“If you do, mistress,” Betts mumbled through fists clenched against his mouth, “you’re the first one who ever did!”
He turned his gray face to Daniel and added, “These touch-and-goes, they tear a ship up and they do the same to the crew. It’s not RCN practice!”
Daniel’s face hardened, and a fresh jolt of adrenaline quelled the twitchiness of his stomach. The missileer’s words were a challenge to his authority.
“It’s the practice of the RCS Princess Cecile, Mr. Betts,” Daniel said. “We’re going to a region frequented by pirates. If we’re to be effective against them, we must have the same skills as the pirates do. Since they hide in and strike from the Matrix by quick entries and exits, we will do the same.”
Betts drew himself up into a proper military posture at his console. “Sorry, sir,” he said. “I come from big ships, you know that. If this is the way we’ll get a bite at a pirate or two, then by God I’m up for it.”
“Of course you are, Betts,” Daniel said warmly. “As for myself, I’d rather face a dressing-down by an admiral, but we’re still going to practice quick insertions all the way to Sexburga, I’m afraid.”
Adele was doing something involved at her console; Daniel wondered what. She didn’t analyze the star sightings, though they were collected and processed by equipment in the signals officer’s charge.
He had a thought and switched on the PA system. “Captain to ship,” Daniel said. As he listened to the electronic echo of his voice, he thought he saw figures with too many legs walk across the corridor and through the wardroom bulkhead. “Fellow spacers, I’m proud to be part of a crew who can do its duty even while our guts are being turned inside out. We won’t ever learn to like the experience, but any pirates we meet are going to like what they get from us even less! Captain out.”
Airlocks cycled. Woetjans had put both watches on the hull in case of trouble during this first touch-and-go; riggers were as likely as anybody else to find the experience disorienting. Now the extra crewmen were reentering the hull, moving with unfamiliar clumsiness.
“The data regarding the effect insertions have on service life . . .” Adele said, speaking loudly enough to be heard clearly despite continuing to face her holographic display. “Indicate that there’s no difference between entries and exits from the Matrix taking place in a short duration and those which are spaced out over a longer period of time. The absolute number of insertions is all that matters, not the rate of occurrence.”
“There’s records on this?” Sun said in amazement. The gunner’s mate had recovered quicker than anyone else on the bridge, but there was a hint of tension in his cheek and jaw muscles too. “I’ve heard of ships doing it, but not often enough you could put it in a book.”
Adele turned to face the others in the compartment; the display framed her face as though with a multicolored aura. “The data comes almost entirely from exploration vessels,” she said with a dry smile that only those who knew her well would recognize. “As a matter of fact, the bulk of the data comes from vessels commanded by Stacey Bergen. The analysis indicates it should be valid for ships of all varieties, however.”
“Uncle Stacey says you lose the flow of the Matrix if you stay in normal space for six, eight hours the way most captains do,” Daniel said in a combination of pride and embarrassment. He didn’t want it to sound as though he thought he was the equal of his uncle as an astrogator. “His crews were all volunteers, of course. But he never had better personnel than the Princess Cecile does today.”
Daniel stood and forced himself to stretch; at the moment his body wanted to curl into a ball and hug itself. “Right now I’m going to compare his notes with the patterns I see.”
He keyed the BDC channel and said, “Lieutenant Mon, please take the conn while I go onto the hull for an hour or so. There’s no need to come forward unless you prefer to.”