Greylorn Page 13
makeit. The designers of these ships were not unaware of the hazards ofspace life; the Bridge was an unassailable fortress. They couldn'tpossibly get to it.
I guessed that Kramer was having a pretty rough time of it now. He hadconvinced the men that we were rushing headlong to sure destruction atthe hands of the all-powerful Mancji, and that their Captain was a fool.Now he was trapped with them in the panic he had helped to create. Ithought that in all probability they had torn him apart.
I wavered in and out of consciousness. It was just as well; I needed therest. Then I heard Thomas calling me. "We're closin' now, Cap'n," hesaid. "Wake up, Cap'n, only twenty-three miles now."
"Okay," I said. My body had been preparing itself for this, now it wasready again. I felt the needle in my arm. That helped, too.
"Hand me the intercom, Thomas," I said. He placed the mike in my hand. Ikeyed for a general announcement.
"This is the Captain," I said. I tried to keep my voice as steady aspossible. "We are now at a distance of twenty-one miles from the enemy.Stand by for missile launching and possible evasive action. Damagecontrol crews on the alert." I paused for breath.
"Now we're going to take out the Mancji ship, men," I said. "All twomiles of it."
I dropped the mike and groped for the firing key. Thomas handed it tome.
"Cap'n," he said, bending over me. "I notice you got the selector setfor your chemical warheads. You wouldn't want me to set up pluto headsfor ya, would ya, Cap'n?"
"No, thanks, Thomas," I said. "Chemical is what I want. Stand by toobserve." I pressed the firing key.
Thomas was at the radarscope. "Missiles away, Cap'n. Trackin' O.K. Lookslike they'll take out the left half a that dumbbell."
I found the mike again. "Missiles homing on target," I said. "Strike inthirty-five seconds. You'll be interested to know we're employingchemical warheads. So far there is no sign of offense or defense fromthe enemy." I figured the news would shock a few mutineers. David wasn'teven using his slingshot on Goliath. He was going after him bare-handed.I wanted to scare some kind of response out of them. I needed a fewclues as to what was going on below.
I got it. Joyce's voice came from the wall annunciator. "Captain, thisis Lt. Joyce reporting." He sounded scared all the way through, anddesperate. "Sir, the mutiny has been successfully suppressed by theloyal members of the crew. Major Kramer is under arrest. We're preparedto go on with the search for the Omega Colony. But Sir ..." he paused,gulping. "We ask you to change course now before launching any effectiveattack. We still have a chance. Maybe they won't bother with us whenthose firecrackers go off ..."
* * * * *
I watched the direct vision screen. Zero second closed in. And on thescreen the face of the left hand disk of the Mancji ship was litmomentarily by a brilliant spark of yellow, then another. Adiscoloration showed dimly against the dark metallic surface. It spread,and a faint vapor formed over it. Now tiny specs could be seen movingaway from the ship. The disk elongated, with infinite leisure, widening.
"What's happenin'? Cap'n?" Thomas asked. He was staring at the scope infascination. "They launchin' scouts, or what?"
"Take a look here, Thomas," I said. "The ship is breaking up."
The disk was an impossibly long ellipse now, surrounded by a vast arrayof smaller bodies, fragments and contents of the ship. Now the strickenglobe moved completely free of its companion. It rotated, presenting acrescent toward us, then wheeled farther as it receded from its twin,showing its elongation. The sphere had split wide open. Now theshattered half itself separated into two halves, and these in turncrumbled, strewing debris in a widening spiral.
"My God, Cap'n," Thomas said in awe. "That's the greatest display I everseen. And all it took to set her off was 200 kilos a PBL. Now that'ssomethin'."
I keyed the mike again. "This is the Captain," I said. "I want tenfour-man patrols ready to go out in fifteen minutes. The enemy ship hasbeen put out of action and is now in a derelict condition. I want onlyone thing from her; one live prisoner. All Section chiefs report to meon the Bridge on the triple."
"Thomas," I said, "go down in the lift and open up for the Chiefs.Here's the release key for the combination; you know how to operate it?"
"Sure, Cap'n; but are you sure you want to let them boys in here afterthe way they jumped you an' all?"
I opened my mouth to answer, but he beat me to it. "Fergit I asked yathat, Cap'n, pleasir. You ain't been wrong yet."
"It's O.K., Thomas," I said. "There won't be any more trouble."
EPILOGUE
On the eve of the twentieth anniversary of Reunion Day, a throng ofwell-heeled celebrants filled the dining room and overflowed onto theterraces of the Star Tower Dining Room, from whose 5,700 foot heightabove the beaches, the Florida Keys, a hundred miles to the south, werevisible on clear days.
The _Era_ reporter stood beside the vast glass entry way surveying thecrowd, searching for celebrities from whom he might elicit bits of colorto spice the day's transmission.
At the far side of the room, surrounded by chattering admirers, stoodthe Ambassador from the New Terran Federation; a portly, graying, jollyex-Naval officer. A minor actress passed at close range, looking theother way. A cabinet member stood at the bar talking earnestly to a ballplayer, ignoring a group of hopeful reporters and fans.
The _Era_ stringer, an experienced hand, passed over the hard pressedVIP's near the center of the room and started a face-by-face check ofthe less gregarious diners seated at obscure tables along the sides ofthe room.
He was in luck; the straight-backed gray-haired figure in the darkcivilian suit, sitting alone at a tiny table in an alcove, caught hiseye. He moved closer, straining for a clear glimpse through the crowd.Then he was sure. He had the biggest possible catch of the day in hissights; Admiral of Fleets Frederick Greylorn.
The reporter hesitated; he was well aware of the Admiral's reputationfor near-absolute silence on the subject of his already legendarycruise, the fabulous voyage of the _Galahad_. He couldn't just barge inon the Admiral and demand answers, as was usual with publicity-hungrypoliticians and show people. He could score the biggest story of thecentury today; but he had to hit him right.
You couldn't hope to snow a man like the Admiral; he wasn't somebody youcould push around. You could sense the solid iron of him from here.
Nobody else had noticed the solitary diner. The _Era_ man driftedcloser, moving unhurriedly, thinking furiously. It was no good tryingsome tricky approach; his best bet was the straight-from-the-shoulderbit. No point in hesitating. He stopped beside the table.
The Admiral was looking out across the Gulf. He turned and glanced up atthe reporter.
The news man looked him squarely in the eye. "I'm a reporter, Admiral,"he said. "Will you talk to me?"
The Admiral nodded to the seat across from him. "Sit down," he said. Heglanced around the room.
The reporter caught the look. "I'll keep it light, sir," he said. "Idon't want company either." That was being frank.
* * * * *
"You want the answers to some questions, don't you?" the Admiral said.
"Why, yes, sir," the reporter said. He started to inconspicuously keyhis pocket recorder, but caught himself. "May I record your remarks,Admiral?" he said. Frankness all the way.
"Go ahead," said the Admiral.
"Now, Admiral," the reporter began, "the Terran public has of course..."
"Never mind the patter, son," the Admiral said mildly. "I know what thequestions are. I've read all the memoirs of the crew. They've beencoming out at the rate of about two a year for some time now. I had myown reasons for not wanting to add anything to my official statement."
The Admiral poured wine into his glass. "Excuse me," he said. "Will youjoin me?" He signalled the waiter.
"Another wine glass, please," he said. He looked at the golden wine inthe glass, held it up to the light. "You know, the Florida wines are asgood as any in the world," he sai
d. "That's not to say the Californiaand Ohio wines aren't good. But this Flora Pinellas is a genuineoriginal, not an imitation Rhine; and it compares favorably with thebest of the old vintages, particularly the '87."
The glass arrived and the waiter poured. The reporter had the wit toremain silent.
* * * * *
"The first question is usually, how did I know I could take the Mancjiship. After all, it was big, vast. It loomed over us