Read Online To the Galactic Rim: The John Grimes Saga by A. Bertram Chandler - Free Book Online Page B

were passing through the accommodation levels. Bulkheads had been slashed through, destroying the privacy of the cabins that they had once enclosed. Destroying the privacy—and the occupants. There were no longer any bodies; for this Grimes was deeply thankful. (He learned later that Craven’s first action had been to order and conduct a funeral service.) There were no bodies—but there were still stains. Men and women die quickly in hard vacuum—quickly and messily.
    Captain Craven was alone in the Control Room. He was working, rather slowly and clumsily, wiring up an obviously makeshift panel that was additional to the original one installed before the Master’s acceleration chair. It was obvious what it was—the remote controls for the newly fitted weaponry. Grimes said quickly, “There’s no need for that, sir.”
    Craven started, let go of his screwdriver, made a fumbling grab for it as it drifted away from him. He stared at Grimes, then growled, “So it’s you, is it?” Then, to Jane, “What the hell do you mean by letting this puppy out of his kennel?”
    “Captain Craven,” she told him quietly, “Mr. Grimes wants to come with us.”
    “What? I warn you, Miss Pentecost, I’m in no mood for silly jokes.”
    “This is not a silly joke, Captain,” said Grimes. “I’ve had time to think things over. I feel, I really feel that you have a far better chance if there’s a qualified officer along to handle the gunnery.”
    Craven looked at them, from the girl to Grimes, then back again. He said, “Ensign, didn’t I warn you?”
    “It’s not that way at all, sir,” Grimes told him, flushing. “In fact, Miss Pentecost has been trying hard to dissuade me.”
    “ Oh ?”
    “It’s true,” said Jane. “But he told me that we couldn’t afford to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
    “I don’t know what’s been happening,” rasped Craven. “I don’t want to know what’s been happening between the pair of you. This change of mind, this change of heart is rather . . . sudden. No matter. One volunteer, they say, is worth ten pressed men.” He glared coldly at the Ensign. “And you volunteer?”
    “Yes, Captain.”
    “I believe you. I have no choice in the matter. But you realize the consequences?”
    “I do.”
    “Well, I may be able to do something to clear your yardarm. I’ve still to make my last entries in the Official Log of Delta Orionis, before I hand over to Captain Kennedy. And when it comes to such documentation, nobody cares to accuse a shipmaster of being a liar. Not out loud.” He paused, thinking. “How does this sound, Miss Pentecost? Date, Time, Position, etc., etc. Mr. John Grimes, passenger, holding the rank of Ensign in the Federation Survey Service, removed by force from this vessel to Epsilon Sextans, there to supervise the installation and mounting of the armament, Survey Service property, discharged on my orders from No. 1 hold, also to advise upon the use of same in the subsequent event of an action’s being fought. Signed, etc., etc. And witnessed.”
    “Rather long-winded, sir. But it seems to cover the ground.”
    “I intend to do more than advise!” flared Grimes.
    “Pipe down. Or, if you must say it, make sure that there aren’t any witnesses around when you say it. Now, when it comes to the original supervision, you see what I’m trying to do. Will it work?”
    “After a fashion, sir. But it will work much better if the fire control panel is entirely separate from maneuvering control.”
    “You don’t think that I could handle both at once?”
    “You could. But not with optimum efficiency. No humanoid could. This setup of yours might just work if we were Shaara, or any of the other multi-limbed arthropods. But even the Shaara, in their warships, don’t expect the Queen-Captain to handle her ship and her guns simultaneously.”
    “You’re the expert. I just want to be sure that you’re prepared to, quote, advise, unquote, with your little pink