Chapter 34
PORT KANE was a cluster of white domes, dominated by a graceful, latticework control tower, on the western bank of the broad, slow-flowing Rio del Oro. There was something familiar about that tower, thought Grimes. Then he laughed. It was obvious that Michelle must have had some say in its design. It was almost a replica of a far more famous erection in the city of Paris, on faraway Earth. It dwarfed the relatively squat, far more solid in appearance, towers that were the spaceships. All three of them, like Sister Sue, had started their working lives as Epsilon Class tramps of the Commission’s fleet. They had been altered, however, the one-time symmetry of their hulls broken by added sponsons. A laser cannon turret, another turret for the quick-firing projectile cannon, a third one for the missile launcher . . . Two of the ships gleamed dull silver in the light of the rising sun. The third one had been painted a green that once had been vivid, that now was dull and flaking. A hundred or so meters clear of this vessel—Pride of Erin, she had to be—the triangle of scarlet flashing beacons had been set out.
“Port Kane Control to Sister Sue,” came the mechanical voice from the NST speaker. “Control to Sister Sue. Set down between the beacons.”
Mr. Stewart acknowledged. Grimes applied lateral thrust until he had the triangle of beacons centered in the stern view screen. He cut vertical thrust, just enough so that the ship was almost weightless. She fell gently, touched, shuddered and then was still.
“Finished with engines,” ordered Grimes.
He looked out through a viewport, saw a group of figures standing on the pale grey concrete of the apron and staring up at him. He took a pair of binoculars from the box, looked down at them. There were two men and a woman. One of the men was short, with a ruddy face and a neat, pointed, white beard. He was wearing a green uniform with four gold bands on each sleeve. The other one, also a captain to judge from his sleeve braid, was tall. His face was almost obscured by a luxuriant, red-gold hirsute growth. His uniform was black with a black-and-gold kilt in lieu of trousers, with a gold trim on his long socks. The woman, too, was tall. What she was wearing could have been a short-skirted business suit in sober grey had it not been for the rather ornate golden epaulets. The lines of her face were harsh, her mouth wide but with thin lips, her nose a prominent beak.
Grimes said to Williams, “Looks like the bold masters of Pride of Erin, Spaceways Princess and Agatha’s Ark down there. I may as well meet them now. You can come with me.”
The ramp was just being extended from the after airlock door as they stepped out of the elevator cage. They marched down the gangway, Williams in the lead. Once they were on the ground the mate fell back to let Grimes precede him.
“Captain Grimes?” asked the little man in the green uniform.
“Yes. And you’re Captain O’Leary, aren’t you? And Captain MacWhirter, and Captain Prinn. A very good morning to you all.”
“And the top o’ the morn to you, Captain. Or should I be sayin’ Commodore? We didn’t think that we should like havin’ the Survey Service—no disrespect intended to yourself—bossin’ us around, but the way things are, you could be the lesser of two evils. We thought we’d be after seein’ you, bright an’ early, before Drongo tells you his side of it . . .”
“I’m only ex-Survey Service,” said Grimes, not realizing that he had lied until the words were out. “And I’m not your commodore yet. But what seems to be the trouble, Captain?”
“Oh, ’tis these El Doradan Navy liaison officers, or gunnery officers, or observers, or whatever they’re supposed to be when they’re up an’ dressed. Space puppies, all of ’em, but puttin’ on the airs an’ graces of admirals. I’ve a still wet behind the ears junior grade lieutenant callin’ himself the Honorable Claude Ponsonby. His daddy is Lord Ponsonby—whoever he might be. Captain MacWhirter has a Count—not that he counts for much! An’ Captain Prinn has a Count too—although he calls himself a Graf . . .”
“The Graf von Stolzberg,” said Grimes.
“Yes. How did you know?”
“His . . .” He corrected himself. “Commodore Kane told me. And it’s Commodore Kane who makes the rules. What can I do about it?”
“You’re Survey Service, Captain Grimes. Or ex-Survey Service. You’ve been a senior officer in a real navy, not a glorified yacht club. Drongo Kane says that you’re to be in charge of things. We’re relyin’ on you to call the puppies to heel.”
“Do any of you have any naval experience?” asked Grimes.
“No, Captain,” O’Leary said. “I was with a small outfit called the Shamrock Line, out of New Erin. You may have heard of the New Erin Sweepstake? I won it. At about the same time the Shamrock Line went broke. Thinkin’ that I was well on the way to winnin’ an even larger fortune I bought one o’ their ships . . .”
“An owner-master, like myself,” said Grimes. “And you, Captain MacWhirter?”
“I was in the Waverley Royal Mail,” said the Scot. “My old uncle Hamish died and left me the lot. In whisky, he was. In those days I was a religious man an’ a total abstainer. So I sold the distillery an’ all the rest of it an’ bought me a bonny wee ship.” He laughed mirthlessly. “It’s driven me to drink, she has.”
“I know what it’s like,” said Grimes sympathetically. He turned to the tall woman, who was regarding him through cold grey eyes that matched the short hair swept severely back from her high, pale forehead. “Captain Prinn?”
“Captain Agatha Prinn,” she corrected him, “to distinguish me from Captain Joel Prinn, my late husband. I was a rich woman, an heiress, on Carinthia. You have heard, perhaps, of the Davitz Circus and Menagerie? I was a Davitz, the last Davitz. But circuses bore me and I have no great love for animals. I sold my interests in the family business and went for a cruise in a Cluster Lines ship, where I met my future husband, at that time a Chief Officer. He paid off on our return to Carinthia and we were married. He persuaded me to buy for him the Commission’s Epsilon Puppis, which was up for sale. He renamed her Agatha’s Ark . . .” She smiled frostily. “I can see that you’re wondering how I came to be a shipmaster myself. I accompanied my husband on his voyages, signed on as purser. I became interested in navigation and spacemanship and studied. Finally I passed for Master on Libertad.” She smiled again. “Libertad qualifications are recognized throughout the galaxy.”
But only just, thought Grimes. He wondered just how much that Certificate of Competency had cost. He wondered, too, what had happened to Captain Prinn I. Obviously Captain Prinn II wasn’t going to tell him.
“So,” he said. “So.” He looked at Pride of Erin and at the other two vessels in line beyond her. “I see that you’ve all been armed.”
“Aye,” said MacWhirter. “An’ every day we’ve been pittin’ our skills against electronic enemies in yon gunnery simulator—” he waved a hand toward one of the white domes— “while the El Doradan Navy puppies have been standin’ around an’ sneerin’ . . .” He went on enviously, “I don’t suppose that ye’ll be needin’ gunnery instruction, Captain Grimes . . .”
“A session in the simulator never did anybody any harm,” said Grimes. “I’ll be using it, and so will Mr. Williams here, my chief officer—although both of us have seen action. And my third officer holds a Survey Service Reserve commission but I’ll make sure that he brushes up his gunnery.”
“It looks, Captain,” said O’Leary enviously, “as though you’ll have no trouble with whatever puppy they foist on you!”
A uniformed port official, a humanoid robot, approached the party. He saluted Grimes smartly.
“Sir, Commodore Kane instructs that you be ready to commence discharge at 0800 hours. The Commodore will call upon you at 0930.”
“Our master’s voice,” said Agatha Prinn sourly.
And then they all drifted back to their ships.
***
“Sign here, Grimes,” said Drongo Kane. “All four copies.”
Grimes signed.
He had read the document carefully and found that its provisions were as good as could be expected. He did not think that he had missed anything in the small print. For a quite substantial consideration he agreed to put his ship, his officers and himself at the service of El Dorado Corporation until such time as the contract would be terminated by mutual consent or, with an option for renewal, after the passage of three Standard Years. He, as master of Sister Sue, had been given the rank of Company Commodore with authority not only over the other shipmasters but to deal, on behalf of the corporation, with planetary governments. Items of equipment on loan from the El Dorado Corporation were to be returned, in good order and condition, on expiration of the contract; there was a penalty clause covering failure, for any reason, to do so.
Any and all profits accruing from ventures engaged upon were to be divided between the corporation and the chartered vessel—sixty percent to the charterer and forty percent to the ship. The cost of stores, services and the salary of the El Doradan representative aboard would, however, be deducted from the charteree’s percentage. The monies remaining were to be divided among the crew according to the provisions of Lloyd’s Salvage Agreement, the higher the rank, the bigger the share. All parties agreed to accept the rulings of the Prize Court which would be set up on El Dorado.
And so on, and so on.
“And now, Commodore,” said Kane, “I shall take you ashore, to my office, to introduce you to your captains. You’ve already met them, I know, but you have not done so yet officially.”
“As you please, Commodore,” said Grimes.
He put one copy of the Charter Party into his safe while Kane picked up the others from the desk. He took his cap from the hook on which it was hanging, looked at it, at the badge, before putting it on. At least, he thought, there was nothing in the charter party that required him to wear El Doradan uniform.
“Oh, one small thing, Grimes,” said Kane.
“Yes?”
“That passenger of yours. You can’t leave an outworlder here, you know. And if you have a civilian aboard what will be, essentially, a warship you’re liable to run into all sorts of complications. Legally speaking he could be classed as a pirate, you know.”
“I’ll put him on my Articles,” said Grimes. “Assistant Purser or something.”
“Do that.”
Kane led the way out of Grimes’ day cabin.