Starhunt: A Star Wolf Novel

by David Gerrold

  It’s easier just to turn the ship and leave the stress field alone.

  The only other maneuver which involves the turning of the warp generators within their mountings occurs when the ship is not in warp. If a captain wishes to direct his inherent velocity along an axis other than the “usual” forward-and-aft orientation, he need only rotate his ship while in normal space. As there is always a small stable warp maintained within the generators, they function as a gyroscopic flywheel around which he can turn—in effect, bringing the generators into a new home position for warp control. The ship continues to fall along the same vector, but pointed now in a direction other than the one in which it is moving.

  Once back in warp, operations proceed as before, only now the ship’s inherent velocity might be downward, upward, sideways—whichever direction the captain has chosen. As before, he can alter the direction of that velocity by turning within the warp.

  The main advantage of this procedure is in docking. If a ship’s inherent velocity is already fairly close to that of its destination (and it is to the advantage of all ships and orbital stations to keep their velocities within an optimum range) it need only match the angle of its approach and the direction of its velocity. Both can be done by maneuvering within and without the warp.

  Neat. Effective. Cheap.

  And if one’s inherent velocity is either too great or too small, he need only pick out a nearby planet and burn off some of his kinetic energy by fighting its gravity well, or pick up some more by diving into it. Most captains prefer to keep their inherent velocities low, however. It’s easier on the compensators. Even when the ship isn’t turning in warp, its inherent velocity creates a certain amount of feedback into the generators. The less the inherent velocity, the less the feedback.

  The Burlingame’s phase adapter and phase reflex systems have only recently been rebuilt. If they had not been, this pursuit and stalking of the enemy ship would have been impossible. Without those two systems, the Burlingame would have lacked its necessary battle maneuverability. It would have been a “straight line only” ship, limited to only the simplest of spatial maneuvers. That the phase handling systems have been rebuilt is a point of pride with Korie; he is the one who had located the parts and technicians to install them.

  He wants a ship that is as battle perfect as he can make it—if he can’t get one through regular channels, then he will go outside them and build it himself. Throughout the Burlingame are scattered dozens of auxiliary devices and controls scavenged from scores of parts depots and decommissioned hulks. Korie wants his ship to work.

  But most of all, he wants his own ship. He wants to be Captain Korie of the U.S.S. Whatever. At the moment, he almost doesn’t care what ship they give him, as long as it’s a ship. As long as it moves and holds air—

  To be a starship captain, a man needs to master a whole new order of physics just to navigate his ship; he must learn to think in two directions at once.

  To be a starship captain, a man must know his ship inside and out; he must know every piece of equipment on her, how each piece works, and how it’s taken apart, repaired, and put back together again. Before his training is complete, he will know every function of the ship; he will be able to step into any job at a moment’s notice and see why it isn’t being done right.

  A man must work the simulations again and again, so that his every split-second decision will be backed up by hundreds of hours of experience with comparable problems. Being a starship captain means taking full responsibility for a ship and her crew. A man must understand the decisions that will have to be made; he will have to make them and live with them.

  To be a starship captain—

  —is what Jon Korie wants.

  To be a starship captain at war is what Jon Korie has trained for.

  His hands are clenched on the arms of this chair. His knuckles are white. (So near. So near and yet so goddamned far!)

  The drill is 24 percent off optimum.

  THIRTEEN

  MEMO

  FROM: Vice Admiral Harshlie

  TO:Base Admiral Farrel

  Stephen,

  I thought we were going to decommission the Burlingame.

  Joe

  MEMO

  FROM: Base Admiral Farrel

  TO:Vice Admiral Harshlie

  Joe,

  Sorry, but we still need her. Besides, there’s no pressing need to decommission her now. That ship is no longer the wreck she used to be.

  Stephen

  MEMO

  FROM: Vice Admiral Harshlie

  TO:Base Admiral Farrel

  Stephen,

  If the Burlingame is in usable condition, it’s Korie’s doing. Remember our discussion about what would happen when you put a captain like Brandt on the same ship with a first officer like Korie? Well, I was right—Brandt isn’t running that ship, Korie is.

  Joe

  MEMO

  FROM: Base Admiral Farrel

  TO:Vice Admiral Harshlie

  Joe,

  He’s doing a damn fine job of it too. The Burlingame’s efficiency has topped 70 per cent for the first time in years. I think we ought to give this kid a ship of his own.

  Stephen

  MEMO

  FROM: Vice Admiral Harshlie

  TO:Base Admiral Farrel

  Stephen,

  Sorry, but we can’t pull him out without his captain’s recommendation. Or, we could—but if we did it without Brandt’s approval, it would look funny.

  Joe

  MEMO

  FROM: Base Admiral Farrel

  TO:Vice Admiral Harshlie

  Joe,

  Captain Brandt won’t approve Korie’s promotion? Why?

  Stephen

  MEMO

  FROM: Vice Admiral Harshlie

  TO:Base Admiral Farrel

  Stephen,

  Brandt wants a promotion to a desk job—fat chance—and until he gets it, he’s not going to recommend anybody.

  Of course, it’s Korie who’s running the ship and keeping her efficiency up; but Brandt doesn’t mind taking the credit for it. Korie is keeping that ship aloft. Brandt knows it, and until he gets his own promotion, he’s keeping Korie on that ship with him.

  Brandt wants to be the first man off that tub.

  Joe

  MEMO

  FROM: Base Admiral Farrel

  TO:Vice Admiral Harshlie

  Joe,

  You’re right, of course.

  If there were a way to kick Brandt upstairs, I’d say do it and let Korie have the Burlingame—but I’d rather give Korie a ship he can fight with rather than an old wreck like this.

  No, we have to keep Brandt on the Burlingame. (You might say they were made for each other.) And as long as Brandt’s stuck on that ship, he’ll keep Korie there with him to run it.

  Kind of tough on Korie, but we’ll make it up to him later.

  By the way, take another look at Korie’s file. Yes, he’d be good in battle—but I think he needs someone to keep him from going overboard; a moderate first officer perhaps. Have we got an experienced man to hold him back?

  Stephen

  MEMO

  FROM: Vice Admiral Harshlie

  TO:Base Admiral Farrel

  Stephen,

  Sometimes, I think we don’t have an experienced man in our whole navy.

  Joe

  MEMO

  FROM: Base Admiral Farrel

  TO:Vice Admiral Harshlie

  Joe,

  After reading the report of the Mitchell disaster, I think you may be right.

  Actually, what I was getting at was that Korie may lack discretion. He’s an impatient young man. While that may be good in battle, I think his first command should be on an outrunner attached to a major fleet or convoy. Having a larger plan to fit into would keep him from making rash errors in judgment. As most of our younger men are prone to do.

  How soon can you get him off the Burlingame?

  Stephen


  MEMO

  FROM: Vice Admiral Harshlie

  TO:Base Admiral Farrel

  Stephen,

  I can’t get Korie off the Burlingame. Period.

  Every time I broach the subject, good old Georj brings up his own request for transfer instead.

  He knows we want Korie, but he’s not going to let us have him unless we take him too.

  Joe

  P.S. The union rep on that ship is one of my men. He confirms that Korie is really the one running it. And he’s running it tightly too—unfortunately, because he’s not the captain in name as well as in fact, there’s a morale problem. The men don’t think they have any real leadership.

  P.P.S. We’ve had two or three battle scares in that area within the last two months. I’d like to get a couple more scouts into the sector. Do you think the enemy could be opening up another new front?

  MEMO

  FROM: Base Admiral Farrel

  TO:Vice Admiral Harshlie

  Joe,

  A new front? In DV sector? I’d just as soon start believing in fairies again.

  By the way, how did you work it so that one of your own men is a union rep? And for God’s sake—if you could plant a man in the union, what is he doing on the Burlingame?

  Stephen

  MEMO

  FROM: Vice Admiral Harshlie

  TO:Base Admiral Farrel

  Stephen,

  He’s on the Burlingame because the union knows he’s one of my men. They requested it to get him out of the way.

  Actually, he’s a decoy. If I let them think they’ve outwitted me there, I will find it easier to plant other men elsewhere.

  By the way, one of the reasons for the Burlingame’s improved condition is that she was able to refit some of her equipment locally. It was Korie’s doing, of course. He’s adaptable, that boy is, but I still think we ought to reconsider our decision about a DV supply depot.

  Joe

  MEMO

  FROM: Base Admiral Farrel

  TO:Vice Admiral Harshlie

  Joe,

  There is no point in putting up a supply depot unless you have supplies to put into it.

  Stephen

  MEMO

  FROM: Vice Admiral Harshlie

  TO:Base Admiral Farrel

  Stephen,

  There was another battle scare in DV sector last week. I don’t want to alarm you, but I really think we should move in some kind of support for the Burlingame. They’ve been there for more than twenty months now.

  The Burlingame is not really equipped for battle—either physically or emotionally. You know as well as I what would happen to that ship if they ran into a serious crisis. Brandt would be incapable of handling it and Korie would have to take command.

  That would hurt both men. Brandt would no longer be able to command his own ship after such an event. He’d have to be—removed. And he’d resent Korie’s presumptuousness and ability; he might take it out on him by putting a black mark on his record.

  Of course, all this is assuming that the Burlingame survives any contact with the enemy.

  Joe

  MEMO

  FROM: Base Admiral Farrel

  TO:Vice Admiral Harshlie

  Joe,

  Sure, I’d like to support the Burlingame. But what with?

  The best I can offer you—or them—are some new armaments. I’ll defer a couple of HE projectors and a half-dozen new missiles into the DV pipeline for the Burlingame. If a minimum amount of their other equipment is working that should bring them up to workable battle strength.

  The answer is still no on that supply depot. If Korie can jury-rig his repairs with local products, let him. We can’t afford the cost of maintaining a new supply base while we’ve still got that trouble in sectors GX and GW.

  About their psychological problems—they’ll have to learn to live with them. Theirs is nothing compared to what I’ve got going on the Sanders, the Appa, and the Goodman.

  Besides, if such a crisis should occur and Korie does prove himself in battle, it will be a good way to get him out from under Brandt’s thumb. We need some heroes about now, anyway, for the home front. We could use Korie for PR and then get him a ship of his own. We could then give Brandt a lesser man; that is, if he’s still on his ship.

  All this is speculation, of course, but keep it in mind.

  Oh yes—and increase the Burlingame’s tour of duty by another six months. At least. Sorry, but you know how strapped we are.

  Stephen

  FOURTEEN

  There are countless velocities. Moons travel about planets. Planets circle suns. Suns move in relation to other suns and all of them spin within the galaxy. The galaxy itself is moving in relation to other galaxies and who it to say that the Universe itself is not moving in some vast unknown direction?

  —JARLES “FREE FALL” FERRIS,

  Philosophy and Relativity: A Survey of Ideas

  Korie finds Rogers in the shower room. Like all shower rooms, this one smells of stale sweat and steam. Casually, the first officer drops his kit and fresh uniform onto the dry end of the plastic bench. He pauses to watch as Rogers struggles vainly with his tunic. It is caught on the bulky plastifoam brace across his shoulders.

  “Want some help?”

  “Huh?” Rogers turns and notices Korie for the first time. “Oh, Mr. Korie, sir.” He straightens—

  “Relax. There are no regulations in the shower room.” Indicating the brace again, “Do you need help?”

  “Uh, thank you, sir, but I think I can manage.” He resumes struggling.

  Korie watches amused as the younger man tries to work his tunic over his head; he looks as if he is dislocating both of his arms in the process.

  “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

  “Uh, pretty sure. I—”

  “Bullshit.” Korie steps over to the other. “Turn around.” He unzips the tunic on both sides and pulls it over the other’s head, like an adult with a small child. “There’s such a thing as pride and there’s such a thing as foolishness.” He hands Rogers his shirt and returns to his own place.

  Rogers watches him as he quickly strips off his clothes; his shirt is wet with perspiration and he has to literally peel it off. “Uh, thank you, sir.”

  Korie grunts in reply, rummages in his kit for his shampoo, and disappears into the shower, a doorless alcove behind two curved plastic baffles.

  Rogers listens to the sound of water splattering against the floor. He lays his tunic down on the bench, begins to skin off his own shorts. He pauses then, decides to wait until the first officer is through with his shower. Sharing a shower is one thing—but sharing it with an officer is something else. Korie’s voice, a surprising bass, comes caroling loudly out of the water. “When I was a lad in Venusport, I took up the local indoor sport. . . .”

  Rogers is startled. He hadn’t known that Mr. Korie was human—the fact that Korie is singing this, the bawdiest of space ballads, is a surprise.

  Abruptly, Korie pauses. “What’s the matter, Rogers? Scared of an officer?”

  “Uh, no sir, I—”

  “There are four shower heads in here, Rogers. I can’t possibly use them all. If you want to take a shower, you don’t have to wait until I’m through.”

  “Uh, yes, sir.” Glumly, Rogers strips off his tights. Naked, except for the brace across his shoulders, he steps to the shower, almost bumping into Korie, who is just exiting.

  “However, it’s all right,” says Korie, continuing his earlier sentence, “because I’m through now, anyway.”

  “Uh, yes, sir.” Rogers steps nervously past him and into the shower, still splattering hotly on the floor.

  “I left it running for you,” Korie calls.

  “Uh, thank you.” He adjusts the temperature more to his liking, a pleasant tepidness. Perhaps Mr. Korie isn’t so bad after all.

  Rogers starts to lather himself. Self-conscious of his body, he tried to ignore the inherent luxuriousness of
the sensation. He doesn’t look down at himself at all, instead stares at the shower heads on the wall.

  “Say—should you be showering?” calls Korie suddenly.

  “Huh?” Rogers stops. “Oh, you mean the brace?”

  “Yes,” comes the reply. “I’d think that—”

  “The doc says it’s okay,” Rogers answers a little too quickly. He raises his voice to be hard above the water. “It’s only a broken collarbone. He says there’s no reason at all why I can’t fulfill my duties.” And then, a little more tentatively, “You know, I’m off the gravity control board—”

  Korie doesn’t respond. Rogers starts lathering himself again. He adds, “The doc arranged it. He said if I’d trained as a radec tech, I should be a radec tech. Starting next watch, I go on the regular boards—” Abruptly, he realizes that he is being watched. Korie is standing in the door of the shower room, toweling his hair and eyeing him speculatively.

  “Don’t mind me,” says the first officer. “I’m just watching.”

  “Uh—” Rogers half-nods, turns back to the shower, lathering himself madly, now acutely aware of his own bony awkwardness.

  “I want to make sure,” says Korie, “that you don’t fall into any more bulkheads.”

  “No, sir. I won’t,” says Rogers as he drops the soap. It bounces and slides across the floor to stop at Korie’s feet.

  The officer picks up the slippery bar and hands it to the shivering Rogers. “Good,” he says. “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt anymore.”

  Rogers takes the soap from Korie’s outstretched hand. “Thank you, sir, but that isn’t necessary.”

  “Just the same.”

  “It isn’t necessary,” Rogers insists shrilly.

  “You’re awfully certain of that, aren’t you. But your past record hasn’t been too good on that score.”

  “Leave me alone, please. Will you! I can take care of myself.” Rogers grinds his fists into his ears, but even that doesn’t prevent him from hearing Korie’s next words.

  “I doubt that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be wearing that brace.”

  When he looks up, Korie is gone. Hastily, he rinses off and steps from the shower. Korie is just dressing. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, sir.”

  “That’s all right—as far as I’m concerned, it didn’t happen. We’re all under stress.”