First Command (61 page)

“But, Mavis—”

“Gah! Yer make me sick!”

“Delamere,” demanded Grimes, “have you done anything about the crash at the airport, and the other accidents?”

“When we got around to it, Grimes. Our first job was to round up the mutineers.” He added smugly, “You can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs, you know.”

“There was no need to run amuck in the kitchen,” said Grimes.

“Out!” yelled Mavis suddenly. “Out o’ me palace, you Terry bastards! I’ve work to do!”

“So have we, madam,” said Delamere. “A very good afternoon to you. Come, Doctor. And you, Grimes.”

“But, Mavis,” Grimes began.

“Out! All o’ yer. That includes you, lover boy!”

“You do have the oddest girlfriends,” remarked Delamere as the three of them passed out through the front door.

Grimes did not reply. He was full of bitter self-reproach. He should have guessed that Delamere would have his own secret plans. He could have stopped Major Briggs from making that call. . . or could he? His name, he admitted wryly, was not Superman.

He followed the other two into the commandeered electric car that was waiting for them.

Chapter 43

They drove to the Oval,
in the middle of which, an alien, menacing tower, stood
Vega.
They did not go straight to the ship but dismounted at the entrance to the sports ground. At the doors to the dressing rooms under the stands stood armed Marines and spacemen.

Delamere led the way to one of the doors, which was opened by a sentry. He sneered as he pointed to the scene inside, and said disgustedly, “What a rabble! I can’t see how anybody could have ever sailed in the same ship with them!”

Yes, they were a rabble—as the crew of any ship would be if dragged naked and unconscious from their beds, to awake in captivity. The only ones clothed, in dirty, torn uniforms, were Swinton and his Marines. Swinton, followed by the huge Washington, pushed through the mob of his hapless shipmates. He stood there defiantly, glaring at Grimes and his companions. He demanded, “Have you come to gloat? Go on, damn you! Gloat to your heart’s bloody content!”

“I haven’t come to gloat,” said Grimes.

“Then what the hell have you come for? But it’s my fault. I should never have listened to Vinegar Nell and that puppy Tangye. We should have made sure of you while we had you.”

“But you didn’t,” said Grimes. “Unluckily for you. Luckily for me.”

“Grimes’s famous luck!” sneered the Mad Major.

Vinegar Nell came slowly to stand beside the Marine. She had been conscious when she had been captured, and obviously had put up a fight. She looked steadily at Grimes. She said, “So you made it, John. Am I glad, or sorry? I’m glad for you. Genuinely. As for me—” She shrugged. “Whatever I say will make no difference.”

“
Very
touching,” commented Delamere.

“Shut up!” snapped Grimes. He turned to face Brabham—who, like the majority of the prisoners, was without clothing. His ex-first lieutenant looked fit, far fitter than he had ever looked aboard
Discovery.
Life on Botany Bay had agreed with him.

“You win, Captain,” he said glumly. Then he actually smiled. “But it was good while it lasted!”

“I’m sorry,” said Grimes inadequately.

“Hearts and flowers,” murmured Delamere.

“Captain,” went on Brabham, “I know I’ve no right to ask favors of you. But do you think you could persuade Commander Delamere to let us have some clothing? And I think, too, that the women should have separate quarters.”

“Mutineers have no rights,” stated Delamere.

“Human beings have!” retorted Grimes. “And don’t forget that we, on this world, are ambassadors of the Federation. We’ve made a bad enough impression already. Don’t let’s make it worse.”

“Who cares?” asked Delamere.

“Every do-gooder and bleeding heart in the galaxy, that’s who. I’ve often hated that breed myself—but I’ll have no hesitation in making use of them.”

The two commanders glared at each other, and then Delamere turned to one of his officers. “You might see that the prisoners have some rags to cover their disgusting nakedness, Mr. Fleming. And you can sort out the cows from the goats and have them penned separately.”

“Thank you,” said Brabham—to Grimes. Then, “How long are they keeping us here, Captain?”

“Until we’ve converted
Discovery’s
holds into palatial quarters for you bastards!” snarled Delamere.

Grimes turned away.

He could not help feeling sorry for those who had abandoned him in a hopeless situation. They were guilty of a crime for which there could be no forgiveness, let alone pardon, and yet . . . on this planet they had been given the second chance to make something of their hitherto wasted lives. They could have become useful citizens. Botany Bay would have benefited from their knowledge of different technologies.

“I’m going aboard now,” said Delamere.

“I’m not,” said Grimes. “We have things to discuss.”

“They can wait.”

He walked slowly into the tree-lined street—which, at last, was becoming alive with dazed-looking citizens. He hoped that nobody would recognize him. But somebody did. His way was blocked by a man in a light blue shorts-and-shirt uniform.

“Commander Grimes?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t you remember me? I’m Benny Jones, skipper o’
Flyin’ Cloud.
”

Grimes remembered the airship captain, had taken a flight in the big dirigible. And he knew, too, that their man was Vinegar Nell’s husband. No wonder he looked almost out of his mind with worry.

“Nell’s a fine person, Commander. She came straight with me. She told me all sorts of things that she had no need to. I—I know about you an’ her. An’ so what? But are you goin’ to stand back an’ let her be dragged away to be—to be—”

“I—I don’t have much choice in the matter, Skipper.”

“I know yer don’t. You have ter take yer orders from the bastards above yer. But—Look, Commander. You know the sort o’ routine they have aboard that bastard ship that’s ruinin’ the turf in the Oval. I’m told that you’re in her just as an adviser. Can’t yer be an adviser to—All right. To me?”

I
owe Nell something,
thought Grimes, pulling his pipe out from his pocket, and looking at it.
I
owe her a lot. And there was nothing that
she
could have done to stop the mutiny—but that won’t save her from the spacewalk along with the others. She saved
me
from a spacewalk.

“I take it that you want to rescue Nell, Skipper.”

“Wot the bloody hell else? But how? But how?”

But how?
Grimes asked himself. He began to see the glimmerings of an answer. He thought that the chemists on Botany Bay might already, after the salutary lesson of that morning, be working on it. And Brandt, after his long residence at the university, would be on intimate terms with the local scientists. Brandt, too, had always made it plain that he had no time for Survey Service regulations.

But he, Grimes . . . ? When it came to the crunch where did his loyalties lie? To his Service, or to an ex-mistress?

Certainly not, he decided, to the obnoxious Delamere. He said, as he slowly filled his pipe, “We may be able to do something, Skipper. But only for Nell. Only for Nell. Shall we take a stroll to the university?”

Chapter 44

They found Brandt
without any trouble. The scientist was unchanged, as irascible as ever. He demanded, “What is going on here, Commander Grimes? A dawn attack on our world by a Federation warship—”

“Our world, Doctor?”

“Yes. I’m married now, and I resigned my commission, and applied for citizenship.”

“You resigned your commission?”

“Must you parrot every word, Commander Grimes? Commander Brabham was the senior officer of the Survey Service on Botany Bay, so I handed my resignation in to him. He accepted it. I got tired of waiting for that chum of yours, Captain Davinas.”

“Did you tell Brabham about Davinas?” asked Grimes.

“Of course not. I knew that it was some private deal between you and him, so I kept my mouth shut.”

“Just as well,” said Grimes. “If Brabham and his crowd had been expecting
Sundowner
they’d have been more alert.”

“What do you mean, just as well? If they’d been alert, they’d have stood a fighting chance.”

“But they’re mutineers, Doctor.”

“Mutineers, shmutineers . . . a mutiny’s only a strike, but with the strikers wearing uniform.”

“Mphm,” grunted Grimes. “That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose. But I’m lucky to be alive, Doctor.”

“You’re always lucky. Well, what can I do for you?”

“Are there any supplies of Somnopon gas on this world, Doctor? Or anything like it?”

“Not as far as I know. We’re a peaceful planet. We could make some, I suppose. Do you know the formula?”

“I’ve seen it, in gunnery manuals, but I didn’t memorize it.”

“You wouldn’t. You’re a typical spaceman, always bludging on the scientists and technologists. But what do you want it for?”

“Can we trust this bastard?” asked Jones. “Why not?” countered Grimes. “He’s one of yours, now.” He turned to Brandt. “This gentleman is Miss Russell’s husband.”

“He has my sympathy,” said Brandt.

Grimes looked at him sharply. That remark could be taken two ways. He said, “Naturally, he does not wish to see his wife taken away to be tried and executed, as she will be. The trial will be a mere formality. On every occasion that the Survey Service has had a mutiny the entire crew has been made an example of. That, I suppose, is why mutiny is such a rare crime. But Miss Russell—or Mrs. Jones, as she is now—saved my life. I want to reciprocate.”

“Uncommonly decent of you, Commander Grimes. Beneath that rugged exterior there beats a heart of gold.”

“Let me finish, damn you. What I want is enough Somnopon, or something like it, so that Skipper Jones and his friends can put the entire Oval, including
Vega,
to sleep. Then Jones rescues Nell—and surely, with the population of an entire planet shielding her, she’ll never be found.” He added, “There’s always plastic surgery.”

“I like her the way she is!” growled Jones.

“All very ingenious, Grimes, and it keeps
your
yardarm clear, as you would put it. But you don’t remember the formula. I’ve no doubt that we could work it out for ourselves, but that would take time. Too much time.” He picked up a telephone on his desk. “Rene, could you get hold of Doc Travis? Tell her it’s urgent. Yes, in my office.”

“Is Dr. Travis a chemist?” asked Grimes.

“No. A psychologist. You’ve no idea what dirt she can drag out of people’s minds by hypnosis.”

“A brain drain?” demanded Grimes, alarmed.

“Nothing like as drastic,” Brandt assured him. “It’ll just be a sleep from which you’ll awake with your mind, such as it is, quite intact.”

Grimes looked at Jones. The airship captain’s strong face was drawn with worry and his eyes held a deep misery.

“All right,” he said.

The hypnosis session bore little relationship to the brain drain techniques used by the Intelligence Branch of the Survey Service. There was no complicated electronic apparatus, no screens with the wavering, luminescent traces of brain waves. There was only a soft-voiced, attractive blonde, whose soothing contralto suggested that Grimes, sitting on his shoulder blades in a deep, comfortable chair, relax, relax, relax. He relaxed. He must have dozed off. He was awakened by the snapping of the hypnotist’s fingers. He was as refreshed as he would have been by a full night’s sleep. He felt exceptionally alert.

“We got it,” said Brandt. “Nothing else?” asked Grimes suspiciously. “No,” replied the scientist virtuously. “No posthypnotic suggestions?”

“Wot d’yer take us for?” demanded Dr. Travis indignantly. “You do the right thing by us, we do the right thing by you.” She looked thoughtful. “As you know, we ain’t got any telepaths on this planet. There’ll be at least one aboard that frigate. Wot’re the chances o’ him snoopin’?”

“That’s a chance we have to take, Doctor. But you can’t snoop all of the people all of the time. Anyhow, there’re quite a few people aboard
Vega
who’d like to see their gallant captain come a gutser, and he’s one of them.”

“Some time, Dolly,” said Brandt, “you must make a study of the micro-societies of ships. I assure you that it would be fascinating. And now, while we’re waiting for Dr. Ronson and his team to let us know what they can do with the formula, we’ll have a drink. Skipper Jones, at least, looks as though he could use one.”

*****

Ronson phoned through to say that he would have a supply of the gas ready within forty-eight hours. It would take more than that time to bring
Discovery
back to full spaceworthiness as well as to modify her for her new role as a prison ship.

Chapter 45

Delamere,
after a stormy session with Mavis—who was backed by Grimes—reluctantly agreed to allow the prisoners some small privileges before their removal from Botany Bay. “You must remember,” Grimes told him, “that these Lost Colonists are descended from other colonists, and that those other colonists have always distrusted brassbound authority, and often with good reason. Who else would make a folk hero out of a bushranger like Ned Kelly?”

“You’ve Australian blood yourself, Grimes, haven’t you? That accounts for your own attitude toward authority. My authority, specifically.”

“I’m speaking as a man, Delamere, not as an Australian, nor as an officer of the Survey Service, nor as any other bloody thing. Those mutineers—and I admit that most of ‘em are as guilty as all hell—have made friends on this planet, have formed very close relationships. You’re hurting those people, who’ll never see their friends or lovers again, as much as you’re hurting the criminals. Don’t forget what I said about the bleeding hearts, the sob sisters, and the do-gooders.”

“Good on yer, Skip!” murmured Mavis.

“I haven’t forgotten, Grimes,” admitted Delamere coldly. “And I haven’t forgotten the rather dubious part you’ve played in affairs ever since we lifted ship for this blasted planet.” Then, to Mavis, “All right, madam. I’ll allow your people to visit their boyfriends and girlfriends, at times to be arranged by myself, under strict supervision. And I give you fair warning—if there’s any attempt to smuggle in weapons or escape tools, then may the Odd Gods of the Galaxy help you! You’ll need their help.”