For Love and Glory

XXVII

The chamber was completely filled and closed off; should a sudden change of vector occur, slosh could be fatal. The salt water was at body temperature; apart from their sanitary units, skinsuits served only modesty. Afloat, loosely tethered, breathing through air tube and mask, you might soon have drowsed, were your faring peaceful. Not that comfort was complete. The liquid took weight off bones and muscles, it helped keep body fluids where they belonged. Yet heaviness dragged at interior organs, while nothing but medication held pain and weariness at bay. Eventually you must pay what your vigor was costing you, with interest.

A low, nearly subliminal pulse throbbed through Lissa. Dagmar could not hurl herself along at full power without a little of that immense energy escaping to sing in her structure. Hands and the miniature control panel on which they rested were enlarged in vision, seemed closer than they were. Yet shipmates on every side had gone dim, half unreal, in a greenish twilight.

Talk went by conduction from a diaphragm in the mask. After the scramble and profanity of getting positioned were done and boost had commenced, silence replaced a privacy that no longer existed.

Lissa broke it first. “Captain,” she said stiffly.

Valen never took his eyes off the single viewscreen, before which he was. “Yes?”

“Captain, I petition you to reconsider. I believe the others will join me in this.”

“I do, sir!” She had not expected shy Noel to speak up. “The science we’re losing, that we might do every minute if we weren’t idled here.”

“The science we will lose, sir, if we don’t survive,” Tessa chimed in. “That all the human race will.”

“The chances of our survival are poor, you know,” Lissa said.

“A crazy gamble,” Elif felt emboldened to add, “and for what? For some lizards that did their best to keep us away.”

“Mind your language,” Valen reprimanded in an automatic fashion. “Esker, have you any comment?”

“Well, Captain, uh, well,” the physicist replied, “of course, when you commanded, we obeyed. We’re no mutineers. But it’s not too late for you to reconsider and turn back, sir. Your impulse was generous—fearless, yes—but thinking it over, wouldn’t you agree we have a higher duty?”

He’s actually desperate enough to behave reasonably, Lissa thought in amazement.

“Orichalc?… No, I forgot, your trans wouldn’t work here.” Lissa thought fleetingly how lonesome that must feel. Valen turned his head. “But you have picked up a little Anglay, I believe. Nod if you vote for us going on, wave your tail if you vote for us going back.”

After seconds had mounted, it was the tail that moved.

Valen barked a laugh. “Unanimous, eh? Except for me.” He stared again at the viewscreen. From her post, Lissa saw it full of night; but he must be watching the flames. “However, I am the captain.”

She summoned her will. “Sir,” she said, “I have the authority to set our destination. It is in safe space.”

“I have the authority to overrule you if I see a pre-emptive necessity.”

“Crew may lawfully protest unreasonable orders.”

“If the protest is denied, they must obey.”

“This will mean a board of inquiry after the voyage.”

“Yes. After the voyage.”

“If the captain shows… dangerous incompetence, the crew may relieve him of his duties. The board of inquiry will decide whether or not they were justified.”

“How do you propose to do it? This ship is programmed to me.” Valen raised his voice, though it remained as cold as before. “Dagmar, would you remove me from command of you?”

“No,” came the level answer. “What you attempt is exceedingly difficult and may fail, but success is possible, and it is not for me to make value judgments.”

“Values,” Valen murmured. “Everybody always told me what value sentient life has. The old, old saying, ‘Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.’ Don’t you agree any longer? Have your beliefs suddenly changed? We are seven. There must be ten or twenty times that many aboard those ships. Civilized spacefarers go to the aid of the distressed. We shall.”

Sharply: “My judgment is that we can do it, provided we keep our heads and work together. Otherwise we doubtless are doomed. I assume you are all able, self-controlled people when you choose to be. Very well, we’ll now develop a basic plan of action. As we approach, I’ll contact Moonhorn again, learn in detail what the situation is as of that time, and assign tasks.”

“No, please, sir,” Esker stammered.

Lissa unclenched her jaws. “You heard the captain,” she said. “Let’s get cracking.”