Dragonstar Destiny (6 page)

COLONEL PHINEAS KEMP
,
IASA, and formerly Chief of Deep Space Operations at Copernicus Base, entered the large tent which served as home for him and the noted paleontologist Dr. Mikaela Lindstrom. He had been in the nearby arboreal park of Hakarrh gathering wood for their cook stove, and while performing the nearly mindless task, spent the time
thinking.

A dangerous habit, that.

Kemp smiled ironically as he loaded fresh wood into the stove’s open maw.
Chief of Deep Space Operations.
Well, they were certainly in
deep
space, all right, but neither Phineas nor anyone else was “chief” of
any
of it.

Deep space. So deep, in fact, that they had been traveling at hyper-light speeds for almost three weeks and were now incalculable light-years from the Earth’s star system. Phineas shook his head and grinned. Whenever he started feeling bad about being voted out of power, by being excluded from the survivors’ choice of Ruling Council members, he tried to remind himself that there were far
worse
things to fret about.

Like the number one concern on everyone’s mind:
Are we ever going to get back to Earth?

Phineas Kemp, forever the optimist, believed that the surviving band of humans would indeed make it back to Earth. The means of achieving this feat, however, was a complete mystery to him. His unflagging optimism was reflected in his decision to retain living quarters in the tent which only weeks ago had been a part of the Saurians’ continuous outdoor bazaar. After the Documentary Riot (as it was now called) and the eventual realliance with the Saurians, the humans had been given the bazaar tents as temporary housing until more permanent quarters could be built by joint teams of humans and Saurians.

But Phineas Kemp wanted no part of “permanent housing.” He didn’t like the sound of those words, and so, despite the still-lingering Saurian redolence of the tent, he and Mikaela made no effort to secure more comfortable digs.

The stove’s flames accepted the new cuts with warm gratitude, and Phineas now began preparing for the evening meal. He was a member of several committees, but today was his day off, and he was playing house husband for Mikaela, who was attending a round of meetings with the Ruling Council, of which she was an elected member, and various committee chairmen and chairwomen,

Phineas frowned as he stood up and began pulling goods from their ration larder. Already the bureaucracy of their normal world was beginning to creep over their survival camp like unstoppable fungus, like Georgia kudzu, and to choke off all recognizable signs of life and accomplishment. He had never liked trying to do things by committee, but it seemed as though it was the only way to mollify some of the more liberal and idealistic factions among the Human Enclave. He believed that too many cooks spoiled many a stew, and that there was no replacement for singular, decisive, one-man-in-charge kind of leadership.

Phineas Kemp serving as a committee-person! The idea seemed ludicrous, and he loathed being a part of not one, but
several
of the damnable things! But he had no choice ...

Mikaela was always telling him that he suffered from a John Wayne complex, but he didn’t think it was very funny. Phineas had not risen through the ranks of the IASA to the rank of Colonel, before reaching the age of forty, by being a chumpy, cautious, indecisive wimp.

Hell no!

Very quickly he gained a reputation as a take-charge guy. A guy with what the Italians called
cogliones
—balls
.
In fact, he had always known that his nickname among the lASA officers was “Iron-Balls,” but he’d never let any of
them
know it.

Well, It would be a cold day in hell before anybody could say that Phineas Kemp threw in the towel, that was for certain. He’d never quit on anything in his life and he wasn’t about to quit now. Wherever this giant tin can was going to end up, Phineas vowed that he would be ready for it.

As he placed the rations in their cook-pak containers onto the stove, Phineas heard footsteps on the loose gravel outside the entrance to the tent. Turning, he saw Mikaela Lindstrom enter. She wore her usual loose-fitting khaki jumpsuit, with her long, sparkling blond hair piled up on her head. It was totally functional, but when errant strands started to fall out of the bun-like construction, Phineas found it sexy as hell.

“Hello, my dear,” he said with a smile. “How did it go in the office today?”

“Meetings bore me,” said Mikaela.

She moved close to him, hugging him, letting her head linger on his shoulder. Being at least ten centimeters shorter than Phineas’s less than imposing height, Mikaela always made him feel quite tall. He kissed her long, delicate neck and relished the smell of her freshly washed hair. A sudden rush of desire surged through him like an electric shock. He wanted her as strongly as he ever had.

Mikaela, backing away from his embrace, must have felt his sudden wanting, too. She looked at him with a wry smile.

“Feeling inspired all of a sudden?” she asked.

“You might say that. Can’t help, Mickey. It’s what you do to me.”

“Don’t call me Mickey. You know I
hate
it.”

Mikaela sat down at the small table by the stove. She tilted her head back and began unfastening her long hair. Phineas watched as the blond tangle fell about her shoulders, reflecting the dim light with a singular brilliance. He watched with admiration. She was a fetchingly sexy woman, and he was damned lucky she had thrown in her lot with him. She was like Becky in so many ways, and yet so different, too.

But wasn’t it like that with
all
the women in a man’s life? It seemed like you were always finding characteristics in current lovers which reminded you of past ones. It made Phineas think about how similar we all really were, and how silly it seemed to get into such rows about such trifling matters.

“God, that feels better,” said Mikaela, tossing her head slowly from one side to the other, letting her hair swing free and loose. “I feel like a schoolmarm with that bun all the time.”

“Form follows function,” said Phineas, attending to their now-warm rations. “Beef stew sound all right to you?”

Mikaela grimaced. “Whoever selected the menu for these survival kits must have owned stock in a cattle ranch. What about some variety, for God’s sake?”

Phineas shrugged. “Sorry, love, I have to cook them as I get them ... We could be dining on ceratopsian steaks, if either of us could get up the nerve, you know,”

“I think I’ll wait until it’s a necessity ...” Mikaela drafted cups of water from a five-liter container.

“So what happened today? Any news of import?” Phineas served their cook-paks, handed out some utensils, and sat down opposite her.

“Maybe,” she said, telling him of Takamura’s discovery.

“I admire that guy’s tenacity, Even though I think he’s all wet about changing things, I’m glad he’s not giving up.”

“Do you really think it’s a waste of time,” she asked.

“Oh hell, I don’t know. I mean, we’ll probably end up learning something if he takes an exploratory team through there. It seems like we’re constantly learning new things about this ship, but ...” Phineas shook his head.

“But
what?”

“I just keep getting the feeling that we don’t have any choice but to wait for the ship to emerge from hyperspace and see where it brings us. Takamura doesn’t have a bloody chance of figuring out how to fly us back to the solar system.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t okay the expedition he wants to mount?”

“Oh no, don’t do that! Then he’ll just have to dream up some new scheme to keep himself busy.” Phineas grinned. “No, this one is good enough.”

Mikaela grinned. “You know, it’s funny ...”

“What’s that?”

“Well, everybody was so upset with the mess we’ve gotten into, and they blamed
you
for it, then they ‘punished’ you by not voting you into the Ruling Council, right?”

“That’s what you call
funny?”
What the hell was she getting at?

“Listen,” said Mikaela with an impish grin. “I mean, wouldn’t everybody be surprised to know that I come home from my meetings of the Ruling Council and base my decisions and votes upon opinions garnered from you? I just think it’s ironically funny, that’s all.”

Phineas nodded, took a swig of water. “You mean Phineas Kemp as Northumberland, as the ‘power behind the throne’ and all that crap? Yes, Mikaela, I suppose that is kind of humorous.”

“Oh, Phineas, don’t be such a stick in the mud!”

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, breaking into a smile. “Wasn’t it Thomas Jefferson who said that people always get the government they deserve?”

“American history isn’t one of my strong points.”

“Take my word for it. And in this case, I think the people on this ship deserve to be commanded by a certain Colonel I know very well.”

“Despite the recent bruisings, I see your ego is still reasonably intact.”

“Aren’t you glad? I mean, isn’t that part of my charm? Part of the reason you fell for me?”

“I suppose so.”

“So, you’re going to approve of Takamura’s mission, then?”

“Why not? I think everyone else favors it, anyway. I was just curious as to what your feelings were.” Mikaela cleaned up the empty paks and utensils.

“Now that you mention it, I think I’ll volunteer for his little team.”

“You’ll
what?”

“You heard me,” said Phineas.

“Yes, but
why?
You just said it was probably silly for Mishima to even
think
he might be able to change the course of the ship.”

“Of course, but it will keep me off the streets, so to speak. It will give me something to
do
all day.”

“But you’re on the reconstruction and salvage committee,” said Mikaela.

Phineas rolled his eyes. “Ghack! Need you remind me? We’ve just about salvaged everything that can be used. The ornithopter’s being worked on by Barkham’s crew and some of the men from Tactical Engineering—nothing much I can do except stand around handing people tools. Great fun, that.”

“But Phineas ...” Mikaela was grinning in spite of what she felt.

It gratified him that she wanted to keep him safe and out of any potential danger, but he just wasn’t the kind of person who would be satisfied with that kind of arrangement. Years ago, Becky Thalberg had told him that he was doomed to spend his whole life proving his worth to
himself.
She was undoubtedly spot-on correct.

“I know what you’re thinking, my sweet paleontologist, but it’s all rather silly, don’t you think? I mean, I worry my
ass
off when you’re out in the Mesozoic, studying the beasts, but I just tell myself that it’s your
job,
and that’s
that.”

“I know you’re right, Phineas, it’s just that this place is always surprising us.” She walked over to him, put her hands on his shoulders, and administered some of her special Swedish massage. “I’m afraid you might be walking into something dangerous. At least I know what I’m dealing with out in the Preserve.”

“Mikaela, you’re beginning to sound like a wife. He laughed softly, but she did not share this particular jest.

“What’s wrong with
that?”

Phineas Kemp paused, considering his reply. Had to be careful here, since he knew that Mikaela was very much interested in more of a commitment than their adventurous relationship in the midst of possible chaos. One night in their shared bed, she had even wheedled a half-promise out of him that if they ever made it back to Earth, he would probably consider marrying her.

“Oh ...” he said finally. “There’s nothing wrong with it, really. I was just kidding.”

“I sincerely hope so, Phineas.” She came round and faced him, sat on his lap. “I really love you, you know ...”

He nodded. “...
and I love you, too.”

Phineas kissed her, and she shot her tongue into his mouth. Instantly he wanted her. Incredible how women had such ultimate power over their men, he thought in a flash. Reaching down under her legs, he picked her up, preparing to whisk her off to their bed when another woman’s voice intruded upon the moment.

“Hello? Anybody home?”

Recognizing the perfect pronunciations of Kate Ennis, Phineas stopped in midstride and slowly eased Mikaela to the floor. “Just a moment,” he said hastily. “Be right with you.”