Aames rolled to his feet, turned back to me, and sneered. “I guess you’re not a complete loser after all, Carver.” I was unsure how to take that until he winked. “All right, who’s next? Are the rest of you too chickenshit to take your shot?”
And for the next twenty-five minutes, one spacer after another lined up for a shot at the captain: young or old, male or female, new crew or grizzled veteran. Franks redeemed himself, landing three good punches before the captain knocked him off his feet. (I think the captain went easy on him.)
The captain won a few bouts, but he mostly lost. He wore down slowly, but the end was never in doubt. Even his strong will wasn’t enough to sustain him through that many bouts.
Q: I’m confused. When you started, I thought you were going to tell some preposterous story of the captain beating his crew into submission. You’re telling me he let them beat him?
Oh, he didn’t ‘let’ them. He fought back hard, but against ridiculous odds. They mopped the deck with him. And Aames took it. Some of it was playful combat, some was serious beatings, and he just took it. He got back up every time, but only to take some more. By the end, the mood had changed. He was bruised and bleeding and exhausted, but he wouldn’t give up. The spacers saw that, and the ones who were left didn’t attack in anger, they just wanted to get their shot, and maybe prove themselves against the capoeira moves they had heard about so often.
Finally, when there were no more challengers, Aames looked around. “Is that all you’ve got? Is that the lot of you?”
Walker looked around. “I think that’s it. Captain.”
Aames staggered around, found his jacket, and put it on. As he fastened the buttons, he addressed the crew. “So you’ve all had your shot. Some of you”—he looked at Lenard—“gave me some pretty nice bruises.”
Walker looked at Aames as the captain brushed dust off his braid. “So now what? You throw us in the brig?”
“In the brig?” Aames shook his head. “Hell, no. You beat me, twenty-two to four.”
“Twenty-three to three, sir,” Cho interrupted. “I still say I got the better of our bout.”
Aames raised an eyebrow. “That bruise on your eye says otherwise, Cho, but why don’t we settle it with a rematch next week? But no, you all won fair and square. No one’s going to the brig.” He raised his voice to reach around the track again. “No, you’re going back to work.” Then he looked Walker in the eye. “And in the future, when you have a beef with someone on this ship, you will bring it to me. Not to the Admiralty. Not to Horace Gale and his chickenshit SPs. You bring it to me, or Carver, or Bosun Smith, or your superior officer. We are the goddamned IPV Aldrin, and we settle our problems ourselves. Is that clear?”
There was some general rumbling, mostly positive, but not what Aames was after. So I shouted, “Is that clear?”
“Clear, sir!” they shouted in unison, shaking the ring walls.
Q: All right, Chief Carver, that’s a good story, but I must insist: What does it have to do with the events of 7 March?
Inspector, that was the day that turned the tide on our mission. That was the day our team returned to the G Ring, and they worked their asses off to get it into shape. Oh, it didn’t hurt that the captain had another public fight with Comptroller Lostetter, and he wrung from her a promise to pay bonuses to our construction crew, and to hell with the profit margin for that semicycle. But what really made a difference was that, in a rare fit of practical psychological insight, the captain reunited our team and got them to see him as one of them. That was what got them to work at an energy level we had never seen before. They wore themselves out—they’re still practically burned out today—but by damn, they had G and H Rings shaken out and ready for full occupancy by the time we reached Earth.
And that was when the Initiative announced the new project for I and J Rings on an even more aggressive schedule during the next Earth-Mars semicycle.
Q: And that was what led to the events of 7 March?
Yes, Inspector. The captain didn’t even consult with his command crew. When the mission was received at 0930 hours on 7 March, we all stared at him there on the bridge, stunned. And he sent back his answer: “I’m sorry, Admiral Knapp. It can’t be done. We reluctantly decline this mission.”
It took eight seconds for Knapp to hear and respond. When he did, his face grew red. “You decline? You can’t decline.”
Captain Aames pushed a file out alongside the call. “Yes, I can, Admiral. I don’t even need my contract for that; it’s just regulations.” The captain recited without looking down at his comp. “Standard Space Mission Protocols, revised, chapter 1, section 3: Grave Risk. ‘In all cases not involving an active war or an emergency rescue, it is the responsibility of the commander of the vessel to decline an otherwise lawful order if, in the commander’s sole discretion, said order poses a grave risk to the safety of passengers or crew, or if said order poses a grave risk to the permanent integrity of the vessel and its ability to safely return personnel to the nearest port, or if said order poses a grave risk to the occupants or integrity of other nearby vessels. This responsibility may not be overridden by the ship’s artificial intelligence, by local port masters, nor by higher ranking officers who are not physically aboard the vessel. If the commander judges that a condition of grave risk has arisen, the order in question must be declined as it is considered to be an unlawful order.’” The captain continued to stare at the admiral. “I am Captain Nicolau Aames, lawful captain of the IPV Aldrin, and it is my judgment that your order poses a grave risk to the safety of the personnel of this vessel and to the integrity and safe operation of this vessel. Therefore, I must decline the order issued by Admiral Franklin P. Knapp on 7 March, instructing me and my crew to add two new rings to the Aldrin on our next semicycle. For the record, Admiral.”
Knapp was already hearing the start of Aames’s message before the captain finished, and his eyes grew wider as he listened. But his voice was cold and controlled when he said, “You recited that as if you had it memorized, Captain.”
Aames shook his head. “I didn’t have to. You gave me a lot of desk assignments after the second Bradbury expedition. I was on the committee that revised the protocols.”
When Knapp heard that, he almost smiled. “Touchè, Captain Aames. Well played.” Then the almost-smile slipped away. “But it’s irrelevant. Aames, we need those I and J Rings operational before you reach Mars, and that’s final. We have some very large contracts waiting for that capacity, and the Initiative Council has no interest in waiting another full cycle. This is going to happen, so you just have to accept it.”
Aames folded his arms. “Chapter 1, section 3 says otherwise. My crew is exhausted and stretched to the limit by your last big push. Truth is, Admiral, I think you owe us for getting that impossible job done on an impossible schedule. But instead you’re pushing for more? It’s not going to happen, Admiral. That would be a grave risk to my crew and my ship.”
When Knapp heard that, his smile returned. “Oh, is that all you’re concerned about? I can take care of that. Aames, your crew can relax, enjoy themselves. I’ve arranged a secondary construction crew to board and do all the integration work on I and J.”
“No,” the captain answered.
But Knapp kept talking without waiting for an answer. “I hear through channels that you benched our crew from Mars. You let top-notch, credentialed Space Professionals sit idle while you worked your team twice as hard. I don’t know why you did that, but that is why your team is exhausted, I’m sure. I’m going to be blunt, Aames: I don’t think much of your crew, and I think that the expansion effort has gotten to be too much for them. Now it won’t be your concern anymore. You and your crew can just worry about day-to-day operations. As soon as Gale gets over there with his SPs, I’m assigning him as permanent infrastructure officer, in charge of all expansions to the Aldrin.”
Aames rose from his bridge chair. “Horace Gale!” He threw a pen across the bridge. “No, A
dmiral, I won’t have it. That man is an arrogant, scheming idiot. He constitutes a grave risk by himself. You can send your crew, Admiral, and you can send Horace, but you can’t make me put them to use. Once we leave the gravipause, I’ll reassign the lot of them to scrubbing the Hydroponics deck.”
Knapp sighed. “I had hoped for once you wouldn’t be difficult, but I should have known better. Aames, you’ll use my crew. You won’t have anyone else to use.” He pushed a file into the call stream. “Captain Aames, that is a transfer order for the entire crew of the Aldrin for reassignment to Earth duty. Ground duty.” Knapp waved a hand as if brushing aside an objection he knew was coming. “Oh, it doesn’t apply to you. Your contract is so tangled, my advocate office tells me it’s not worth trying to break it. But that contract only applies to you, not to anyone else. Not even to Chief Carver.”
I looked at the captain, but he ignored me, staring at the screen as the admiral continued, “Effective immediately, your crew is to stand down, start packing, and prepare to disembark for Earth. I’m afraid this will show as a demotion in most of their records, but that can’t be helped. Meanwhile another full crew will board, a crew I can trust to be more loyal to the Admiralty than to you. Chief Gale will be your second-in-command.”
Knapp finally paused long enough for the captain to respond. “You can’t do this. You can’t possibly get the transports and the—the substitutes in place in time for rendezvous.” Each end of our trip required high-speed rendezvous shuttles because our speed was fast by in-system standards. There weren’t many rendezvous shuttles, certainly not enough to swap out the crew.
But Knapp pushed another file. “Those are additional transfer orders, ship construction records, and pilot assignments. Some of us have been preparing for this for years, Aames. You were too much of a maverick for us to trust a major Earth-Mars commerce route to you. We knew sooner or later the maverick would have to be roped in. Branded.” Knapp smiled, a wide, wicked, toothy smile. “Gelded. We’ve been preparing for this, and now it’s our chance. When you reach turning point one, your crew of troublemakers will disembark, and we’ll see how you operate with a professional crew.”
Aames sank back into his chair. He looked more tired than he had after fighting the construction team. For the first time, I glimpsed what it would be like if Nick Aames were defeated.
But it didn’t last for more than a couple of seconds. The captain sat back up in his chair and pulled open a ship-wide communications channel. “Attention all personnel, this is Captain Aames. It is possible that you have received transfer orders from the Admiralty. All of you. They want us to add two more rings to the Aldrin, and I told them you can’t do it. And if you can’t do it, no one can. But the Admiralty in its wisdom has lost confidence in me as your commander, and in you as a loyal crew. They aim to replace you all with a bunch of damned SPs who will be more compliant with their whims.”
The captain paused for breath. “They may have lost confidence in you, but I have not. You are each and every one of you part of the finest crew it has been my pleasure to command. It is unfortunate that their intransigence, which is aimed primarily at myself, is now tarring your reputations as well.”
Looking straight at the admiral, Aames continued, “And I won’t have it. Consider those transfer orders revoked under Protocols, chapter 1, section 3. It would be a grave risk to this ship if it had to operate under any other crew but you.”
The entire bridge crew was staring at the captain by that point. Then the impact of what Aames had done hit me. He had just defied the Admiralty, and he had roped us all into his defiance as well. If we stood with him, there would be trouble, but we would live up to the faith he had shown in us. If we abandoned him, we might salvage our careers, but he would be ruined. No one moved, as if the choice before us, the struggle between Aames and Knapp, had us locked in place. I wondered which way the crew would turn.
Then I decided: I didn’t care how it went, I knew where my loyalties belonged. I felt damned proud to have earned the trust of Captain Aames, and I wanted everyone to know it. I started clapping, slowly and loudly.
Then Navigator Seth Howarth joined me, and I started clapping faster. Engineer Sakaguchi Nora whistled and joined us. In moments the entire bridge crew was standing and applauding. Comm Officer Ken Baker thought quickly, and he pushed the scene to every comp on board. In a few seconds, monitors lit up with scenes of crew and passengers standing and applauding throughout the ship. I swear I felt the Aldrin vibrate with the sound.
Captain Aames raised his hand, and the applause trailed off. Then he continued, “Thank you. You make me proud. One more thing: if any of you have any business that requires you on Earth, any sort of hardship, please inform your superior officer. We’ll find a way to get you downside. But aside from that, Admiral, the Aldrin’s docks are closed to all vessels except as personally authorized by myself.”
Knapp’s face was stern, unmoving. “So that’s your final word, Aames? You won’t accept a replacement crew.”
Aames didn’t blink. “Final word, Admiral. Chapter 1, section 3.”
“Shove your section 3, Aames.” Knapp looked down at his comp, and then back up. “Very well, since you have refused a direct order, and the Aldrin has been within Earth’s gravipause for five minutes, I formally charge you with violation of orders from the Admiralty. Thus I find you to be in breach of your contract. And now, sir, I order you to relinquish command of the Aldrin. You are relieved, Mr. Aames. I’ll command from here until Chief Gale arrives, at which time I shall issue him a field promotion to captain, and he shall take command of that vessel.”
The captain pointed his finger at the screen. “Admiral, you can give up on that idea right now. Horace Gale will never command the Aldrin. He’s a walking section 3, and I won’t have him on my ship. Aames out.” He pushed the call closed.
Q: So you don’t deny that Captain Aames, within Earth’s gravipause, violated a direct order from Admiral Knapp?
Inspector, you have the recordings from that day, both from our bridge and from Admiral Knapp’s office. I don’t deny the events thus recorded. But I deny that the admiral’s order was lawful. The captain has claimed that it wasn’t, under chapter 1, section 3. You’re the one who will decide that claim in the end; but for me, the claim is self-evident, based on our experience with the Mars crew. Not to mention the I Ring and—
Q. But you couldn’t resist mentioning it anyway, could you? Chief, you cannot argue that an incident which had not yet happened was justification for Captain Aames’s actions.
No, Inspector, but I think it demonstrates that the captain’s risk assessments were more accurate than the admiral’s.
Q. Chief Carver, you may rest assured that I shall give the incident on the I Ring due consideration when I issue my findings. But it remains irrelevant here.
Understood. But let me give you a more direct answer to your question. Inspector, I don’t deny that Captain Aames acted as I describe, but I deny that he was defying lawful orders when he did so. As far as we were concerned, the Admiralty had just declared war on the Aldrin.
Q: Chief Carver, you seem quite agitated. That’s very unusual for you.
Inspector, I was agitated then, and I still am now. Our crew performed excellently. That assignment should’ve been impossible, but they pulled it off. And that was our reward? To have them spit on our effort, tell us we were incompetent, and transfer us all out like a bunch of failures? No, thank you! And when Captain Aames stood by us against the Admiralty, we stood by him. If they wanted a war, we would bring them one.
Q: Chief, I understand your emotion, but it’s not helping in this deposition. I’m not your counsel—
I don’t need counsel.
Q: That’s your decision, but I should tell you that you’re making statements that could be considered incriminating. If I find they have bearing on this case, I cannot ignore them. Even if part of me sympathizes with them.
Inspector, the truth is th
e truth. I’ve learned that attitude from Captain Aames. Usually I try to express it in more diplomatic terms, perhaps, but I’m not ashamed of it. And maybe I’m just tired of being diplomatic, since it hasn’t gotten us anywhere.
Q: Still, Chief, I think it best if we take a two-minute break so that you can calm yourself. Reporter, stop recording and get the Chief another glass of water.
Q: All right, Chief Carver, let us resume. You were telling us that the Aldrin had just declared “war” on the Admiralty.
No, Inspector, you have that backward: they declared war on us. Not a formal declaration, but it was as clear as starlight from their words and their actions. And if they thought we were just going to roll over and take it, they didn’t know Captain Aames. Or his crew.
But it was a strange war. The Aldrin isn’t a warship, we had no weapons—
Q: I’ve heard rumors to the contrary, Chief.
I cannot confirm those rumors, Inspector. As you reminded me, I shouldn’t make incriminating statements.
Q: But I would point out that a ship full of smart spacers, including engineers and designers and machinists, can come up with weapons from materials at hand.
Again, Inspector, I choose not to make incriminating statements. Officially we had no weapons; and the Admiralty’s Orbital Defense forces were in no position to engage us, not so far out on the way to Turnaround One. So there weren’t any shots fired. Yet.
So without weapons, we were fighting an information war. The captain and I and Comptroller Lostetter put our heads together to work through the economic issues and consequences we would face and how best to mitigate them. Then the comptroller got on the comm to contact our customers and our suppliers and our agents. She assured them that no matter what they heard, we had the law on our side, and we would come out of this better than ever. She conceded that we might have some delays in physical deliveries, but she insisted we would deliver; and she guaranteed that data deliveries would continue on schedule. She also made our suppliers agree to keep up their deliveries. She let everyone know that the situation was not under our control, and any complaints should be taken up with the Initiative; but she also had to give back significant percentages on every deal, with both customers and suppliers. When she was done, she cursed Captain Aames, showing more skill with profanity than I had ever imagined in such a quiet woman. But she cursed the Admiralty more.
The Last Dance Page 37
