As if it had been a routine landing....
Before the stormy afternoon was over Collingswood had every civilian in the Complex running for cover. Literally hundreds of KA'PPA messages flashed instantaneously across the thousand-odd light years that separated EleandorBestienne from the Imperial Admiralty on Avalon, and presently Defiant was populated by the highest managers in the region.
Lateras soon as they could arrive-the top administrators on the planet joined their underlings cowering in the wardroom. And when Coffingswood was finished, the civilians received personal order from First Star Lord Sir Beorn Wyrood himself-via direct link with the Admiralty. Moreover, the orders were personally seconded by none other than Crown Prince Onrad, heir apparent to the Imperial throne at Avalon.
Both messages were short, to the point, and unmistakable. Defiant was to be put to rights immediately, at the highest priority possible. And this time, she was to be repaired permanently, or the Planetary General Manager and each member of his senior staff would be held individually-and personally responsible. Progress reports were to be forwarded to the Admiralty every fifteen metacycles until the job was finished, and thoroughly tested.
With their positions-perhaps their lives, for all they knew-literally at stake, the shipyard managers caused absolute engineering miracles to be performed. Working around the clock for five solid days, technicians and engineers from all over the planet actually removed Defiant's bridge and superstructure, then completely rebuilt her Verticals according to the new specifications created as a result of her initial accident. She was buttoned up on the morning and afternoon of the sixth day, then flown by an exclusively civilian crew, including the Planetary Manager and his senior staff as passengers, through every thunderstorm that could be located in the entire northern hemisphere during the next week. After shrugging off at least one hundred fifty major lightning strikes in flight-and two more days testing against an actual battery of disruptors- Defiant was once more declared safe.
Following three additional days of deep-space trails with Blue Capes at the controls, even Ursis seemed content with the ship and her systems, and Collingswood formally accepted the starship from the builders a second time. This time, the little wardroom ceremony was attended by none other than Reynard J. Eliott, the Planetary General Manager himself, who had lately been very much in evidence around Defiant's gravity pool.
From his tired eyes, it was clear that the man had not seen his palatial residence in the planet's hemisphere since shortly after Collingswood invoked her powerful influence at the Admiralty. He was a small, buck-toothed civilian with a sallow complexion and the brisk air of one who is comfortable being important. His hair was carefully combed to cover a balding head, and he acted as if he were teetering between being annoyed on one hand and uneasy on the other.
Brim had never seen the man wear anything but expensive looking business suits, and wondered if perhaps he had been born in one. Of course, he also carried the archaic, narrow-brimmed stovepipe hat of a shipyard manager. He might been born with that, too, for all Brim knew. But then, it was doubtful that people at his exalted level often got that close to the shipyards they managed.... It was somehow satisfying to the Carescrian that the man's expensive shoes were this evening covered with the same construction dust as his own.
"Well, Commander," Eliott said loftily to Collingswood, "does the ship meet with everyone's approval this time?" Without waiting for an answer, he opened the Red Book and placed it on the table before her. "Box number 921, please-above your previous signature."
Collingswood made no move to acknowledge the book's presence. Instead, she glanced meaningfully at Brim, then at Ursis. "Well?" she said, placing her elbows on the table and steepling her fingers, "last chance, gentlemen."
Brim pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. At his personal insistence, he'd remained on board during the brutal disruptor testing-and had personally flown nearly all the deep-space trials. "I have no more problems, Captain," he said in a confident voice. "I'll fly her anywhere now."
Ursis narrowed his tired eyes. He, too, had been aboard during the disrupter testing. "At last I am satisfied with Defiant's systems, Captain Collingswood," he declared with a wry smile. "It is high we turn our energies once more toward combating the forces of Nergol Triannic."
At this juncture, Collingswood turned to the Book and applied her signature. Then she sat back and looked up at the General Manager. "Thank you for everything you've done," she said magnanimously. "You've been a great help...."
For a moment, anger seemed to overtake the man's fear. Then he suddenly relaxed and nodded his head-clearly awed by this mere Commander whose ire could invoke the First Lord of the Admiralty and the Crown Prince.
"You are most welcome, Captain," he said evenly. He retrieved the Book and slipped it under his arm as if he were suddenly afraid she might change her mind. "I don't think the ship will disappoint you again."
"Shall we seal that with a goblet of meem?" Collingswood asked, nodding to Grimsby in the panty nearby.
At first, Eliott shook his head, then brought himself up short and smiled the first genuine smile Brim had seen on his face. "Yes, I think I shall, Captain," he said. "I should be proud to drink to this gallant ship-and her extraordinary crew." After the usual toasts were offered, he raised his glass to Collingswood alone. "Not too late to wish you luck, too, Captain," he said.
Collingswood raised her glass to his silently. Brim knew her mind was already elsewhere. Defiant was under orders to depart in the morning for the Escort Training School on Menander-Garand, and in her own way she had already reduced this overblown civilian to a cipher. She was off to more important considerations than conquering nettlesome Planetary Managers.
The single-day flight to the training base passed without incident. Waldo and Aram flew Defiant to a flawless landfall-in flawless weather on a flawless evening, just as the huge binary-star system Menander was setting on the western horizon. After that, they all worked without letup for five solid weeks. The course was designed to harden new crews and accustom them to the conditions in which they would wage their part of the great intragalactic war. The entire ship's company, from Collingswood to the newest able starman, was under constant stress nearly every metscycle. If they were not out performing maneuvers, they were practicing disrupter drills, or running through Action Stations... or battling mock radiation fires, or landing the big ship with only part of her propulsion systems operational. And when they were not out in space, everyone attended cross-training classes about some part of the vessel that-before then-he or she had completely taken for granted.
Thus, Brim learned a great deal about propulsion systems-firsthand. And Ursis flew a starship for the first time in his life-astonishingly well. One afternoon, Wellington and her weapons experts even found themselves in the Drive chamber, reorienting the sixteen primary tesla coils-a heavy job nobody ever wanted to do-but one without which Defiant might lose her ability to travel at Hyperspeeds. During their ordeal, every member of the ship's crew-including even-tempered Collingwood-was driven to the point of near-despair.
They were tired beyond tiredness and deathly sick of constant stress that sacked what little of their strength remained at the end of each watch.
For the most part, however, each of them realized that this was the only chance they would ever get to become an integrated fighting team capable of surviving be savagery out in the convoy lanes-wherever they might be. And if the price of preparation was overwork to the point of pain, the other price-the one they might surely pay if they weren't prepared-was infinitely more expensive.