"I understand," Calhoun said. "But that is not the entire story."
"Somehow, I thought that might be the case," Brim interjected.
"Clever of you," Collingswood said, looking up from her console with a smile. "Go on, Baxter."
"To make it short," Calhoun said, "the fires burned themselves out within a few megacycles-an' apparently did so wi'out affectin' the ship's ability to fly or to KA'PPA her position on a regular basis, just as if she war' still in commission. Evidently, the xaxtdamned Vergonians war' so much in a hurry that the only thing they bothered to shut down was the Drive itself."
"And the Vergonians themselves?" Ursis asked. "Why didn't they return to their ship?"
"They couldn't," Calhoun said grimly. "Only a single escape capsule remained flyable after the attack-an' unfortunately, it had sustained hidden battle damage. Every survivor suffocated when the atmospherics blew out shortly after it separated from Providential. Ane o' the convoy trawlers, little I.F.S. Marigold, provided them a decent 'burial' into deep space."
Brim nodded. The traditional spaceman's send-off; propelled forever into the Universe by a funerary ion rocket. Every warship carried a supplyin case.
" Providential's cargo, however," Collingswood said, picking up the thread of the story, "is considered to be so crucial to the war effort that Convoy Office at the Admiralty has ordered a major effort to salvage the snip. And, unfortunately, COMCONVOY has afforded us the honor of making the first try."
"Fly her all the way to Hador-Haelic, Captain?" Brim asked.
"If she can be flown, yes," Collingswood answered, "but that is the easy part. What must be done first is to see if the ship can be powered away from a huge star that captured her approximately eleven cycles after she slowed to Hypospced. 'Zebulon Mu' is the official name, and unless something is done soon, Providential will fall into it. That's where you two come into the picture," she said, looking at Brim and Ursis in turn, "as if you hadn't guessed."
The two Blue Capes glanced at each other and smiled. "Aye, Captain," they said in resigned unison.
"I sort of thought so," Collingswood chuckled. "Well, as we approach the Zebulon cluster in approximately-" she checked her timepiece "-thirty-one cycles, the two of you and anyone else you want to place at extremely high personal risk will depart Defiant in our ridiculous 'attack' launch, land on what remains of S.S. Providential, and subsequently attempt to fly her away from the gas giant before she crashes. From what little I have been able to gather from the Admiralty, you will have no more than five metacycles to bring the whole thing off."
"Does anyone at the Admiralty have technical data on the ship, Captain?" Ursis asked.
"The system controls, perhaps? Or the Helmsman's console?"
"That sort of information is what I have been gathering here on the bridge," Collingswood answered, pointing to the jump seat's display. "It's not much, but I suppose it will serve better man nothing at all. I'm having HoloCards made up right now...." Then she suddenly grimaced and shook her head. "Look, you two," she said abruptly. "You are clearly the best Helmsman and System Officer on this ship-and as such ought to be immune from such a mission. I'm certain you both know that. However, you are also the only two people who have even a ghost of a chance of returning alive-much less salvaging that ship and her critical cargo. This mission is so difficult and dangerous that my assigning any other team would make it a suicide run." She shook her head sourly. "I suppose you'll take Barbousse?" she asked.
"Miracles are a lot easier when you've got help from somebody like Utrillo Barbousse," Brim observed.
Ursis nodded solemn agreement.
Collingswood smiled. "I'm ahead of you on that, then," she said. "I've already ordered 'Coxswain Barbousse' to prepare the launch."
Brim grinned. It was no surprise. Collingswood was that sort of perceptive leader. "Thank you, Captain," he said, then glanced at his timepiece. "And if there are no further orders, we had better be on our way."
"Do you have anything to add, Number One?" Collingswood asked.
"I think that aboot covers it," Calhoun .answered. "We'll hae your systems HoloCards delivered to the launch in the next few cycles. But, Mr. Brim," he added with a slight wince,
"ye'll find the flight-control information as slim as a Gabrolean beggar."
Brim smiled. It figured; intelligence libraries usually were a lot more interested in describing systems than telling how to use them. He shrugged. "Once Nik gets it started, I'll fly it," be asserted, winking at the Bear.
"On your way, then," Collingswood said in a businesslike manner. "Our launch window for Zebulon Mu is less than fifteen cycles' duration."
"Aye, Captain..." Brim and Ursis chorused and started aft.
"Oh, and.... Wilf, Nikolai..."
"Captain?" Wilf asked, stopping just short of the companionway.
Collingswood blushed and hesitantly raised her hand. "We all know there's no such thing as luck," she said, "but just in case..."
"Thank you, Captain," Brim said, saluting indoors in spite of regulations. Ursis followed suit. Then they clambered down the companionway, pulling their battle-suit helmets over their heads and running flat-out for the boat deck.
Within cycles, they had crawled through the twin boarding tubes-Ursis with the HoloCards to the passenger compartment, Brim into the flight bridge.
"G'afternoon, Lieutenant," Barbousse said. He had both spin-gravs ticking over already.
"Good afternoon, yourself," Brim answered, scanning his console readouts while he wriggled into his seat restraints. Each rev indicator was hovering steadily at 2400 and the coolant had already reached operating temperature. Outside-with no Hyperscreens to translate the confusion of photons at greater-than-light speeds-fantastic patterns of color were all the view that be would have until the launch "glided" to just below LightSpeed and normal vision. "Looks like you've got everything ready to go," he said, trimming up the flight controls. "Xaxtdamned good job, too."
"Thank ye, sir," Barbousse said, blushing proudly.
Brim grinned at the big rating's obvious pleasure-he'd pretty much learned to fly the same way himself-without benefit of formal training. He touched an intraship circuit to the passenger cabin. "All right down there, Nik?"
"'S'all right," the Bear answered, waving a thumbs-up hello to Barbousse. "But whoever claimed this toy cabin could seat ten was definitely not counting Bear noses." He was straddling two seats.
"You ready to go?" Brim asked.
"I am ready, Wilf Ansor..." the Bear said, folding his aims and relaxing as much as be could, strapped as he was in the cramped space.
Switching the display to Defiant's bridge. Brim spooled up the spin-gravs, balancing both out at just under 9500 sp's for a smoother deceleration to Hypolight velocity. "Requesting permission to cast off into Hyperspace," he said, downloading their latest position relative to Zebulon Mu into the launch's autohelm.
"Permission granted," Calhoun answered. "You may cast off when ready."
Brim nodded, then touched a control on the right side of his console. Presently, noises of straining motors sounded through the davit attachments. Wild patterns in the windscreen whirled and changed more rapidly as the launch moved out from behind the protection of Defiant's superstructure and into the ship's photon slipstream. Brim's mind raced back to his tour of blockade duty and the day he cast off in one of old Truculent's launches to capture his first Leaguer ship. He smiled to himself. Even below LightSpeed, those operations had been ticklish. The davits were controlled from the destroyer's bridge, and often coordination between the launch and launcher was not the best. Ivan Kalisnakov's specially built cradle allowed him to control everything himself.