The Sirens of Space (20 page)

“
I know what you mean, Delaney,”
Andersen sighed. He leaned against the cable to rest. “I’m getting
sick of this myself. Even single shifts are hard enough to bear out
here in the mines, and we’ve been pulling two watches a day for
longer than I care to remember. If we don’t get some relief—and
soon—I swear I’ll— ”

“
Halloo— ” called a voice from the
darkness, farther down the coil. Andersen estimated its owner to be
about fifty yards away, past the bend in the coil.

“
Halloo—anybody down
there?”

“
Over here,” shouted Andersen. “And I
hope you’ve brought something cold to drink. We’re almost sweating
away to nothing.”

Footsteps echoes through the coils, as
Andersen could see the lantern beam nearing. It seemed to be a
solitary visitor, though approaching from an odd direction; as far
as he knew, there was nobody working ahead of them on this side of
the ship.

“
Taking a break?” called the
voice.

“
You’d best believe it,” Andersen
growled. “It’s the only thing we’ve done right all day.”

The approaching voice was laughing, and soon
a bare-chested young man rounded the last turn and finally came
into view. Andersen’s jaw dropped to the floor in disbelief; it was
the captain, a lantern strapped to his waist and his hands holding
opposite ends of the blue T-shirt draped from his neck.

“
I know what you mean, Chief,” Cook
panted. “Those days seem to occur here with alarming
regularity.”

“
Captain!”

“
As you were, fellows. It’s too hot
down here to snap to attention.” Cook leaned on the cable next to
Andersen, catching his breath as best he could. “Sorry I don’t have
anything to drink with me. But I have a radio phone up ahead. I’ll
call when I get back up there.”

“
Captain—what in God’s name—
”

“
In the meantime, I need one or two
men from your crew, Chief.”

“
Of course, Skipper, but— ”

“
There’s a glitched relay switch up
there,” breathed Cook. Sweat dripped from every pore on his body.
“Fused itself together like ore station slag. It’s created an
electro-magnetic anomaly. I think that’s what caused the lights to
fritz out, and it’s probably wreaking havoc on all the electrical
equipment you’re using here. I brought a replacement down with me
and tried to fix it myself, but the damn thing won’t budge an inch.
Well, at least it’s no respecter of rank. If I can borrow a couple
of your men for a while, and maybe a cutting torch as well, we may
be able to get everyone back on track.”

Slowly, the rest of Andersen’s team gathered
to see if the voice was really the captain’s. Ignoring Andersen’s
intimidating glower, and in an unsteady voice, Metz asked when they
could expect improvement in the food in the galley; Cook replied:
“About the time the whales return to Ishtar.” Emboldened, Fishman
wondered aloud when they could expect a few more female crewmen to
grace the ship, so the enlisted crew could enjoy the same
“advantages of home” as the blueshirts; “Probably when we’re all
done sweating,” laughed the captain. As the others traded gripes
and quips with their Skipper, the exhaustion that had dogged them
for the past few days all but vanished. For the moment, and even
deep within the mines, the darkness lifted from their spirits.
Their double shifts ceased to be an endless purgatory, and seemed
instead what they had always been: a minor necessity dictated by
their limited numbers and the size of the task that faced them. The
captain’s quick wit and saucy irreverence gave them the best
refreshment they’d had in weeks—a hearty laugh with someone who
understood and shared their troubles.

Ten minutes later, when Cook left with Doyle
and Derderian to repair the fused power relay, none of the men even
winced when Andersen called for them to resume their duties. They
worked with a will they hadn’t shown in days, and as the reams of
sweat poured from their brows they felt not weariness or fatigue,
but exhilaration.

THE HOURS TURNED INTO DAYS, the days into
weeks.

Slowly things began to take shape, as each
small improvement inched the great ship closer to readiness. The
progress, too slow for anyone but the captain to notice, gave no
lift to the crew’s foundering morale. Yet even the diehard whiners
had to admit that the captain pushed himself harder than any of his
subordinates, and he was pulling the whole crew along by the sheer
force of his example. Though Cook no longer spent time lecturing on
philosophy or Old Earth history to his first officer, or helping
his chief engineer improve the networking of the ship’s computers,
he made rounds each day, spending at least an hour walking the
decks, talking to crewman on all decks, laughing along with all
ranks and stations and letting them air any complaints or
grievances they might have.

Even so, some on the
d’Artagnan
spent the better part of
the day wondering when it all would end; foremost among them was
Roscoe Cook himself.

cc: 142-9835.7

FILE: Log

ACCESS: Command.

SECURITY: Standard

OPERATIONAL STATUS: Repairs in Progress

LOCATION: SB 114, Ishtar Command/Dry Dock

Twelve of the fifteen main engine batteries
are now operational, and preliminary tests are proceeding on
schedule. However, unexpected problems in the engine coils will
probably force postponement of full tests for at least a week,
making it unlikely that we will meet our target goal of
starworthiness by the end of the current cosmic year, or meet the
necessary inspection requirements for participation in upcoming
maneuvers. Engine coil difficulties seem to stem from design
defects in several pieces of new equipment. I have forwarded a full
report to Fleet Headquarters, so that the contractors can correct
flaws before the prototype begins full production.

Full crew complement of 650 is now on board,
although I estimate that we could use at least another 150 hands to
help ready the ship, and expect to keep the crew on double shifts
for the foreseeable future. Chief Engineer Van Horn anticipates
that....

The bell sounded on the communications
console next to Cook’s desk. The signal—long, two short, long
again—told him he had an incoming call from the base. He pressed
the intercom button, impatient at the interruption.

“
Yes?”

“
Lt. Nkwete calling from Fleet
Dispatch.”

Wearily, Cook leaned back in his
chair, stricken with guilt. Vera Nkwete was a close friend from his
Academy days, but they’d lost touch over the years. He’d been
reluctant to call her when the
Constantine
came into port, but knew she’d feel
hurt if he didn’t. Besides, with his promotion he felt the need to
celebrate, even if it meant bringing more complications to his
life. Now, though, his office was still in chaos, and most days he
still couldn’t quite see the top of his desk through the clutter.
His shelves still had stacks of info-disks waiting to be filed, and
he barely had time to keep up with the minimum amount of paperwork
that regulations demanded. However pleasant they might be, he
sighed, he had no time for distractions.

“
Captain?”

“
I’ll take it right here, Yeoman.
Thank you.”

Cook sighed as he waited for Vera to appear
on the screen, and purged himself of all feelings of irritation. He
could imagine the course their conversation would take, and knew
that he deserved every syllable of abuse he had coming.

“
Hello, Vera,” Cook forced a smile as
her image appeared on the screen. With each passing second, as she
delayed responding and gazed silently into his eyes, Cook became
more and more uncomfortable. Finally, he could stand it no
longer.

“
Vera— ” he began, only to be cut
short.

“
Do you realize how long it’s been,
Roscoe?”

Cook nodded sheepishly. “It’s been nearly a
week, I know....”

“
It’s been fifteen days since you last
called,” she interrupted haughtily. “Fifteen days of waiting for
you to trouble yourself to pick up the vidphone, or have your
yeoman do it for you if you couldn’t be bothered to place the call
yourself. And do you know how long it was before then?”

“
Well— ”

“
It was another ten days, Roscoe. You
know, it is very difficult for me like this. But the least you
could do— ”

“
Vera,” Cook said, as she began to
cry. “I know I’ve been positively awful, ever since— ”

“
Ever since you and your damn ship
came into port,” she said sharply. “I don’t understand. For the
life of me, I don’t understand how any human being can devote so
much time caring for an unfeeling, unhuman—machine.”

“
Vera— ”

“
No, I’m sorry for troubling you,” she
snapped.“I’ll talk to you later. Goodbye.”

Cook stared at the blank screen for several
minutes before returning to his console to finish his log entry for
the day. Before long, he was on his way to the Molecular
Transmitter, to help the Chief Engineer restore some order. Over
the past few days, repair crews had all but reduced the regulator
to its components, looking for the tiny breach in the wire
insulation that was causing the system to short circuit whenever
they tried to test it. After that, the corridor hatches needed
inspecting and their sick bay needed another overhaul to get the
medical computers operating again. And he wanted to spend some time
wandering around the ship, seeing and being seen by the crew.

As he left, a sliver of light from the
hallway door fell across the now-darkened room onto his desk, and
beyond it to the wall behind, lingering for a moment on the ancient
faces adorning his office until the door closed, and all was dark
once more.

"Enemy fire a-port”

“
Shields are holding, Mr.
Ashton.”

“
Helm, hard a-starboard; weapons,
commence firing.”

Jeremy’s heart beat heavily as he awaited
the outcome. This was their toughest challenge yet—twin frigates,
with the computer calibrated to Difficulty Level Two. His mind
raced furiously, planning for each contingency, but things seemed
to be going well. This was the best they’d ever done on a Level Two
simulation. He looked at the side-screen at the captain’s chair and
felt a surge of triumph: it showed a direct hit on Enemy Number
One, knocking it out of action.

“
Second frigate approaching astern,”
said the young ensign at the systems station.

“
Navigation, “ Jeremy shouted, “plot
an arc south of port, heading 750; helm, prepare to swing us
around…and, execute.”

As the second frigate came into view
on the forward screen, Jeremy started to relax for the first time
in this simulation. Facing a single enemy was so much simpler; he
could now switch full power to the forward guns and not risk
another pass by the enemy ship exposing the
d’Artagnan
to another enemy
broadside.

“
Range, two klicks and closing
fast.”

“
Helm, slow to C-2; weapons, all power
to forward guns. Fire when ready.”

From the edge of the captain’s chair, Jeremy
watched the ship’s powerful guns blast away at the overmatched
enemy frigate, his knuckles turning white as his hands dug into the
arm rests. Seconds later, it was all over.

“
Sensors show enemy weapons gone, and
her shields buckling.”

“
Thank you, Ensign Dexter,” Jeremy
smiled. “Lt. Underwood, radio the frigates that we are standing by
to accept survivors, and sound the all clear; Lt. Palmer, keep
shields up and guns amain. Helm, come to 010 and swing us past the
enemy, sublight at quarter power.

“
Well, Ensign?”

Dexter punched a blue button to the left of
his main screen, then flashed the broadest grin Jeremy had ever
seen.

“
Computer gives us an eighty-five, Mr.
Ashton—an eighty-five!”

Jeremy smiled broadly, and accepted
congratulations from the rest of the bridge crew. All were elated,
except for the helmsman, who remained oddly subdued. It was their
best score, against the toughest simulation they’d faced yet, and
Jeremy felt it deserved a proper reward.

“
All right people!” he bellowed. “You
think we’re ready for the Captain?” The cheer that came in response
gave him the answer he wanted.

“
Mr. Underwood, page the Skipper. Tell
him we await his presence on the bridge. In the meantime, the rest
of you have ten minutes to relax. Get some food if you want, but be
back here at 675 sharp. It’s taken us this long to get the Skipper
here and we don’t want to keep him waiting.”

The bridge cleared in a minor stampede,
leaving Janet and Jeremy alone. Jeremy stepped from the captain’s
chair and stepped forward to the helm station, where Janet was busy
replaying the last simulation. She was a quiet one, Jeremy smiled,
and her reluctance to share her insights on the captain wasn’t the
only thing about her that was driving him crazy.

“
It went well, I thought.”

Janet looked up and nodded, though less
enthusiastically than Jeremy had hoped. “Yes, I guess it did.”

“
You find it difficult, working with
someone else in the hot seat?”