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Ensign Schmidt?”
    “ Schmidt here,” came the
reply.
    “ When’s the next call-in for our leave
parties?”
    “ About another cosmic hour,
Skipper.”
    “ Don’t bother trying to find anyone
else. Plug the computer into the call-in channel and tell all hands
to return immediately. And make sure the message is clear—we’re
leaving in two hours, whether everyone’s aboard or not. Then put
the Molly boys on stand-by for the signals.”
    “ Molly” was short for Molecular
Transmitter, the quickest and safest means of traveling between
points less than fifteen-hundred miles apart. Cook never quite
trusted the technology but there was no practical alternative, at
least when traveling between a spaceship above and the ground
below. Besides, he hated to appear old fashioned; it wasn’t very
Isitian.
    “ Got all that, Schmidt? I don’t want
another Xanadu on our hands.”
    “ Aye, aye, sir” Schmidt laughed. The
last time they’d stopped at Xanadu, everyone waited until the last
minute to molly back to the ship. The backlog made the transmitter
blow a circuit and delayed their departure for two days.
    “ Who’s manning the bridge now,
Schmitty?”
    “ Xing has the Chair. And Davidson’s on
controls, sir.”
    Cook paused to think. All three women had
done double duty during the crew’s liberty—it was odd, he thought,
though not really surprising: throughout the Cosmic Guard, the
women always volunteered to stay behind whenever their ship moored
at Ishtar. He hated to push them further, but time was short and
there was much to do before they sailed.
    “ Tell Davidson to chart a course to
Ishtar Command, estimated departure time in two cosmic hours. I’ll
have Cardinale check her plot when he returns from the planet, or
I’ll do it myself if I have the time. Meanwhile, Xing should start
the Checklist; I’ll be there in five minutes to relieve her, and
once a few more officers return to the ship I want you three to
stand down for the next week—and however long we stay at IshCom.
You’ve all earned it.”
    “ Thank you, sir.”
    “ Over and out.”
    LaRue held his tongue but could not believe
his ears. Cook knew him too well not to notice the disapproval on
his face. “I know that look, François,” Cook smiled mischievously.
“You’re keeping something to yourself again, aren’t you? That look
of horrified disdain gives you away every time.”
    LaRue said nothing but began to fidget
uncomfortably.
    Cook clasped his hands behind his head and
rocked back in his chair. “So tell me what you think, François.
Talk to me. Don’t make me beg.”
    “ Commander Cook,” he began, in
stilted, formal tones that often slipped into his provincial
accent. “May I speak freely?”
    “ Of course you may,
François.”
    “ I do not wish to question your
judgment, Commandre ,” said
LaRue, his accent becoming noticeable. “But our orders were to
proceed ‘at once.’ How can you keep Command Base waiting? How can
we remain here two hours more?”
    “ François,” Cook replied patiently,
but with an underlying intensity LaRue always found unsettling. “Do
you really want to leave half the crew on Ishtar, only to wait a
day or two at the base until somebody remembers why they sent for
us—or even notices that we’ve arrived? No matter why IshCom wants
us, we’ll still have to come back to the planet for anyone we’ve
left behind. Leaving now is a waste of time. Besides, we’re less
than an hour away from the base, so we can be there toute suite if they really need
us.”
    “ Mais oui,
Commandre , but our orders— ”
    “ Sacré
frommage , François,” Cook tried not to laugh as LaRue
winced at his butchering of the idiom. “I admire your devotion to
duty—and your opinion is noted for the record, if you like—but
don’t worry about it. It simply isn’t worth the bother. Now, return
to your quarters and take some time off. You deserve a
rest.”
    LaRue bowed in deference to his dismissal,
and