"T.83 to Ground," Brim replied. "We're ready to taxi out when you are."
"Ground to DD T.83," the Controller said. "You're cleared to taxi. And you've got a destroyer standing off your stern."
"T.83 to Ground: I see that one," Brim replied.
"DD A.45: hold your position," the controller warned Audacious through another display in the tracked vehicle. Brim overheard Davenport's curt "Holding" through the same round-about means. It provided scant comfort; the waiting destroyer hardly have drawn up any closer to Truculent's gravity pool—nor been placed in a more inconvenient position with regard to the wind. Starships were forbidden to fly over any land areas because overpressure from their gravity generators simply caused too much damage and noise. That ruled out exiting the gravity pool in a normal, forward-running attitude. The same overpressure (and resulting noise levels) also prohibited altitudes higher than thirty irals anywhere within sight of land. And because Audacious blocked any chance for a snubbed swing with mooring beams rigged as old-fashioned spring lines, it was now Brim's difficult task to back the starship around the other destroyer in a high-wind situation. Moreover, he was painfully aware that if he so much as grazed Davenport's spotless new escort, the resulting board of inquiry would destroy his career before it had much of a chance to begin. Wrestling his jangled nerves to a tenuous draw, he shrugged and smiled to himself. Best to be on with it. In the next few cycles, he'd either win all the maneuvering room he wanted—or he would be on his way back to the ore corners. And in no way did he intend a return to Carescria!
"Ground to DD T.83: wind zero four zero at ninety-one," the Controller reported.
"T.83 copies," Brim acknowledged, shaking his head. "I'll have a balance on the forward gravity generator, Nik," he said. "Then give me a point ninety-one gradient at zero four." That would at least give him a chance with the wind.
"Ninety-one gradient at zero four," Ursis repeated.
The low rumbling of Truculent's forward generator increased as it shouldered the weight of the ship.
"Balanced," Ursis reported.
"Helm's at dead center, Lieutenant," the Chairman announced. "We are ready to move."
"Stand by," Brim warned. He checked the control settings once more, feeling a balm of resignation soothe his nerves. Trulucent could never—in his wildest nightmares—be as difficult to control as a loaded ore carrier. And he'd mastered them. "Let go all mooring beams," he ordered quietly, eyes glued to the cursor in the center of Ground Control's lenses. Instantly, the beams vanished. "Dead slow astern all," he ordered, feeling sweat break out on his forehead.
"Dead slow astern," Ursis echoed tensely—the ship began to move.
With one eye on Audacious, Brim struggled to keep the cursor centered, but in spite of every effort, it started across the glowing lens—sure indication Truculent was drifting upwind. Brim's heart leaped into his mouth. 'Too much gradient, Nik!" he warned. "We're sliding into Audacious."
"I've got a fix on it," Ursis answered tensely. "Sorry."
"'S all right," Brim croaked with relief as the drifting slowed and finally ceased—but he didn't breathe again until Truculent was backed all the way off the gravity pool. "Stop together, he ordered. She was now directly beside Audacious—separated at the stern from Davenport's spotless decks by no more than a score of irals.
"Stop together," Ursis echoed.
Now came the tricky part.
Screwing up his courage again, he ordered, "Dead slow astern, port."
"Dead slow astern, port." Truculent's bow began to swing sharply toward disaster waiting only irals away.
"Brim! What in the Universe are you...?" Gallsworthy' growled beside him.
"It is Lieutenant Brim's helm, Lieutenant Gallsworthy," Collingswood interrupted. "By your orders."
Brim put them both from his mind. The next ticks were critical. He tensed, waited.... "Quarter astern starboard, dead slow astern port," he uttered with a dry mouth.
"Quarter astern starboard, dead slow astern port," Ursis echoed. Truculent's bow stopped its swing only an iral or s from Audacious, then slowly began to draw away to safety. This time, the gravity gradient held and—as Brim planned—she continued in a wide turn to port. But an eternity passed before the starship's needle bow finally pointed out on to the rolling waters of the basin.
Brim never so much as looked back. "Ahead one-quarter, both," he ordered weakly.
"Ahead one-quarter, both," Ursis echoed—this time with an ear-to-ear grin. He knew.
At that moment, a display winked into life with the image of Sophia Pym touching thumb to forefinger.
"Too bad you can't see Amherst's face," she whispered gleefully. Beside her, Theada's look of astonishment had grown to one of total disbelief.
While Truculent moved into the relative freedom of the basin, the controller called once more from the jetty: "Ground to DD 183: you're cleared for taxi out to sea marker 981G. See you all next time you're in port. Good hunting!"
"DD T.83 to Ground," Brim replied. "Proceeding to marker 981G. And thanks." He peered into the driving rain ahead. "I am taking the helm, Mr. Chairman," he announced.
"You have the helm, Lieutenant Brim," the Chairman acknowledged. For the first time that morning, Brim's hands touched the directional controls. He was now in direct command of the ship itself.
Inadvertently, he glanced at Gallsworthy—who was now staring back with unconcealed curiosity.
"Yes, sir?" Brim asked.
"Mind your own business, Carescrian," Gallsworthy replied expressionlessly. But somehow the coldness had gone.
Brim nodded and turned away silently. Now was not the time to work out his basic relationship with this taciturn individual. "Taxi checks, Mr. Chairman," he said. "Lift modifiers?"
"Fifteen, fifteen, green," the Chairman replied.
"Yaw dampers and instruments?"
"Checked."
"Weight and balance finals?"
"One sixty-nine five hundred—no significant changes, Lieutenant."
"Twenty-one point two on the stabilizer. Engineer's taxi check, Nik?"
"Complete," Ursis growled.
"Taxi checklist complete," the Chairman pronounced.
With a feeling of relief, Brim watched the opening to the basin slide past. Truculent was now over open water. "Half ahead both," he said, setting a course for marker 98lG across the ranks of marching waves.
"Half ahead, both," Ursis echoed.
During the nearly ten cycles required to taxi into place, Brim made his own final checks of the starship's systems, finishing only moments before the flashing buoy hove into view ahead in the Hyperscreens. "DD T.83 to Harbor Control," he announced. "Starship is in sight of marker 981G.
Heading two ninety-one." He grinned in spite of himself. "Lift-off checklist, Mr. Chairman," he ordered.
"Transponders and 'Home' indicator on. 'Fullstop' cell powered. All warning lights on," the Chairman reported.
"Engineer's check?"
"Complete," Ursis said.
"Configuration check.... Antiskid?"
"Skid is on," replied the Chairman.
"Speed brake?"
"Forward."
"Stabilizer trim—delete the gravity gradient, Mr. Chairman."
"Gravity gradient eliminated. Ship carries normal twenty-three one on lift-off."
"Very well, Mr. Chairman. Course indicators, Mr. Gallsworthy?" Brim prompted politely.
Mind clearly elsewhere for the moment, Gallsworthy jumped in his recliner. "A moment, Lieutenant," he mumbled with a reddening face and busied himself frenetically at the course controls. "Set and checked," he croaked at length.
"Lift-off check comnpleie, Captain Collingswood," Brim announced. "At your command."