"I do, too!" Moulding snouted back. "I shall be back before you finish your preflight checklist." He started for the center at a run, but never got much past the gravity pad before Townsend pulled up in an open skimmer, his flabby face red with anger.
"Who said you could start that ship?" he shouted at Brim. "Who even gave you permission to board?
Xaxtdamned Carescrian imbecile—I'll teach you to—"
Moulding grabbed the man's arm before he could reach the boarding ladder. He was smaller than Townsend, but the look in his eyes brooked no nonsense. " I gave him permission," he growled.
Townsend stopped abruptly, then took a step back. "Oh," he said, looking down at Moulding's hand. "I see."
"That's a good chap," Moulding said, releasing his grip with deliberate slowness. But the steely look in his eyes remained. "I'm counting on you to provide Mr. Brim with an impartial check ride, old boy. Don't let me down."
Townsend rubbed his forearm and scowled. "Oh, he'll get a ride, Moulding. One he won't forget."
"That may well be so," Moulding agreed, then glanced up and met Brim's eyes for a moment. He winked, then looked back at Townsend with a little smile on his face. "But then," he added, "unless I miss my guess, Townsend, so will you."
Within fifteen cycles, Brim had completed the ship's preflight checks, while Townsend silently haunted the rear cockpit like a wraith. As whining electric motors drew the canopy shut, he could see that Moulding had taken up a position off the starboard forequarter, and was standing with his hands behind his back, cape blowing in the breeze. "Ship's ready for internal gravity, Commander," he reported on the intercom.
"Well, switch it, then. Don't tell me about it," Townsend sniffed. "After that, you may taxi out to the takeoff area. I've filed a flight plan. And be careful, mind you. These are touchy ships."
"Aye, Commander," Brim said between clenched teeth. He pulled on his helmet, then called the tower for clearance and switched to internal gravity. While the little ship lifted from the gravity pad and hovered on its own, he endured a brief moment of nausea that tied his stomach in knots. Finally, he got his clearance, locked the steering engine into taxi mode, and slid the thrust control into run-up position. At his wave, a Crew Chief dressed in bright yellow coveralls shut off the optical moorings, and the T-29 moved off the gravity pad. Moulding grinned as they taxied past and held his thumb up in the universal sign of good luck.
"You'll need it, Carescrian," Townsend laughed archly over the intercom.
Brim kept his silence. While the spacecraft rolled out, he made a final panel check and selected the Stability Augmentation function on the navigation board. Within a few clicks, a white star illuminated on the mode selector, indicating that the ship had located and was tracking at least three stars in its preprogrammed catalog. If Townsend were as sloppy a Helmsman as promised to be, the system might save both their lives. At the run-up area beside the bay, he waited for takeoff clearance while he spun the R-1820 through military power and completed his takeoff checkout list. Then he taxied out over the water to the departure vector. Ahead, a solid ruby light flashed out of the bright distance. "Your ship," he announced to Townsend. Somehow, in the last few cycles, the morning had become a lot better, in spite of the blockhead riding aft.
Townsend advanced the energy choke to military power but held in place for a few moments to let the plasma build. Then he released the gravity brakes and the T-29 began to dash across the water, gaining speed with each moment.
After about fourteen clicks, Brim began to frown. They had plenty of takeoff velocity now—why weren't they lifting? He checked the readouts as their speed increased. Everything looked normal. Glancing at the flight systems panel, he started to scan for a malfunction when suddenly Townsend pitched the nose up violently and the little ship began to climb like the old-fashioned chemical rockets he'd seen in school. A split click later, the T-29 started to roll around its forward axis as if it were drilling a hole in the sky.
Biting his lip, Brim grabbed the seat on either side of him to keep his hands from the controls. Soon they were nearly fifty thousand irals up, but the rolling climb continued unabated. Was the ship malfunctioning or was Townsend merely showing off? Brim decided to wait things out for another few clicks and braced himself for anything that might transpire.
An instant later, the T-29 whipped around in a wild yaw and headed back toward the surface. But an abrupt decrease in power told Brim all he needed to know about their wild maneuvering. Townsend was still in control, and whatever game the arrogant numskull was trying to play, it was clear he actually thought that he could frighten a combat Helmsman by a little stunt flying. Taking a deep breath, Brim settled back in his recliner, relaxing while the little ship's spaceframe creaked and groaned under the violent maneuvers. With the Stability Augmentation system in backup control, there wasn't much even a total incompetent could do to get them into trouble. But truth to tell, Brim had endured enough Townsends to fill a cesspool. Now he was simply waiting. This match had two periods, and the second was his.
His turn came after a purposely crabbed landing that almost cost them a surface loop; Brim could feel Townsend desperately fighting the controls for half the landing vector. When presently they coasted to a hovering stop just off the surface of the water, Brim almost felt honored. The simpleton had tried so hard to frighten him that he'd almost caused a crash.
"Your ship," Townsend announced disdainfully. But his voice had a slight edge. He knew how close he'd come.
"Very well," Brim acknowledged in a calm voice. He took his time running a number of checkout routines, then accelerated into a normal takeoff run and gently lifted ship, climbing slowly while he tested himself. It was, after all, months since he'd been at any controls. By the time they'd climbed through thirty thousand irals, however, he knew all he needed about himself and the ship. He was satisfied. Then he began to wait. What would happen next was entirely up to Townsend.
"Well, come on, Brim," the man taunted presently. "Anybody can take off and climb." He laughed cynically. "You must have convinced somebody you know how to fly. But so far, all you've shown me is that you're a typical Carescrian phony. Let's see something exciting if you fancy a job flying for the Fleet again."
"You're sure that's what you want?" Brim asked.
"I am not in the habit of wasting words on lowlife trash like you," Townsend growled. "Now either show me some flying, or I shall take us back to the base immediately. Unlike you, I have important things in my life."
"I see," Brim said through clenched teeth. "As you wish." Quietly, he shut off all external COMM, then punched four circuit breakers controlling the little ship's Stability Augmentation system. For the maneuvers he had planned, it would just be in the way.
"Hey, jerk," Townsend complained promptly, "you just shut down the SAS—you want to get us both killed?"
"Perhaps I do," Brim said quietly into the intercom. "Are you ready to die?" At that, he rolled the ship inverted and shut off the spin grav. The T-29 began to fall like a rock.
"Xorked Universe!" Townsend swore in a panicked voice. "What are you doing, zukeed?"
"Locking you out of the control system, for one thing," Brim answered, punching more circuit breakers.
"—and your escape mechanism," he added. "You said you wanted some excitement—well, by Voot's beard, that is precisely what you are about to get." While he spoke, the still-inverted ship was dropping like a meteor, with less than a thousand irals to go.