The stranger put gloved hands to his helmet, twisted, lifted. He stared at Grimes—and Grimes stared at him. It was long seconds before Grimes recognized him. One is used to seeing one’s own face in a mirror, but one spends very little (if any) time studying solidographs of oneself. Dimly, Grimes was aware that the other stranger, standing to one side and a little behind the commodore, had removed her helmet. He didn’t really notice her until she spoke.
“This is a surprise, John,” said Maggie Lazenby.
Flandry laughed. “Getting back to our original argument—just which of you two gentlemen is the senior?”
Chapter 14
“MPHM,” grunted Grimes.
“Mphm,” grunted Grimes.
Slowly he opened the pouch at his belt, took from it his tobacco tin and his battered pipe. Carefully he filled the pipe, returned the tin to the pouch, brought out a lighter. He lit the pipe. He squinted at Grimes through the swirl of blue, acrid smoke.
Slowly he opened the pouch at his belt, took from it his tobacco tin and his battered pipe. Carefully he filled the pipe, returned the tin to the pouch, brought out a lighter. He lit the pipe. He squinted at Grimes through the swirl of blue, acrid smoke.
Sonya made a major production of a lung-wracking cough.
Maggie said, “Let the man have his little pleasures—and his aid to cerebration.”
Sonya demanded, “What are you doing with him?”
Maggie replied, “I could ask you the same, duckie.”
Grimes demanded, “How the hell did you get here?”
Grimes replied, “The same way as you.” He gestured toward the nearest hexagonal viewport with the hand that held the pipe.
Grimes stared out into the blackness. There had been three vessels there: Flandry’s Vindictive, Irene’s Wanderer, his own Faraway Quest. Now there were four. He asked, “And what is the name of your ship?”
“Faraway Quest, of course. She was Delta Puppis before the Federation flogged her to us.”
“Mphm,” grunted Grimes again, feeling a twinge of envy. His Faraway Quest was an ex-Epsilon Class tramp. He turned to Mayhew. “You might have kept me better informed, Commander.”
“Sir, both Trialanne and I tried to tell you as soon as this other Faraway Quest broke through. I couldn’t tell you anything before then as she does not carry a psionic communications officer.”
“Unfortunately, no,” agreed Grimes II. “I tried to convince my masters that a good PCO is worth ten thousand times his weight in Carlotti transceivers—but they know best.” He added after a pause, “I can never understand this craving to put oneself at the mercy of a single fuse. . . .”
“And how many times have you heard that before, Maggie?” asked Sonya.
“I’ve lost count,” said Maggie Lazenby.
“But this question of seniority . . . ?” hinted Flandry, obviously determined to extract the utmost in amusement from the situation.
“I am the senior,” stated both Grimeses.
“I was here first,” said Grimes I.
“Mine is the larger ship,” said Grimes II.
Grimes I laughed. “This is bloody absurd, Grimes. Before we get involved in any futile arguments would you mind putting me—us—into your picture?”
“I’ll try, Grimes. My masters decided that it was time that somebody took another expedition out to The Outsiders’ Ship, and I was given the job. Maggie—you do know Maggie, of course . . .?”
“I do. And so does Sonya.”
“And I know Sonya. Quite a family party, isn’t it? But where was I? Oh, yes. Maggie, although she’s married to me, has retained her Federation citizenship and her commission in the Federation’s Survey Service. She’s along as an observer for the Federation.”
“As Sonya is. But go on.”
Grimes II carefully relit his pipe. “Well, we rather suspected that there would be other ships, in addition to the known derelicts, in orbit about The Outsider. But we were certainly surprised to find that one of those other ships, like mine, was named Faraway Quest. Your second-in-command, Commander Williams, was even more surprised. It must have been a shock to him to see my face looking out of the screen when we started nattering over the NST radio. It put him in rather a dither. There he was, conditioned to say, ‘Yes, sir; no, sir,’ to Commodore Grimes. . . .”
“That doesn’t sound like Williams!” said Grimes II.
“Well, as a matter of fact he called me ‘Skipper.’ But he was in a fine tangle of conflicting loyalties. He suggested that I’d better make contact with you to get things sorted out, and told me where I’d find you. And now, Commodore Grimes, suppose you introduce your friends to me. . . .”
“Certainly, Commodore Grimes,” said Grimes who, in a dazed sort of way, was beginning to enjoy himself. “Irene, Trialanne, this, as you see, is Commodore Grimes, who obviously is from a time track not too far divergent from my own. And the lady is Commander Lazenby, of the Federation’s Survey Service, and also Mrs. Grimes. Commodore, may I present Mrs. Trafford, who is chief officer and owner of the so-called yacht Wanderer, and Trialanne, one of her PCOs. Oh, yes, before I forget—Mrs. Trafford is also the ex-Empress Irene.”
“I am honored,” said Grimes II, with a stiff little bow.
“You bloody well should be,” growled Irene.
“And Mr. Smith, the managing director of GLASS, charterer of Wanderer. GLASS is an acronym for Galactic League Against Suppression and Slavery. It is, I imagine, a severe pain in the neck to quite a few governments in Irene’s universe. . . .”
“We try to be just that,” agreed Smith modestly.
“And this, Commodore, is Captain Sir Dominic Flandry, of the Imperial armed scout Vindictive. The young gentleman with him is Ensign Bugolsky.”
Flandry smiled, but his eyes were cold, wary. “I am glad to meet you, Commodore. And you, Commander Lazenby.”
You would be, thought Grimes.
“In one way your arrival, sir, is welcome. Until now I have been inclined to doubt your alter ego’s stories of alternate time tracks and all the rest of it. But now . . .” Flandry shrugged. He went on, “You are welcome to join our discussion.”
“What discussion?” asked Grimes II.
“As to who can lay claim to The Outsider.”
“You will agree with me,” said Grimes I, “that it lies within Rim Confederacy’s territorial space.”
“Of course,” said Grimes II.
“But whose Rim Confederacy?” demanded Flandry and Irene simultaneously. “Yours or his?”
“It’s my flag that’s planted on it,” stated Grimes I stubbornly.
“You and your bloody flag!” snarled Irene.
“As I see it,” said Grimes II judiciously, “this is a matter to be decided between Commodore Grimes and myself.”
“Definitely,” said Grimes I.
“We’re surrounded by the bastards,” muttered Irene. Then, to Flandry, “You’ll not stand for that, Sir Dominic?”
“You,” said Sonya, “can fight it out between yourselves which Empire has a claim to ownership.”
Flandry flashed a charming smile at Irene. “I really think, ma’am, that we imperialists should stick together.”
“GLASS has never approved of imperialism,” stated Smith. “In any case, Wanderer is on charter to my organization.”
“I seem to remember,” said Sonya coldly, “that quite some time ago it was decided that I should preside over this meeting. Even though my husband has been duplicated, I have not. Therefore I suggest that we carry on from where we left off.”
“And just why were you so honored, Sonya?” asked Maggie curiously.
“Because I, as an officer of the Federation’s Survey Service, am the only one who can claim neutral status.”
“But I, too, am an officer of the Federation’s Survey Service, dearie.”
“Commodore Grimes!” Mayhew called excitedly.
Both Grimeses turned to look at him.
“Yes, Commander?” asked Grim
es I.
“Faraway Quest . . . She’s . . . gone!”
“I was in touch with Clarisse,” confirmed Trialanne. “But the contact has been broken.”
From Flandry’s suit radio came a small, tinny voice. “Captain, sir, Faraway Quest, the first Faraway Quest, has vanished.”
There was no need for Grimes to stare out through the viewport, but he did so. There, hanging in nothingness, were the three ships, three only: Vindictive, Wanderer and what must be the other Quest, the wrong Quest.
He turned to look at the elaborately grotesque Outsider with something akin to hatred. “That bloody thing!” he muttered. “That bloody thing!” And he thought, My ship, my people . . . where are they? Where or when has It thrown them?
The Iralian woman said softly, “Commodore, It is not responsible. Your vessel’s Mannschenn Drive was restarted just before she vanished. So I am told by Mr. Tallentire, aboard Wanderer.”
“Trialanne! Mayhew! Get in touch with Clarisse. Find out what’s happening!”
“Don’t you think that I’m bloody well trying already?” snarled Mayhew. “Damn your ship. It’s my woman I’m worried about!”
“Sorry, Ken,” said Grimes. “I needn’t tell you to do your best, and better. . . .”
“Mutiny?” asked Grimes II quietly.
“Be your age, Commodore!” flared Grimes I. “With a handpicked crew, like mine, it’s impossible.”
“The passengers weren’t handpicked, John,” Sonya told him somberly. “At least, not by you.”
Mayhew, his face white and strained, whispered, “The blame is mine, John. I should have disregarded the Rhine Institute’s Code of Ethics. I should have pried.”
“But you didn’t. And I didn’t order you to. . . .” He looked around him at the faces of the others in the control room. All realized the gravity of the situation.
Grimes II broke the silence. He said, “Much as I hate to leave The Outsiders’ Ship to these . . . outsiders, my Faraway Quest is at your disposal, Commodore. After all, we may as well keep this in the family.”
“Mutiny is a crime,” stated Irene. “All law-abiding citizens should combine to capture and to punish the criminals. I am with you. I am sure that I speak for my officers.”
“And count me in,” said Flandry, not without a touch of regret.
“Thank you,” Grimes said. “Thank you. All of you.”
“And where,” asked Maggie Lazenby, “do we go from here?”
Chapter 15
WHERE DID THEY GO FROM THERE?
Where had Faraway Quest gone?
And where was that Waldegren destroyer, Adler?
But the discussion, the consideration of these problems was better than the rather childish squabbling as to who had prior claim to The Outsiders’ Ship.
It was decided that Grimes, Sonya and Mayhew should take passage in the second Faraway Quest, and that Flandry should accompany them. Flandry’s own ship, Vindictive, was unsuitable for the pursuit of the original Quest. She had faster-than-light drive, of course, and faster-than-light deep space communications equipment, but neither of these operated on the principles of the Mannschenn Drive or the Carlotti beacon. She could proceed from Point A to Point B at least as fast as Faraway Quest or Wanderer, but until she reemerged into normal space time she would be completely out of touch with them.
Vindictive, therefore, would remain in orbit about The Outsider as a guard ship. Flandry impressed upon her acting captain that he was to counter any hostile move made by Adler, should she put in an appearance, without hesitation, but that he was to be careful in his dealings with Faraway Quest I should she return. As long as there was any possibility that her rightful crew were still alive, as prisoners, as hostages, their safety must be considered at all times.
All this took time, but not too much time. And then Flandry, with his aide, returned briefly to his own vessel, while Irene and her party made their way back to Wanderer, and while Grimes I in his pinnace followed his other self, in his pinnace, to Faraway Quest II. The stowage of this extra boat in the Quest’s cargo hold presented no great problems. By the time that it was secured Captain Flandry was alongside, at the airlock, and was being admitted.
And then the control rooms of Wanderer and Faraway Quest were manned. Grimes sat in one of the spare acceleration chairs, with Mayhew to one side of him and Sonya to the other, and with Flandry beside Sonya. He watched the other Grimes enviously. He still had a ship of his own. He looked curiously at the officers at their stations—and they looked curiously at him and at Sonya and at Flandry. He felt that he almost knew them. Almost certainly their counterparts lived in his continuum; he must have met some of them, however briefly. The communications officer, beside whom Mayhew had taken a seat . . . Surely that was young Carradine, who held the same rank in Rim Runners in Grimes’ universe. . . .
Grimes II was giving his orders unhurriedly, decisively; they were acknowledged smartly. In the little screen of the NST transceiver, Captain Trafford in Wanderer’s control room was doing likewise. Then Trafford said, facing the iconoscope, “All machinery on full stand by, Commodore.”
“Thank you, Captain,” replied Grimes II, just a fraction of a second before Grimes I could do so. (I’ll have to watch myself, he thought. I’m only a passenger. . . .)
“Execute on the count of zero.”
“Aye, aye. Execute on the count of zero.”
“Five . . .” intoned Grimes II. “Four . . . Three . . . Two . . . One . . . Zero!”
From below came the high, undulating whine of the Mannschenn Drive, and with it the temporal disorientation, the sense of unreality. Grimes looked at Sonya and asked himself, with wry humor, How many of me is she seeing now? The picture of Wanderer’s control room faded from the NST transceiver screen, was replaced by that in the screen of the Carlotti set. Beyond the viewports the brightly lit Vindictive and the distant Shaara derelict faded into invisibility—but the cold-gleaming intricacy of The Outsiders’ Ship persisted stubbornly.
It is in every space, thought Grimes. It is in every time. But how is it that nobody else has ever reported this phenomenon? He answered his own question. Dead men and missing men do not tell tales.
And then, suddenly, things were normal—or as normal as they ever are, as they ever can be while the Drive is in operation.
Flandry looked at Grimes. His face was pale. He said, “So this is your Mannschenn Drive. I think I prefer our Standing Wave.”
“You get used to it,” Grimes told him.
“Speak for yourself,” snapped Sonya.
But Grimes II—after all, this was his ship—was taking charge. “Mr. Carradine,” he ordered, “keep your ears skinned for the faintest whisper from anybody on the main Carlotti. Grab a bearing if you can. Mr. Danby, let me know if you see even the merest flicker in the MPI. And you, Commander Mayhew, I needn’t tell you what to do. I’m sorry that this ship doesn’t run to psionic amplifier, but Mr. Metzenther and Trialanne in Wanderer have one.”
Flandry said something about trying to find a black cat in a coal mine at midnight. Grimes II laughed. “Yes, Captain, that just about sums it up. And once we do find it we may not be much better off. For any physical contact to be made between ships while the Mannschenn Drive is operating there must be exact synchronization of temporal precession rates. There have been devices whereby one vessel can induce synchronization in the Mannschenn Drive unit of another vessel with her own. But most ships today—certainly all warships—are fitted with special governors which make this impossible unless the captain so desires.”
“And when do you start accelerating, Commodore? I’m finding all this free fall rather boring.”
“As soon as we know where to accelerate to.”
Flandry shrugged. The gesture, now that he was out of his space suit and attired in a close-fitting, beautifully tailored, black and gold uniform, was much more effective.
Irritated, Grimes II asked sharply, “And do you have any ideas, Captain Fla
ndry?”
“Why, yes. People don’t hijack ships just for the fun of it. We don’t have any Duchy of Waldegren in my universe—but, from what I have gathered, the Waldegrenese are baddies. The people who have seized the Faraway Quest, the first Faraway Quest that I was aboard, are also baddies. Could this hijacked Faraway Quest be making a rendezvous with Adler?”
“What do you think, Commodore?” asked Grimes II.
“I think that Captain Flandry could be right, Commodore,” replied Grimes I.
“Of course I’m right,” said Flandry.
“Mphm,” grunted Grimes II thoughtfully. He turned to his navigator. “Mr. Danby,” he said, “run up a trajectory for Waldegren. We’ll just have to assume that she’s coming out by the most direct route, the same as we did from Faraway. . . .”
“No,” Grimes told him. “She’s running out on the Leads astern, the same as we did.”
“The Leads?” demanded Grimes II.
“Yes. Macbeth and the Kinsolving sun in line.”
“You have some most peculiar ideas about navigation on your time track, Commodore. However, this Adler also belongs to your time track, so . . . All right, Mr. Danby, do as the carbon copy Commodore Grimes says. And Mr. Carradine, inform Wanderer of our intentions.”
Carbon copy . . . thought Grimes indignantly. But, original or not, this was not his ship. He—or his own version of himself—was not giving the orders. He could only suggest and be thankful that this other Grimes did not seem to be as pigheaded as he, more than once, had been accused of being.
Briefly the Mannschenn Drive was shut down, and the big, directional gyroscopes rumbled, hummed and then whined as the ship turned about her short axis. Directly ahead—overhead from the viewport of those in Control—the dim, misty Galactic Lens swam into view and was almost immediately distorted beyond recognition as the interstellar drive was restarted. The irregular throbbing beat of the inertial drive made itself felt, and there was gravity again, and weight, and up and down.
“Now we’re getting someplace,” murmured Flandry a little smugly.
Grimes glared at him and was even more annoyed when he saw that Sonya was looking at the imperial captain with what could have been admiration.
Gateway to Never (John Grimes) Page 21
