Several minutes passed before Tomys' chuckle echoed in his earphones. "Calm down, Captain! You know that we're lucky that we got here at all! None of our scientists would give me better than one in ten odds that my scheme would work. Are you all OK? Do you need medical assistance? I have a surgeon on board my Courier, if you need him. We can ground in . . . an hour and a half."
"We're all right," Jirik admitted grudgingly. "But it's pure luck that we are. The Lass has been hit by a missile. I don't know how badly. Damn it, I sure wish you'd arrived a few minutes earlier!"
The communications lag was growing shorter as Tomys' courier boosted for the moon at max acceleration. Only a few minutes passed before Tomys' voice replied, "So do 1, Captain. So do I."
With the Navy on the scene, the danger was past. The crew gathered to examine the damage to the Lass. It was obvious that the old bitch would never lift again, Jirik decided. The terrorist missile had cracked her hull down one side. Bran had reported that her frames were warped; as he said, "Her back's broken." It was an epitaph.
***
Jirik had mixed emotions about being on Trimec Base. A rosy nostalgia engendered by the base's neat, disciplined environment was mixed with uncomfortable memories of his reasons for resigning, and the reasons for his current presence. Overlaying it all was a desperate yearning for Via Telson, and despair when he thought that every moment took her farther from him Unfortunately, it seemed that they might be here for awhile. There seemed to be miles of red tape to be unsnarled.
His crew wasn't reacting as expected, either. Tor was still in a blue funk, haunted by thoughts of having actually killed other human beings. He was sleeping poorly, and had become solitary and sullen. Valt, on the other hand, had positively blossomed. The change in Valt's personality since the beating was remarkable. There had been the bloodthirsty period while they were delivering their cargo around the rim. Then there had been the period between that and their fight on the terrorist moon.
That battle seemed to have opened a new vista for Valt. Two days ago, he had notified Jirik that he wanted the other crewmen to buy him out, so that he could enlist in the Navy. It seemed that all the excitement had whetted Valt's appetite. He had confided to Jirik that, for the first time, he really had something that he wanted desperately to do with himself.
Even Bran seemed to have been affected by the events of the recent past. Now, he was as likely to be found at the base weapons range as the library. Jirik had the uncomfortable feeling that his crew was changing before his eyes, and that nothing would ever be the same as before the eventful trip to the rim.
Jirik was not in the best of moods, therefore, when he answered a knock on the door of his quarters to find Tomys standing there.
The agent grinned at Jirik's sour expression."Relax, Captain. For once, my visiting doesn't mean trouble for you or your crew."
Jirik's face cleared only somewhat. "So you say," He growled, but he stepped aside to let the small man into his quarters, and, motioned him to a seat.
"Actually, Captain," Tomys continued blandly, "I've come to update you, and to say goodbye. The Council doesn't approve of Class I's loafing about on Navy bases, babysitting spacers. I've got another assignment."
Jirik's anger had flared at Tomys' remark about "babysitting," but had instantly subsided into suspicion as he mentioned another mission.
"This one had better not involve me or my crew, or you're liable to see a real rebellion!" he replied,
Tomys' grin was back. "Don't worry. You're going to be otherwise occupied, for the next few months, anyway
Jirik sat straight up. "You've got news about a ship!" He concluded with growing excitement. "Tell me!"
Tomys nodded, his grin fading to seriousness. "The authorization just arrived. The FSS Doncaster, a DIN Class Combat Hauler, is now undergoing refit in the yards here. She's yours, if you want her."
Jirik's suspicion of the agent was returning with full force. "All right," he replied,"Now drop the other shoe. What's the catch?"
Tomys stared at him with mock distress. "Why, Captain! Whatever makes you think that there's a catch? Didn't I promise you that I'd replace the Lass if she was damaged beyond repair?"
Jirik scowled. "Simple. I don't trust you a millimeter!"
Tomys grin was back. "Well, this time there's no catch. The Council is honoring my commitment. They've ordered the Admiral to complete the refit to Navy standards, including space trials and shakedown, then turn her over to you and your crew. All you have to do is tell them what name you want painted on her hull
Jirik's scowl didn't budge. "She's some rust bucket that they were going to decommission, right?"
Tomys' grin had finally faded completely. "Captain, your suspicion is getting boring. I've been as forthright and honest with you as the circumstances permitted. Now, the mission is complete. Cony's dead, and the terrorist faction of the Actionists is totally discredited. Newsfaxes all over the rim and the neighboring worlds are full of the terrorist plot to sieze power on the rim by force, and to subvert the governments of neighboring systems. All nine rim worlds are falling over themselves disassociating themselves from the plot, and the Actionist's plans have been set back many years. I have no reason to lie at this point. I simply wanted to deliver the good news myself. As for the Doncaster, she's twenty local years old. She was already in the yard undergoing refit before the Lass was destroyed."
Jirik flushed. "I'm sorry. Since we lost the Lass, I guess I've been in a nonstop bad mood. I know that they could have just got her spaceworthy, and turned her over without completing the overhaul. I really do appreciate the extra effort. I'm sorry I sounded so ungrateful."
Tomys shrugged and grinned. "No problem. A crew that gets into as much trouble as yours needs a ship that can keep up!" He leaned closer. "I stretched my authority a bit, and put some pressure on the Admiral. When you take her over, you're going to find that she's a lot better ship than the Lass. Oh, they have to remove some of the really highly classified stuff, but you're going to find yourself in possession of completely new, state-of-the-art sensor arrays, detectors, and comps, including your nav comp. Your crew's going to have to study some manuals before you lift, just to use the stuff. Consider it a going-away present from me."
Jirik nodded. "Thanks. Is there any chance that we can hang around while they're doing the refit? You know, get used to her quirks and ways?"
Tomys shrugged. "I don't know. The Admiral's nose is already a bit out of joint about turning a perfectly good military vessel over to civilians. I imagine that I can at least get you aboard for the space trials and the shakedown. For the rest, all I can say is that I'll try." He paused, then continued, "Now, is there anything else that I can do for you? Since you wouldn't take the honors that the Council wanted to heap on you, they've told me to extend you "All Cooperation". That's political for "Anything you need, you've got it."
Jirik flushed.again. "Damn it, I told you; I couldn't let them give us a bunch of medals or anything. If word got out a spacer crew had got involved in a political operation like that, spacers would get to be regarded as spies and agents. Now, we're welcome almost anywhere because everyone knows that spacers are apolitical. Tell them that we were involved in a caper like this, and spacers won't be welcome in a lot of systems. Besides, there wouldn't be a spacer in the Alliance or Empire that would have anything to do with us. No, I'm perfectly happy to have Alliance Intelligence take the credit. There is one thing that you could do, though. You've heard about Valt?"