurs to me that it would probably be better if I didn't contact her from your room."

"Okay. See you later."

She walked out into the corridor. Cole went back to his book for the next half hour, then found himself with another visitor—Gunnery Sergeant Eric Pampas.

"Ah, the Wild Bull himself," said Cole. "How are you feeling today?"

"Ashamed," answered Pampas. "And humiliated."

"Not unreasonable, given the situation."

"I came by to apologize, sir. I'm sure I'm on report, and I deserve to be. But I just want you to know that it won't happen again."

"Why did it happen the first time?" asked Cole.

"I was resentful at being tossed in here with a bunch of deadbeats. And I was bored. I'm a gunnery expert who hasn't seen an enemy ship in close to a year." Cole remained silent, and Pampas shifted his feet awkwardly. "Anyway, there were days when it was easier to get drugs than food, and everyone else was doing it." Cole continued staring at him, his face an emotionless mask. "That's a shitty excuse, isn't it?" continued Pampas.

"Yes, it is," said Cole.

"I'll tell you the truth, sir. I did it because nobody cared. The Captain didn't care what I did, and back at Fleet Command they didn't care what happened to the
Teddy R.
I mean, look at our weaponry, sir. They can't expect us to go up against a modern, well-equipped Teroni ship with the guns I service. They just didn't give a damn, so the crew stopped giving a damn, too. Then you came aboard, and you
did give
a damn. You risked your life on Rapunzel, and you tossed my whole crew in the brig when no one else cared what we did—and then I heard what you did in the Phoenix Cluster, sir." He paused awkwardly. "I just want you to know that as long as you care, I care, too. I'll take my punishment, whatever it is, but when it's done I want you to know I'll be the best damned gunnery technician you ever saw."

"I don't write reports, Sergeant." Cole paused and studied him. "You'll do."

"Sir?" said Pampas.

"The incident is forgotten," said Cole. "You ever do it again and I'll personally see to it that you spend your next ten years in confinement— but I accept your apology, and I believe you're sincere. As far as I'm concerned, you're back on duty and none of this will go on your record."

"Thank you, sir," said Pampas. "If there's ever anything I can do for you—anything at all . . ."

"Sharon, are you monitoring this?" said Cole, raising his voice.

"Of course," replied Sharon Blacksmith, sending only her voice and not her image, to put Pampas more at ease.

"Okay. Listen to what I tell Sergeant Pampas, but don't make a record of it."

"Understood," said Sharon.

"You're a big man," noted Cole. "And you're in good shape. Even your muscles have muscles. Do you know how to use them?"

"I'm not sure I understand what you're getting at, sir," said Pampas.

"The next time any member of your crew shows up with drugs or any other stimulant, I want you to take it away from him, beat the crap out of him—you won't be monitored and no record will be kept—and deliver the stuff to me. If anyone's dumb enough to ask you to return it, you are to tell him I've got it and he should ask me."

"You're saying I won't get in trouble for beating them up?" asked Pampas.

"I can't report what I can't see or hear," said Cole. "How about you, Sharon?"

"We've been having a lot of trouble with the equipment in the gunnery section," she replied. "Whole hours are going by unobserved and unrecorded."

"Are there any other questions, Sergeant?" asked Cole.

"No, sir," he said. He walked to the door, then turned and saluted. "Damn! I'm glad you're here, sir. It feels like the military again."

He stepped out into the corridor and Cole was alone once more.

"Sharon, try to arrange your schedule so you're on duty the first few minutes that Pampas shows up in the gunnery section each day. If they haven't broken out the drugs within a half hour, they're probably not going to during that shift."

"I can do better than that," she replied. "I can put gunnery on a Priority Watch, so only officers with my security clearance or higher can observe it or monitor the record. That means just you, me, Forrice, and the Captain."

"That'll do," said Cole. "Forrice will go along with it, and the drunks and druggies have to know that it's no use running to the Captain. Sometimes being an unimaginative stickler for the rules can be a positive asset: I wouldn't put it past her to set them down on some deserted planet for being intoxicated on duty."

"You know, in ways she wasn't a bad First Officer. I never saw anyone better at tending to details. I wonder what kind of Captain she'll be?"

"If you're me, the answer is: a hostile one," said Cole, forcing a smile to his face.

"Well, there doesn't seem to be anything in our new orders that might precipitate any arguments. We're out in the boonies again, guarding gas stations or the equivalent."

"You just heard our gunnery expert. Do you really want to be in the thick of the action?"

"When you put it that way, I'm more than happy to protect fuel dumps," she said. "I was momentarily misled into thinking that the
Teddy R
was responsible for our recent triumphs on Rapunzel and Nebout—but of course it wasn't the
Teddy R
at all. It was you."

"I'm just an officer who reacts to what he sees," said Cole. "I realize that on this ship it's been a rarity, but it's really not a very rare or special trait."

"If you convince me of that, I'll probably give up all thoughts of seducing you," said Sharon.

"If I don't convince you of that, you'll probably decide that I won't live long enough to be worth the effort," he replied.

"Nonsense," she said. "Going to bed with heroes is the surest way to avoid long-term commitments." She suddenly looked off to her left. "There's a message coming in from Podok. She wants to see you."

"On the bridge?"

"In her quarters." Sharon grinned. "Watch yourself in the clinches, and remember that the fun parts on a Polonoi are all in the back."

"Based on my limited exposure to them, I can't imagine a Polonoi ever having fun," replied Cole.

He broke the connection, left his cabin, and went down one level, where most of the aliens on the crew had their quarters. He walked to Podok's door, waited for it to scan and identify him, and then entered.

The new captain's cabin was sparely furnished. Nothing looked comfortable. The cot lacked a mattress, the chairs were an alien hardwood, there wasn't a cushion or pillow in the room. The walls were devoid of artwork, but Cole noticed an incomprehensible, nonrepresentational holograph on the ceiling. Whatever it depicted was
moving
back and forth within the frame, but he had no idea what he was looking at.

"You have heard the news, I presume?" said Podok after a moment.

"What news?" he asked innocently.
No sense getting Sharon into trouble by telling you I knew before you did.

"I have been made Captain of the
Theodore Roosevelt
," said Podok.

"Then congratulations are in order—once we finish mourning for Captain Fujiama, that is."

"I seek no congratulations," said the Polonoi. "I merely inform you of the fact."

"And am I now First Officer?" he asked, a meaningless question designed to further shield Sharon.