Well, Colonel?”
Skempton shook his head. He said doggedly, “It’s wrong, I know it’s wrong, for a
newly appointed ship commander and a medic to be given so much authority. But
the Rhabwar people are the only ones who know what they are doing at the moment.
Reluctantly, I agree. O’Mara?”
All their eyes, the Colonel’s and Conway’s two and Thorn-nastor’s four, were on
the Chief Psychologist, who kept his steadily on Conway. Finally he spoke.
“If you have nothing else to say, Doctor,” he said dryly, “I suggest you return
to Rhabwar as quickly as possible before the area becomes so congested that you
can’t find your own ship.”
The reaction time of the Monitor Corps to an emergency large or small was
impressively fast. In Tyrell’s forward view-screen the area resembled a small,
untidy star cluster in which Rhabwar’s beacon flashed at its center like a
short-term variable. Apart from acknowledging their arrival and giving them
permission to lock on, Fletcher did not speak to them because, he explained,
fifteen more scoutships had arrived unexpectedly and he was busy fitting them
into his retrieval program. For this reason Conway did not get an opportunity to
tell him about the other unexpected things which were about to happen until he
was back on board the ambulance ship, and by that time it was too late.
“Rkabwar,” a voice said from the wall speaker as Conway entered Control, “this
is the survey and cultural contact vessel Descartes, Colonel Okaussie
commanding. I’m told you have work for us, Major Fletcher.”
“Well, yes, sir,” the Captain said. He looked appealingly at Conway, then went
on, “If 1 might respectfully suggest, sir,, that your translation specialists—”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Colonel Okaussie broke in. “Respectfully suggest, I
mean. When I know as much about this situation as you do I’ll accept
suggestions, respectful or otherwise. But until then, Major, stop wasting time
and tell me what you want us to do.”
“Yes, sir,” Fletcher said. Speaking quickly, concisely, and, out of habit,
respectfully, he did just that. Then a few seconds after he broke contact the
radar screen showed a new trace which was even larger than Descartes. It
identified itself as the Hudlar-crewed depot ship Motann, a star-going
engineering complex normally used to bring technical assistance to vessels whose
hyperdrive generators had failed noncatastrophically leaving them stranded in
normal space between the stars. Its captain, who was not a Monitor Corps
officer, was also happy to take his instructions from Fletcher. But then ah even
larger blip appeared on the screen, indicating that a very large ship indeed had
just emerged from hyperspace. Automatically Lieutenant Haslam fed the bearing
to the telescope and tapped for maximum magnification.
The tremendous, awe-inspiring sight of an Emperor-class battlecruiser filled the
screen.
“Rhabwar, this is Vespasian
Fletcher paled visibly at the thought of giving instructions to the godlike
entity who would be in command of that ship, whose communications officer was
relaying the compliments of Fleet Commander Dermod and a request for full vision
contact as soon as convenient. Conway, who had not had time to tell the Captain
what to expect because it was already happening, got to his feet.
“I’ll be in the Casualty Deck lab,” he said. Grinning, he reached across to clap
Fletcher reassuringly on the shoulder and added, “You’re doing fine, Captain.
Just remember that, a long, long time ago, the Fleet Commander was a major,
too.”
The conversation between Fletcher and the Fleet Commander, complete with
visuals, was on the Casualty Deck’s repeater when he arrived, but the sound was
muted because Prilicla was on another frequency giving instructions to one of
the scoutship medical officers regarding a cadaver the other had found and which
Murchison wanted brought in for examination. Murchison and Naydrad were still
working on the first specimen, which had been reduced to what seemed to be its
component parts.
Murchison nodded toward the repeater screen and said, “You seem to have been
given everything you needed. Was O’Mara in a good mood?’.’
“His usual sarcastic, helpful self,” Conway said, moving to join her at the
dissection table. “Do we know anything more about this outsize boa constrictor?”