Max pulled himself together, the wavering figures came into focus. "Mr. Walther?"
"Yes?"
"But I'm not an astrogator. I'm just a probationary apprentice.
Chief Engineer Compagnon answered him. "Kelly says you're an astrogator," he growled.
"Kelly is more of an astrogator than I am!"
Compagnon shook his head. "You can't pass judgment on yourself." Samuels nodded agreement.
"Let's dispose of that," Walther added. "There is no question of the Chief Computerman becoming captain. Nor does your rank in your guild matter. Line of command, underway, necessarily is limited to astrogators. You are senior in that line, no matter how junior you feel. At this moment, I hold command--until I pass it on. But I can't take a ship into space. If you refuse ... well, I don't know what we will have to do. I don't know."
Max gulped and said, "Look, sir, I'm not refusing duty. I'll astrogate--shucks, I suppose it's all right to call me the astrogator, under the circumstances. But there is no reason to pretend that I'm captain. You stay in command while I conn the ship. That's best, sir--I wouldn't know how to _act_ like a captain."
Walther shook his head. "Not legally possible."
Compagnon added, "I don't care about the legalities. But I know that responsibility can't be divided. Frankly, young fellow, I'd rather have Dutch as skipper than you--but he can't astrogate. I'd be delighted to have Doc Hendrix--but he's gone. I'd rather hold the sack myself than load it on you--but I'm a physicist and I know just enough of the math of astrogation to know that I couldn't in a lifetime acquire the speed that an astrogator _has_ to have. Not my temperament. Kelly says you've got it already. I've shipped with Kelly a good many years, I trust him. So it's your pidgin, son; you've got to take it--and the authority that goes with it. Dutch will help--we'll all help--but you can't duck out and hand him the sack."
Mr. Samuels said quietly, "I don't agree with the Chief Engineer about the unimportance of legal aspects; most of these laws have wise reasons behind them. But I agree with what else he says. Mr. Jones, a ship is not just steel, it is a delicate political entity. Its laws and customs cannot be disregarded without inviting disaster. It will be far easier to maintain morale and discipline in this ship with a young captain--with all his officers behind him--than it would be to let passengers and crew suspect that the man who must make the crucial decisions, those life-and-death matters involving the handling of the ship, that this all-powerful man nevertheless can't be trusted to command the ship. No, sir, such a situation would frighten me; that is how mutinies are born."
Max felt his heart pounding, his head was aching steadily. Walther looked at him grimly and said, "Well?"
"I'll take it." He added, "I don't see what else I can do."
Walther stood up. "What are your orders, Captain?"
Max sat still and tried to slow his heart. He pressed his fingers to throbbing temples and looked frightened. "Uh, continue with routine. Make preparations to raise ship."
"Aye aye, sir." Walther paused, then added, "May I ask when the Captain plans to raise ship?"
He was having trouble focusing again. "When? Not before tomorrow--tomorrow at noon. I've got to have a night's sleep." He thought to himself that Kelly and he could throw it into a parking orbit, which would get them away from the centaurs--then stop to figure out his next move.
"I think that's wise, sir. We need the time."
Compagnon stood up. "If the Captain will excuse me, sir, I'll get my department started."
Samuels joined him. "Your cabin is ready, sir--I'll have your personal effects moved in in a few minutes."
Max stared at him. He had not yet assimilated the side implications of his new office. Use Captain Blaine's holy of holies? Sleep in his bed? "Uh, I don't think that's necessary. I'm comfortable where I am."
Samuels glanced at the First Officer, then said, "If you please, Captain, this is one of the things I was talking about when I said that a ship is a delicate political entity."
"Eh?" Max thought about it, then suddenly felt both the burden descend on him and the strength to meet it. "Very well," he answered, his voice deepening. "Do it."
"Yes, sir." Samuels looked at him. "Also, Captain--if you wish it--I'll have Lopez stop in and trim your hair."
Max pushed locks back of his ear. "It _is_ shaggy, isn't it? Very well."
The Purser and the Chief Engineer left. Max stood for a moment uncertainly, not sure what his next cue was in this new role. Walther said, "Captain? Can you spare me a few more minutes?"
"Oh, certainly." They sat down and Walther poured more coffee. Max said, "Mr. Walther? Do you suppose we could ring the pantry and get some toast? I haven't eaten today."
"Why, surely! Sorry, sir." Instead of ringing, the First Officer phoned and ordered a high tea. Then he turned to Max. "Captain, I didn't give you all the story--nor did I wish to until we were alone."
"So?"
"Don't misunderstand me. My turning over command to you did not depend on these other matters--nor is it necessary for your officers to know everything that the Captain knows ... even your department heads."
"Uh, I suppose not."
Walther stared at his coffee. "Have you heard how Mr. Simes happened to die?"
Max told him what little he had learned from Sam. Walther nodded. "That is essentially correct. Mmmm ... It is not good to speak ill of the dead, but Simes was an unstable character. When Captain Blaine passed on, he took it for granted that he was immediately captain of this ship."
"Well--I suppose it looked that way to him, from the legal standpoint."
"Not at all! Sorry to correct you, Captain, but that is one hundred percent wrong."
Max frowned. "I guess I'm dumb--but I thought that was the argument that was used on me?"
"No, sir. The ship being on the ground, command devolved on me, the senior. I am not required to turn command over to an astrogator until--and _unless_-- the ship goes into space. Even then it is not automatically a matter of turning it over to the senior astrogating officer. I have a clearly defined responsibility, with numerous adjudicated cases in point: I must turn command over only to a man I believe can handle it.
"Now I have long had doubts about Mr. Simes, his temperament, I mean. Nevertheless, in this emergency, I would have found it terribly hard not to turn command over to him, once it was decided to raise ship. But before we lost the Captain I had had occasion to dig into Mr. Simes' ability as an astrogator--partly as a result of a conversation with you. I talked with Kelly--as you have gathered, Kelly is very well thought of. I believe I know now how that last transition went sour; Kelly took pains to show me. That and the fact that Kelly told me bluntly that there wasn't a member of the Worry gang willing to go into space under Mr. Simes made me decide that, if it ever came up, I'd let this ship sit here forever before I would let Simes be captain. That was just thinking ahead; the Captain was sick and prudence forced me to consider possibilities.
"Then the Captain did die--and Simes announced that he was captain. The fool even moved into the cabin and sent for me. I told him he was not in command and never would be. Then I left, got witnesses and took my chief of police along to eject him. You know what happened. Your life isn't the only one that Anderson saved; I owe him mine, too."
Walther abruptly changed the subject. "That phenomenal trick of memory you do--computing without tables or reference books. Can you do it all the time?"