officer. Sheol! It might be the last free day of his life! He stripped off the shipsuit and, wearing his work uniform, headed for Pankin’s quarters.
Until he approached Admiral’s Country, he saw few crewmembers. Aside from salutes, he attracted little attention from them, though one petty officer frowned as though something was wrong.
Kas had long ago learned that a hurried, self-important manner could get you unquestioned access to most military places, and it seemed that Atropos was no exception. He strode up to the marine on guard outside the Grand Admiral’s door. “Would you please tell the Fleet Admiral that Commodore Preslin would like to see him?” He asked politely.
The marine snapped to attention, his spotless blaster at his side. “Sir!” the man replied with a marine’s exaggerated crispness. “The Grand Admiral is at breakfast, sir!”
Kas smiled. “I’m sure he’ll see me, Private. Please announce me.”
“Sir! Yes, sir!” The marine spun smartly and rapped on the door then, blaster at trail, marched into the stateroom. He did not close the door completely, so Kas was able to hear Pankin yell “Preslin! Impossible!” Then, in a softer tone, “Well, show him in, Private. Show him in!”
The marine marched back out of the stateroom. “The Grand Admiral will see you, sir. Please go in.”
Kas suppressed a grin of triumph as he entered Pankin’s stateroom and saluted.
Pankin merely stared for a long moment after the door closed behind the marine. Then, “It is you.” He paused, and then continued, “Can you give me one good reason not to have you summarily shot?” A sumptuous breakfast sat ignored on Pankin’s desk.
“Yes, sir,” Kas answered crisply. “It’s too late. It wouldn’t do any good to have me shot. If Vir Rekesh is a plague ship, then Atropos is now contaminated as well.”
Pankin stared for a moment longer, the barked a snort of laughter. “All right, all right. Sit down, and let’s see how we can best use this turn of affairs. You know, of course, that you’ve deliberately disobeyed a direct order.”
Kas sat in the chair Pankin indicated. “No, sir. I have reviewed the tapes of your instructions to me. They specifically said that Starhopper and Rekesh would be destroyed if a boat or launch tried to leave either. None did. I came over here in a suit.”
“A suit!” Pankin grinned. “Preslin, you’re a pain in the ass, but you’ve got guts. All right, you have obviously thought this out. What now?”
“Well, sir,” Kas began, “I really planned to leave that to you. I just felt that putting Ta-Lank and company into the same quarantine as Rekesh and Starhopper might give you or the Emperor a means of getting us released.”
Pankin grinned sourly. “I’m touched by your confidence in me. If you knew the lengths I’ve gone to avoid having to deal with that… that treetha…
“Oh, well,” he continued. “In this case it’ll be worth it just to see the expression on his face when he sees you here.
“All right. When we finish talking, I’m going to have him come here. When he arrives, he will meet you on your way out under marine guard.”
He glared at Kas. “And you’ll keep your damned mouth shut! Do you understand? If I hear anything but ‘Good morning, Senator’ come out of your mouth, I will have the marines shoot you on the spot! Is that clear?”
Kas was sitting at a rigid attention. “Aye, Aye, sir.”
“Good.”
They compared notes. Despite his manner, Pankin was obviously pleased with Kas for breaking the stalemate — however unconventionally.
When the clock showed 0700, Pankin called Ta-lank. “Could you come to my stateroom as soon as possible, Senator? No, no, it is really very important. There have been… developments. Yes, yes of course, Senator. In a few minutes, then.” He disconnected, and then turned to Kas, not even trying to suppress a wide grin.
“This is going to be the most fun I’ve had in years, Kas. But I’ve got to get you out of the line of fire.” He keyed his intercom. “Mor? Would you send a couple of marines to my stateroom, please? Have them stand by in the passage until I call for them. Yes. And I’ll need quarters prepared for a flag officer. Immediately. Yes. Thank you.”
Ta-Lank appeared in less than ten minutes. Pankin had the marines sent in first, then had him admitted. When the tall man entered the stateroom, he was confronted with Kas and two marines just inside the door. Kas saluted and said, “Good morning, Senator.”
Ta-lank frowned. “Good Morn… You!” He whirled to Pankin. “What are you doing, Admiral? Are you insane?”
Pankin merely looked at him impassively. “I had nothing to do with it, Senator. Commodore Preslin sneaked aboard last night. As you can see, he is under arrest.” He turned to the marines. “Please escort the Commodore to quarters, and mount a guard on the door.”
“Sir! Yes, sir!” The marines whirled and marched out, Kas between them.
The stateroom they gave him was larger and more luxurious than even the flag quarters aboard Rekesh. As soon as the marines backed out and took up station on the stateroom door Kas moved to the terminal and called To-Ling. He briefed her on what he had done and why, and let her know that she was in command until he returned. “And, Captain, please let Lieutenant Commander Kray and Lieutenant Jans know that I made it. They’re probably pretty nervous by now.”
Then he called Lady Jane. She took it well. “I told you you’d come up with something,” she said in a satisfied tone.
Then there was nothing to do but wait. He knew that there must be a flurry of frantic activity going on all around him as people struggled to deal with the fact of his presence. But here, confined to this stateroom, was nothing but worry and boredom. It was torture.
He paced. He called up holovids and bookvids on the terminal, trying without success to lose himself in them. He paced some more. He tried to nap, with little success. A few hours in a luxurious cabin, and he already felt as though he had been imprisoned for months!
He forced himself calm, called up another bookvid, and with iron discipline, forced himself to concentrate on its contents. Luckily, it was a gunnery manual — Projectile Versus Beam in Space Combat, a classic and one of his favorites.
He wished he could call Gran Telker aboard Starhopper and play him a few games of Jasc. However, Gran was serving under another captain now. Oh, he was sure that Ler-Traken would not object. Nevertheless, he would feel as though he were keeping Gran from his duties. Perhaps later that evening, during Gran’s off time…
Time might pass with agonizing slowness, but pass it did. He finally slipped off to sleep late that “night.” He was up before reveille, pacing again. The steward was just removing the tray with Kas’ noon meal when he was summoned to Pankin’s cabin.
Pankin’s expression was grim. “Well, Commodore,” he began without preamble, “I’ve made us a deal. It’s not ideal, but at least you won’t be executed or spend the rest of your life on Hellbore. I hope.
“The Senator’s tame medical board will lift the quarantine in a week or so — they want to give themselves time to look as though they’ve given the matter serious study.
“The committee will continue its hearings, and, to save their faces, the charges against you in the Lu-Jenks matter will be reinstated and additional charges of disobedience of a direct order and placing Fleet personnel at unnecessary risk will be leveled.”
He smiled at Kas’ stricken expression. “Trust me, Kas. You have made a powerful enemy, but like many senators, Ta-Lank has little understanding of Fleet matters. He seems to be under the impression that by insisting on a court-martial, he has somehow taken the matter out of my hands.”
Pankin shrugged. “To a certain extent, of course, he has. I can have little effect on the verdict of a court or on the punishment it imposes. On the other hand, I do have the authority to assign the officers who will make up the court. And of course, I’m free to talk with them before assigning them. This will not be a political lynching.
“You will be relieved of your command, of course.” Kas was unsurprised. He had not really expected to keep command of the battle cruiser now that the mission was over.
“You’ll also be moved down a hundred names on the promotion lists,” Pankin continued. Kas suppressed a shrug of indifference. He knew that Pankin had reached far “below the line” to promote him to Commodore. His
