My heart pounded. “You know better than to tell tales on a superior officer, Mr. Vishinsky. You’re rebuked.”
“Yes, sir.” He appeared undisturbed. “What should I do when he questions me, sir?”
“If he orders you to answer, do so. Obey all orders else place yourself on report.”
“Aye aye, sir. May I go?”
“Yes.” I watched him leave. “Thank you,” I added, as the hatch closed behind him. I willed my heart to stop slamming against my ribs. Crossburn was a lunatic. He was only a step from endangering the ship.
As soon as my watch was done I went to my cabin. I stared into my mirror. “You’re the Captain,” I told my image. It gave no response. “You have the authority. Remember Vax’s story about his uncle, the lawyer? He had to remind himself that his clients weren’t in trouble because he’d failed them, but because they had fouled up in the first place.”
I scowled at myself in the mirror. “So why do you feel guilty?”
A rhetorical question; I already knew the answer. If I were competent, I’d have found a way to avoid this mess.
“But don’t they have it coming, nonetheless?”
I started at myself for a long while, then sighed. I still felt guilty.
At lunch I chose to sit next to Mr. Crossburn instead of at the small table where I would be undisturbed.
He started almost immediately. “What kind of man was Captain Haag, sir?”
“Well, I was just a middy. To me he seemed remote and stern. They say he was an excellent navigator and pilot.” 1 took a bite out of my sandwich, decided to give Mr. Crossburn more rope. “His death was a tragic loss.”
He seized the opportunity. “How could a puter glitch have gone undiscovered so long, before it destroyed the launch? If you’re sure it wasn’t known earlier, that is.”
I spoke very quietly. “I can’t tell you now. See me after lunch; we’ll talk then. I have a job for you.”
“Aye aye, sir.” We ate in silence. I pretended not to notice his speculative glance.
I waited for him in my cabin. When the knock came ! went out, shutting my hatch behind me. “Come with me.
Lieutenant.” I took him down to Level 2, through the lock into the launch berth, where our new launch waited in its gantry. “This is where it was,” I said. He looked puzzled.
Of course this was where it was. Where else would you stow a ship’s launch? “I need someone I can trust.” Galvanized, he leaned forward with excitement. “It might have been sabotage,” I said with care. “A bomb hidden in one of the seats. It could happen again. I need you to check the seats.”
“You mean take the seats apart? Unbolt them all and remove them?”
“That’s right.” I waited while he thought it over. “I know I can trust you, Lieutenant Crossburn. With your Admiralty connections you’re invaluable.”
A look of satisfaction crossed his face. “I’ll get a work party on it right away.”
“Oh, no.” I looked alarmed. “Nobody must know. If it really is sabotage, we can’t tip them off. Do it yourself.”
“Alone?” He seemed disconcerted. “It’ll take all day, sir.”
“I know. It can’t be helped. Unbolt all the seats, take them out, open them for inspection. I’ll come back later to see how you’re doing. We won’t put the seats back until we’re sure they’re all right.”
“Aye aye, sir.” His tone was doubtful. “If you’re sure that’s what you want.”
“Oh, yes,” I said. “Very sure.” I left him.
I posted orders at the launch berth hatch that no one was to enter, and went about my business. An hour before dinner I went to check on him.
About half of the fourteen seats had been removed, their components spread about the bay. Crossburn had draped his jacket over one of them and pulled off his tie. I found him in the launch, on his back under one of the seats, struggling to work loose the bolts.
“Good work, Lieutenant. Find anything yet?”
“No, sir. Everything’s normal.” He wriggled out from underneath the seat.
“No, stay where you are. I’ll be.back later.” I went to dinner. I ate well.
It was past midnight before he finished reassembling the launch. I met him coming out of the berth, face smeared with grease, jacket slung over his arm.
I whispered,”You’re sure there was nothing, Lieutenant?”
“Absolutely sure, sir.” He seemed anxious to get to his cabin. I could imagine how the night’s diary entry would read.
“I knew I could count on you.” I walked him through the lock. “Now we know the launch is safe, for the moment. I want you to check it again tomorrow.”
He went pale.
“Is something the matter?”
“But, sir,” he stammered. “We just disassembled all the seats. We know there’s no bomb there.”
I leaned close. “There isn’t now. During the night they might try to put one in.”
“Sir, that’s not--”
“We have to know for sure.” My voice grew cold. “Unbolt and disassemble all the seats again first thing tomorrow.
That’s an order.”
“But, sir--”
I was icy. “What does an officer say when he hears an order, Mr. Crossburn? Or didn’t your uncle tell you that?”
“Aye aye, sir! I’ll start again in the morning, sir!” He knew enough to retreat.
I returned to my cabin.
The next day I checked him at lunchtime. Again, seats were strewn all over the bay. I went to lunch, fueled by a grim satisfaction. I timed him; it took Lieutenant Crossburn just over twelve hours to tear down and reassemble all the launch seats. Having started just after breakfast, he was done by ten in the evening.
The next morning I was on the watch roster. Mr. Crossburn arrived, scheduled to share the watch. “Lieutenant, you’re relieved from watch. I have a more important job for you.
Tear down and recheck the launch seats.”
He stood slowly. “Captain, are you sure you’re all right?”
“I feel fine.” I stretched luxuriously. “Why do you ask?”
“You can’t want me to tear the launch apart three days in a row, sir.”
“Can’t I? Acknowledge your orders, Lieutenant.”
Stubbornly, he shook his head. “Sir, I insist that you put them in writing.” He spoke with confidence, knowing I would do no such thing.
“Certainly.” I snapped on the Log and took a laserpencil.
“I order Lieutenant Ardwell Crossburn to remove and disassemble all the seats on the ship’s launch and check them for hidden explosives before reinstalling them, as he has done each of the past two days. Signed, Nicholas Seafort, Captain.” I showed it to him. “Is that in proper form, Lieutenant?”
He was trapped. “Aye aye, sir. I have no choice.”
“True. You have no choice. Dismissed.”
Alone on the bridge I played chess with Darla. I was ahead on the fourteenth move when the caller buzzed.
“Sir, Lieutenant Chantir.” He sounded grim. “I have Mr.
Tamarov in my cabin with eleven demerits. I’m sorry, but I will need your written order before I proceed.” He was a decent man, and he’d had enough.
The moment was approaching. “Certainly, Lieutenant.
Come to the bridge at once.” When he arrived I handed him a paper. He glanced at it. “I protest your order, sir.”
“I understand. Carry it out anyway.”
“May I ask why, sir?”
“Tomorrow at dinner, if you still want to.” That puzzled him; he saluted and left the bridge. I lost my game to Darla.
That night before going to bed I stood again in front of my mirror. I didn’t like the face I saw. I told myself what I was doing was necessary, and didn’t believe a word of it.
Restless and uneasy, I left my cabin again. I passed Lieutenant Crossburn’s cabin, once Mr. Malstrom’s. On the spur of the moment I went to the infirmary. Dr. Uburu was there, reading a holovid.
“Good evening, Captain.” She saw my face. “What’s troubling you?” Only the Ship’s Doctor could ask the Captain such a question. Perhaps it was the reason I’d gone to her.