THE HELMSMAN: Director's Cut Edition (7 page)

“Harbor Master to DD T.83,” he announced. “Hold your position at marker buoy 981G for cross traffic.” Collingswood chuckled from her display and smiled understandingly.

“Holding,” Brim grumped. “Full speed reverse, both,” he said to Ursis' image.

“Full speed reverse, both,” the Bear echoed.
Truculent
glided to a hovering stop just short of the tossing buoy.

“All stop.”

“All stop.”

“Steering engine's amidships,” the Chairman announced.

In the driving rain outside the ship, Brim could see neither sky nor horizon; but twenty-five irals below, the sea's great swells were thick and black looking, peppered with ice rubble. Abruptly, a chance break in the downpour revealed the specter of another mass looming from the grayness, this one infinitely larger than
Audacious.
It quickly defined itself as the profile of a monster starship moving rapidly in
Truculent's
direction near the surface of the water. Scant moments later, she fairly burst from the storm, majestic and powerful, sea creaming away ahead of the roiling, foaming footprint she punched deep in the flattened surface, a haze of spray lifting hundreds of irals in her wake to rival the clouds themselves. Brim gasped in spite of himself. Perhaps no one in the galaxy could mistake
that
grand panorama of stacked bridges, great casemated turrets, and wide-shouldered, tapering hull:
Iaith Galad,
one of the three greatest battlecruisers ever constructed, and sister ship to
Nimue,
in which the famous Star Admiral Merlin Emrys was lost (nearly two years ago now, if Brim's memory served him). Waves of chill marched his back in icy regiments. To serve as Helmsman on something like
her!
He shook his head in resignation. Carescrians didn't get assignments like that. But
what
a dream.

“We shall require a salute, Lieutenant Amherst,” Collingswood's voice prompted.

“Aye, Captain,” Amherst replied. Immediately, glowing KA'PPA rings shimmered out from
Truculent's
beacon in the age-old Imperial salute, “MAY STARS LIGHT ALL THY PATHS.”

Brim had to crane his head back to see
Iaith Galad's
beacon when she made her traditional reply: “AND THY PATHS, STAR TRAVELERS.” He glimpsed tiny figures peering down from the vast panoply of Hyperscreens atop her towering bridge as she passed. One of them waved. Then, quickly as she appeared, she was gone, swallowed again in the gloom.
Truculent
bounced heavily in her gravity wake while a deluge of spray from the warship's backwash cascaded in sheets over the Hyperscreens and decks below. Then the destroyer steadied and the sea rolled again beneath the hull as if the great starship had never passed.

“DD T. 83: you now are cleared for immediate takeoff,” the Harbor Master announced. “Wind is zero four at one oh three. Heavy battlecruiser just landed reports considerable turbulence on final: your path.”

“Thank you very much,” Brim acknowledged, then looked Ursis' image in the eye and winked. “Finally,” he whispered, then louder, “Full speed ahead.”

The Bear nodded. “Good luck,” he mouthed silently. “Full speed ahead.” Immediately,
Truculent's
two oversized gravity generators began to thunder deep in the starship's hull, shaking the whole spaceframe.

While thrust built, Brim held the bucking, vibrating starship in place with gravity brakes. He got a definite feeling the devices were only
just
adequate for the job, and was distinctly glad to hear Gallsworthy's voice when it came.

“Lights are on; you've got takeoff thrust!”

Brim released the brakes. “Full military ahead, both, Nik!” he bellowed over the roar of the generators.

“Full military ahead, both,” Ursis answered. The noise intensified and
Truculent
began to creep forward.

Brim managed a last glance aft through the rain. The huge rolling waves were now flattened in a wide, flowing trough that extended out from their stem to a great cloud building skyward at the very limits of his vision. Then the ship was suddenly racing over the water, and no time remained for thoughts, only reflexes and habits. Stabilizers and lift modifiers, helm and thrust controllers. And even his long afternoon simulating on the bridge was poor preparation for the destroyer's astonishing acceleration. “Great — thraggling — Universe!” he gasped.

“Moves right out, doesn't she?” Ursis commented through a grinning mouthful of teeth.

Awed, Brim watched the surface rush by for only clicks before Gallsworthy's voice beside him announced, “ALPHA velocity.” Then he carefully rotated the destroyer's nose upward a specified increment for lift-off.
Truculent
was smooth and responsive on the controls, almost skittish. She was his first real thoroughbred, a hundred light-years beyond even the best of the training ships he had flown.

“BETA velocity,” Gallsworthy announced a few moments later, then, “Positive climb.” Within clicks,
Truculent
was thundering through Haefdon's heavy cloud cover, bumping heavily in the everlasting turbulence.

“Haul 'em both back to full speed ahead, Nik,” Brim ordered.

“Full speed ahead, both,” the Bear verified. Generator noise in the bridge subsided considerably.

“DD T.83: contact departure one two zero point six,” the Harbor Master called. “Good hunting, Truculents!” The transmission faded quickly as they broke out in smooth air above the overcast: Dirty gray billows that extended forever and forever in Haefdon‘s weak sunlight.

“Departure Control to DD T.83,” said a woman's face in the display. “You are cleared Hypo-light to the Lox'Sands-98 buoy, zone orange — with immediate transition to Hyper-Drive on arrival. Good-bye from Gimmas/Haefdon Fleet Base. And good luck,
Truculent.

“T.83 to Departure Control,” Brim seconded, “proceeding Lox'Sands-98 buoy, zone orange with immediate HyperLight transition on arrival. Thanks, Gimmas/Haefdon. See you next time.” Before he finished speaking,
Truculent
swept through the planet's atmosphere and was streaking along in darkness on the edge of outer space. He busied himself with additional checkout routines and monitored the ship's systems for the next few cycles, keeping a wary eye on his LightSpeed indicator as the ship accelerated. “Let's cut in the Drive, Nik,” he said presently. “Lieutenant Gallsworthy, will you call out the readings?”

Ursis winked and kissed his fingertips. “Drive shutters open. Activating Drive crystals,” he echoed. “Firing number one.” A single shaft of green light extended far out into the blackness aft. Instantly, Hyperscreens dimmed to protect the bridge occupants while a deep, businesslike grumble joined the roar of the gravity generators.

“Point seven five LightSpeed. Point eight,” Gallsworthy called out.

“Readouts normal,” the Chairman reported.

Ursis nodded, cross-checking his own instruments. Apparently satisfied, he went on to the next: “Firing two. Firing three. “

“Point eight five LightSpeed,” Gallsworthy continued. “Point nine.”

“Firing four.”

Truculent's
light-limited gravity generators were now just about played out. In the forward Hyperscreens, the first glowing sheets of Gandom's V
_e
effect were already crackling along the starship's deck when Brim turned his attention outside.

“Point nine seven LightSpeed.”

Presently, the visible Universe became laced by a fine network of pulsing brilliance spreading jaggedly from the last visible stars as if the whole firmament were about to shatter into the very pebbles of creation. Now all he had to do was pass the Lox'Sands-98 buoy. The ship would have to tell him when; until the Drive could be deployed,
Truculent's
bridge crew was virtually blind to the outside Universe.

Suddenly: “Lox'Sands-98 buoy in the wake, Lieutenant Brim,” the Chairman confirmed. Brim smiled with anticipation. “That's it, Nik,” he said. “Half ahead, all crystals.”

“Half ahead, all crystals,” Ursis echoed. Quiet thunder from
Truculent's
four Drive crystals joined the roar of her straining gravity generators, the starscape wobbled and shimmered, then blended to an angry red kaleidoscope ahead until space itself came to an end in a wilderness of shifting, multicolored sparks. When this phenomenon (the Daya-Peraf transition) at last subsided, the LightSpeed indicator had moved through 1.0 and began to climb rapidly again as
Truculent's
Drive crystals took over the job of hurtling her through HyperSpace.

“Finished with gravity generators,” Brim announced.

“Gravity generators spooling down,” Ursis confirmed.

Immediately, the Hyperscreen panels darkened while their crystalline lattices were synchronized with the Drive, then they cleared once more, blazing with the full majesty of the Universe. On this side of the LightSpeed barrier, however, flowing green Drive plumes trailed the ship for at least two c'lenyts surrounded by a whirling green wake as
Truculent's
HyperSpace shock wave bled off mass and negative time (“T
_neg
” of historic Travis equations) in accordance with the complex system of Travis Physics. In a few moments, the noise of the generators faded completely. Brim glanced at Collingswood. “Twenty-eight LightSpeed, Commander?” he asked.

“Twenty-eight LightSpeed will suffice,” Collingswood replied with a slight grin.

“Mister Chairman, set and hold the ship on twenty-eight LightSpeed,” Brim ordered.

“Twenty Eight LightSpeed cruise set,” the Chairman confirmed.

Without warning, Gallsworthy caught Brim’s eye.

“Yes, sir?” the surprised Carescrian asked, braced for still another rebuff.

A shadow of humor passed the senior Helmsman's reddened eyes, before they clouded again. “You may have proved a point or two this morning, Brim,” he allowed emotionlessly. “I shall take over now and let
you
watch the scenery.”

Jolted, Brim suddenly understood he had just received rare praise from this taciturn officer and groped for something appropriate to say. Then he brought himself up short with the sure realization that words were tools Gallsworthy simply didn't understand. “Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said matter-of-factly. “I should be glad for a moment to relax.”

When control was subsequently restored to the left-hand console, Brim settled back in his recliner and closed his eyes for a moment, smiling inwardly. It was a morning of
two
victories so far as he was concerned, though few of the Imperials on
Truculent's
bridge could have logically explained why. As thralls to Avalon's Galactic Empire, Carescrians were rarely praised for anything they accomplished. Most became highly adept at ferreting out life's little triumphs wherever and whenever they could be found. And even Gallsworthy's acceptance of his flying skills could in no way match Brim's satisfaction in the sour look still manifested on Amherst's long, homely face.

Truculent
was well on her way to war — so was Wilf Brim.

* * * *

Blockades in intergalactic space were mounted for pretty much the same reasons they were mounted anywhere else: starve a critical component of a civilization into collapse and other, dependent components suffer with it. Starve sufficient critical components, and the whole civilization suffers. To this end, I.F.S.
Truculent
was assigned patrol duty off the periphery of the League's great Altnag'gin hullmetal fabricating complex orbiting the star Trax. Without imported metallic zar'clinium, a rare trace element, its mills could forge no hull metal plate, and without hullmetal plate, dependent shipyards could turn out no more warships.

The actual implementation was as simple as it was effective: transport starships cruising HyperSpace at roughly ten to thirty light years each metacycle were simply not “maneuverable” in any normal sense of the word. It was first necessary to exit HyperSpace before approaching anywhere near a space anchorage, and this meant Hypolight runs of at least two or three metacycles at the end of each journey. During this interval, “runners” (enemy ships headed in either direction) were quite visible in the normal spectrum — and vulnerable to attack from predators like the Empire's specially equipped T-class destroyers.
Truculent
was one of six patrol craft assigned to sealing Altnag'gin; she relieved a smaller N-class destroyer, which had been constantly on station for three Standard Months.

It came as no particular surprise to Brim when the duty quickly broke down to mostly hard work and boredom; a lot of work in deep space was like that. However, the routine was often enough punctuated by periods of deadly action, and
Truculent
found herself immersed in one of these no more than a few Standard Days after the ship she replaced gleefully turned her bow homeward and surged off into deep space at full thrust.

A chance break in one of the region's interminable gravity storms some thousand or so c'lenyts off the Nebulous Triad (a key departure point from one of the Cloud League's most important manufacturing centers) had just revealed two fast transports racing in from deep space.

Besides metallic zar'clinium, blockade runners in this part of the League nearly always carried other basic commodities to fuel the maw of Nergol Triannic's war machine: food ripped from starving farmers of Korvost, freshly mined crystal seedlings, and
always
quantities of life-sustaining TimeWeed from the Spevil virus beds — frequent drafts of the latter were necessary for addicted members of the dreaded Controller class and
their
rulers, expatriates from Triannic's royal court in far-off Tarrott city.

Only cycles out of HyperSpace, the enemy ships had run out of luck.

Gallsworthy and Pym worked briskly at
Truculent's
Helmsmen's consoles, Collingswood on her feet behind them, one hand on each recliner, staring through the Hyperscreens. An off-duty Brim sat as observer in a jump seat, concentrating on the proceedings as if his life depended on learning each movement at either console — someday, he knew it would.