Mutiny (3 page)

"Thank you for your tact," she replied. "Of course, if I didn't know you and Commander Forrice were alone in his quarters, I wouldn't have answered you."

"Just how much of a problem
is
discipline with so little to do?" continued Cole.

"I'm just in charge of Security, and I keep busy," replied Sharon. "I'd suggest you discuss the matter with the Captain or Commander Podok."

"I suppose I'll get around to it," said Cole, breaking the connection. He turned to Forrice. "What's going on beside the drug use? Any same-species or even interspecies fraternization?"

"No."

"There will be," said Cole. "If I know that it's a meaningless job and I've been onboard for maybe three hours, don't you think the crew knows it? They probably feel safer here than in their own hometowns—and these aren't earnest and idealistic young warriors. Fujiama tells me that most of them have caused problems wherever they came from. That implies a certain disregard of discipline under far more dangerous conditions than we're facing here."

"It makes sense," agreed Forrice.

"You don't seem too concerned."

"Out here on the Rim it really doesn't make a bit of difference. The only person who has to stay sane and sober is the pilot, and he's locked into so many computer circuits I don't think he could go crazy even if he tried."

"I can't tell you how comforting I find that," said Cole.

"Were you always this cynical?"

"Only since I was old enough to talk. Let's go see the bridge."

Forrice ordered the door to open. Then his computer started gently calling his name.

"There's a message coming in," he said apologetically.

"No problem," said Cole. "I'll find my way."

"Top level, any airlift. All the corridors lead to it."

Cole stepped out into the hall, found the nearest airlift, ordered it to ascend, stepped off at the top level, and found himself in a wide corridor. There were a number of closed doors, and he began walking past them until he came to a large open area filled with impressive viewscreens. In a transparent pod attached high on the wall was the Bdxeni pilot, a bullet-shaped being with insectoid features, curled into a fetal position, multifaceted eyes wide open and unblinking, with six shining cables connecting his head to a navigational computer hidden inside the bulkhead.

A human gunnery officer sat at her station, idly watching a series of alien paintings that passed across her computer screen. The Officer on Deck, a tall young man with a shock of black hair, immediately confronted Cole.

"Name and rank, sir?" he said.

"Commander Wilson Cole. I'm the
Teddy R's
new Second Officer."

The man saluted. "Lieutenant Vladimir Sokolov, sir. I'm pleased to meet you, sir."

"Then relax and stop calling me 'sir,'" said Cole.

"That would be unwise, sir," said Sokolov.

"I suppose there's a reason?"

"The reason will be returning to the bridge any second, sir."

As Sokolov spoke, a Polonoi female entered the bridge, and Cole was forced to admire, as he had on previous occasions, the engineering that went into her.

The Polonoi were humanoid and bipedal, averaging about five feet in height. Males and females alike were burly and muscular, and were covered with a soft down, top to bottom.

But those were normal Polonoi, like the gunnery sergeant he'd met earlier. Many of the Polonoi in the military, such as Podok, were members of a genetically engineered warrior caste. They boasted orange and purple stripes, not unlike a miscolored tiger, and were more muscular than their normal brethren, able to respond faster physically to any dangerous situation.

What made the warrior caste really unique, observed Cole, was that their eating and breathing orifices, their sexual organs, and all their soft vulnerable surfaces had been engineered onto their backs. They were created to triumph or die; for a warrior Polonoi to turn his back on an enemy was to present that enemy with all his vulnerable spots. The warrior Polonoi's face possessed large eyes that could see exceptionally well at night and far into the infrared, a speaking orifice, and large ears that were cupped forward and could hear very little that happened behind them.

"Who is this?" said the Polonoi in heavily accented Terran.

"Our new Second Officer, Commanded Podok," answered Sokolov.

"His name?"

"Commander Wilson Cole," said Cole.

Podok stared at Cole expressionlessly for a long moment. "I have heard of you, Commander Cole."

"Nothing too terrible, I hope?"

"You were in the process of being relieved of your command when I heard it."

"The fortunes of war," said Cole with what he hoped was a friendly smile.

Podok made no reply.

"Well, Commander Podok," continued Cole at last, "I look forward to working with you."

"Do you?" replied Podok.

It was Cole's turn to stare silently at the Polonoi.

"Have you any business here on the bridge?" asked Podok after almost a minute had passed.

"I'm just acquainting myself with the ship before I take charge during blue shift," said Cole.

"I file a duty report at the end of white shift," said Podok. "I will remove Forrice's clearance and add yours, so that you may access it."

"I gather nothing's happened for the past hundred or more days," said Cole. "Why don't you just tell me if something changes?"

Podok stared coldly at him. "I file a duty report at the end of white shift," she repeated. "I will add your clearance so that you may access it."

"I'm incredibly grateful," said Cole sardonically.

"Good," said Podok seriously. "You should be."

She walked over to a computer console and began to work.

"Come on, sir," said Sokolov. "I'll escort you to the airlift."

Cole nodded and fell into step.

"What do you think of our Commander Podok, sir?" asked Sokolov with a grin when they were out of earshot.

"I think there are worse things than a shooting war," replied Cole.

After word came that his cabin was once again fit for habitation, Cole entered it, found his single piece of luggage sitting on the floor next to his bed, and opened it. There were five uniforms and a civilian outfit, not much to show for eight years in the military. He owned three pairs of shoes, one pair of boots, a week's worth of socks and shorts, and some toilet items. He was surprised to see that he possessed more hand weapons than uniforms.

After he'd put his gear away, he decided to take a nap and instructed the computer to awaken him ten minutes before white shift ended. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, and he felt more stiff than rested when the computer woke him an hour later.

He made his way to the bridge, decided to wait in the corridor until it was exactly 1600 hours, then walked forward, traded silent salutes with Podok, and watched the Polonoi make her way to the nearest airlift.

"May I have your attention, please?" he said in a loud voice, and the three other occupants of the bridge turned to him. "I'm Wilson Cole, the new Second Officer. I'll be in charge during blue shift from now on. I'm not much for formality; you can call me Commander, sir, Wilson, or Cole—whatever makes you happy." He paused for a moment, then continued. "Since we're going to be working together, I'd like to know your names and duties."

Before anyone could speak, Rachel Marcos walked onto the bridge, and the Molarian sitting at the gunnery station got up, saluted, and left. Rachel immediately went over and took his place. "I'm sorry, sir," she said. "But—"

"No explanations are necessary—
today"
said Cole. "If it happens again tomorrow, you'd better have a good one. I know your name. Would you please define your duties for me?"

"All of them?"

"No. Just when you're stationed on the bridge."

"I'm the weapons officer, sir," she replied.

"What does that involve?"

She smiled. "For the past four months, just about nothing, sir."

"So I gathered." He turned to the Officer on Deck. "Your name?"

"Lieutenant Christine Mboya, sir."

"Your duties?"

"They've never been clearly defined, sir. I am at the disposal of yourself, the pilot, and the weapons officer, and in the event of undefined disturbances my job is to keep order on the bridge."

"That's probably as good a definition as I've heard." Cole looked up at the transparent pod that was attached to the bulkhead. "Pilot, what's your name?"

"You couldn't pronounce it," replied the Bdxeni.

"Doubtless you're right, but I'd like to know it anyway."

"Wxakgini, sir."

"I can come close," said Cole, "but I think I'll just call you Pilot." He turned back to the two human officers. "According to our standing orders, which were given to me before I came aboard, we are in charge of protecting some seventy-three populated Republic worlds on this section of the Rim. Does anyone understand otherwise?"

"No, sir," they both answered.

"Well, I guess that's everything. It looks like a long, dull shift. Still, we might as well keep busy."

The two women looked at him suspiciously. "How, sir?"

"Don't worry," he said. "I don't believe in meaningless assignments just to create the illusion that we're all working. Lieutenant Mboya, to the best of your knowledge are we under radio silence at this time?"

"No, sir, we are not."

"Then, barring an attack on the bridge that requires your attention, I'd like you to contact headquarters on Deluros VIII and get a list of every world that has joined the Teroni Federation since our last update."

"The captain ordered that about seven weeks ago, sir."

"Do it anyway."

"Is there any particular reason why, sir?"

"Since the sides in this conflict are in constant fluctuation, I think we need a weekly information update. Last week's friend could be this week's enemy and vice versa. Have the computer remind you to update the list every week."

"Yes, sir."

"Rachel?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Program your weapons to fire a random shot into deep space every twenty to forty hours. Make it a different weapon each time, and a different duration between each shot. If there are any Teroni out there, let's let them know that we're here and we're armed, and maybe they'll think twice about whatever they're doing. If not, at least this should encourage them to come after us before they attack any of the planets, which should buy a little time for the populaces to erect whatever defenses they've got."

"Yes, sir," said Rachel. "It'll take me about two minutes. Will there be anything else?"

"If there is, I'll assume Captain Fujiama or First Officer Podok have already thought of it," said Cole. "I'm going to grab some breakfast. I'll be back in half an hour."

"We can have it brought to you here, sir," said Christine Mboya.

"Why bother?" asked Cole. "Unless you feel the ship is due to malfunction or come under attack in the next few minutes?"

"I'd almost welcome it, sir," she replied. "It gets so boring here. I would love to see some action."

"I've seen some action, Lieutenant," said Cole. "Take my word for it: boredom is better."

"Can you tell us about your experiences, sir?" she asked. "After you get back from the mess hall, that is?"

"There's not much to tell."

"Come on, sir," she urged him. "You're a hero; everyone onboard knows that."

"I'm an officer who has twice been relieved of his command. Do they know that, too?"

"I think we'd all like to hear your side of it, sir."

"Maybe someday," Cole said vaguely, and left for the mess hall.

As he sat down at an empty table, Forrice, who had been passing by the mess hall, stopped to join him.

"How was your first day at work?" he asked.

"It hasn't started yet," answered Cole.

"What's your impression of the
Teddy R??"

"It's undermanned by at least a third, its weapons are inadequate, the hydroponic gardens need tending, and the crew has fallen into slovenly habits. Other than that, it's fine."

"And your opinion of your superiors?"

"Ask me after we've been in battle."

"This
ship?" said Forrice. "There won't be enough of you left to bury, let alone question."

"You'd be surprised what a competent officer can do with even this ship."

"Find me a competent officer and we'll talk," replied Forrice. "As far as I can tell, every time one gets a command, he's demoted or tossed in the brig."

"I ignored a command and you refused one," said Cole. "We're each here for a reason."

"We're here because the Navy doesn't like to be proven wrong. You ignored orders and accomplished missions that proved to be of enormous value to the Republic. I refused to kill three spies who I knew to be deep-cover covert agents for the Republic. The Navy's happy we did what we did, but they certainly don't want to encourage anyone else to disobey orders."

"Stop talking about the Navy," said Cole between mouthfuls of artificial eggs and soya products. "You're ruining my digestion."

"I'd tell you dirty jokes, but you wouldn't understand them."

"You could just stare at me in worshipful silence, or maybe go find something to do."

"I'm doing it—helping you get acclimated."

"My gratitude is boundless."

"It should be. Everyone else wants to shake your hand or get your autograph. I just want to talk."

"I'd rather talk to them and give you an autograph."

"I know when I'm not wanted," said Forrice.

"Does that mean you're going to leave and let me finish my meal in peace and silence?" said Cole.

"Of course not," said the Molarian. "It would make you too happy."

"Okay—but no dirty Molarian jokes until I'm done with my coffee." Just then his communicator came to life and told him that the bridge was trying to contact him. If it's Podok, demanding that I spend my entire shift up there ..." He activated the mechanism and Christine Mboya's image instantly materialized in front of him. "What is it?" he asked irritably.

"I thought I should inform you that a Bortellite ship just touched down on Rapunzel."

"Rapunzel—the fourth planet of the Bastoigne system? That's about thirty light-years from here, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"You don't have to tell me about every ship that comes and goes on the Rim, Lieutenant."

"I'm just following your orders, sir. You told me to update the list of member worlds of the Teroni Federation. Bortel II formally joined them eleven days ago."

"All right," said Cole. "Let's get over to Rapunzel and take a look."

"That's out of the question, sir. We're under orders to maintain our patrol orbit between the McDevitt and the Silverblue systems."

"I'll be right there, Lieutenant," said Cole, breaking the connection. He took a final swallow of his coffee, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and got to his feet.

"Want me to come along?" asked Forrice.

Cole shook his head. "No, this is nothing special. And if leaving our patrol route turns out to
be
something special after all, why should we both get in trouble?"

He got up, carried his tray and dishes to an atomizer, tossed them in, and walked to an airlift. A moment later he was on the bridge.

"Pilot!" he said in a loud voice.

"Yes, sir?" replied Wxakgini from within his plastic enclosure.

"Break out of your patrol orbit and take us to Rapunzel."

"Right now, sir?"

"Right now."

The Bdxeni's face came as close as it could to a disapproving frown. "That contradicts my standing orders, Mr. Cole."

"Take a look around and tell me who is the highest-ranking officer on the bridge?"

"You are, sir."

"Then I suggest that you obey me."

"Perhaps we should awaken the captain, sir."

"Are you going to suggest we wake him up every time I give you an order you don't like, Pilot?"

"No, sir."

"Then don't start now."

There was a brief pause. "Yes, sir."

Cole turned to Rachel Marcos. "The odds are hundreds to one that there is a reasonable explanation for the Bortellite ship's presence on a Republic world." He paused. "Until they're millions to one, make sure your weapons are activated and ready to fire on my command. When we get within range, lock any five of them onto the ship and await the command of the ranking officer, either me or whoever's in charge if blue shift is over."

"Five, sir?"

"I know it's overkill," said Cole, "but even these weapons have been known to miss, and you can be sure the Bortellite ship won't be without its defenses."

"What I meant, sir, was that I have eighteen long-range weapons at my disposal. Why only five?"

"Because we're in a state of war, and ships of the Teroni Federation don't tend to travel alone in enemy territory. In the event of a confrontation, I don't want either you or the
Teddy R's
weapons computer to have to decide which ones to keep trained on the Bortellite ship and which ones to bring to bear on whatever else we're facing. It's better to sort these things out now, before there's a crisis."

"Yes, sir."

"Is there anything I can do, sir?" asked Christine Mboya.

"You're on the bridge until the end of blue shift?" asked Cole.

"Yes, sir."

"Start scanning this section of the Rim and see if the sensors can pick up any other ships that don't belong to Republic worlds. And Lieutenant . . . ?"

"Yes, sir."

"Thorough is more important than fast. We already know there's one ship that doesn't belong here."

"Yes, sir."

"Is there a bathroom up here? Human or alien, it makes no difference."

She gave him an odd look, but pointed toward a door at the end of a short corridor. He thanked her, approached it, entered the small human lavatory, ordered the door to close and lock, and activated his pocket computer, instructing it to contact Sharon Blacksmith.

"You heard every word, I presume?" he said when her image appeared.

"Most of them. I can go back and view the videos and holo recordings if there's any question."

"There's not. We have a ship out there that doesn't belong in this sector. I know my reputation. As soon as Fujiama or Podok hears we've altered course to approach it, they're going to think I'm some half-baked glory hound and order me to return to the ship's scheduled route. Until we learn why a Bortellite ship is on a Republic planet, that would be foolhardy in the extreme."

"I agree," said Sharon. "But what do you expect
me
to do about it?"

"Nothing too proactive," answered Cole. "People who stick their necks out for me tend to find out they're on a chopping block. All I want you to do is notify me when Fujiama gets out of bed, or if Podok approaches the bridge for any reason."

"And what are you going to do when I report such activities to you?" asked Sharon. "Take over the ship?"

"Spare me your humor. I'm a Republic officer, subject to their authority."

"Then I don't understand."

"Once you give me the word, I might take a small crew to the shuttle
before
anyone can order me not to. And if we're in a shuttle approaching an enemy ship, I don't think it's unreasonable to order my crew not to break radio silence."