by F. M. Busby
"Yes."
"Sure, captain."
"All right." He landed midway and to one side of the path between the two ships, where crates were being moved from Lefthand Thread to Carcharodon. "Tari, you come with me. We're starting the fourth turret; I want you to mark the cuts for the torch men-in the existing structure and on the girders to be installed. Then spot the holes for the new bulkheads and the projector mounting itself. I'll check you first time 'round -after that, you'll be checking the work."
She nodded. "Yes, I can do those things. I will need the drawings, though-I do not remember all of it yet."
"Hell, yes, you'll use drawings! I wouldn't try it from memory myself, and I drew the damn things!" She touched his hand. "Bran-perhaps I do not joke enough..."
He looked at her, then grinned. "All right-you got me. Well, let's get to it." They entered Carcharodon and climbed upship. Kenekke left them to join three men sorting out piles of components in a storage area. As they passed the control room, Vanois and Limmer stopped arguing over a circuit diagram long enough to give them brief greetings.
Then they neared the top of the ship and Rissa could see the magnitude of the work-some nearly completed and some only begun. She saw that structural members had been cut away and replaced to fit around turret and missile positions without weakening the ship. "Tregare-seeing this in three di-mensions-it gives me a feel for the work, that the drawings could not."
"I know; it's the same with me. Well, this is where we start on Turret Four, and here's your chalk and measuring tape. This end sticks where you put it-" He demonstrated. "-unless you twist it or flick it, like this. So one person can do all of it."
"Yes. I knew of these, but had not used one before." She stood, looking at the sections to be removed.
"Lacking a place to anchor a power hoist, we must move everything by hand?" He nodded. "Then there must be more cuts-no need to measure them precisely-to divide the girders into manageable weights."
"Almost right. More cuts, yes. But we reuse as much as we can, so you cut the right sizes to fit the new structure."
"Of course. Well-in that case-" She looked at a drawing, then to Tregare, catching him in a half-smile.
"Your design uses that junction of four girders, unchanged-merely cut free and inverted, then rotated a quarter turn?" He nodded, and she climbed onto a protruding beam to take a measurement. "Then I shall begin here, mark to remove the junction, then work from there toward the perimeter cuts. Do you agree?"
"That's about the way I've been doing it."
"Al right." She began work-measuring, marking, climb-ing from point to point. As the morning progressed, the air grew hotter; when she paused to check a drawing, she was sweating freely. "No," she said, "that is wrong. I can lessen the waste by taking the longer segment here and using this for three shorter ones." Taking Tregare's silence for assent, she rubbed away a few chalk marks and measured anew.
She had lost track of time when Tregare said, "Everybody else is stopping for coffee and what al. You want to?" With the back of her hand she wiped her forehead. "Yes, I would enjoy that." As she followed him downship she noticed her muscles had grown tense; she shrugged and moved her neck, relaxing. "That is harder work than I would have thought." Half-turning as they entered the galley, he said, "It is when someone concentrates on it as hard as you do." Side by side at the end of a long table they found two seats. Rissa sat and Tregare brought coffee. She did not know the man and woman who sat facing them. The woman-dark, scar-cheeked, hair hidden under a bandanna, spoke harsh-toned.
"You're Tregare's new wife?"
"I did not know he had an old one. But yes, we are mar-ried."
The woman laughed. "Didn't mean it that way, but that's al right-you caught me out. I'm Corane Flerot, Second Hat here on Carcharodon. I don't marry anymore, but I wish you luck. You look like you've been working. What at?" Rissa explained and Corane Flerot nodded. "That's a help. I'm no good at that kind of thing, myself. Navigation, yes-but not building from drawings." She paused, then said, "You going to space with him?"
Tregare answered. "Yes. Probably as a turret operator."
Fingers clawed, the woman's hand darted at Rissa's face. By reflex, Rissa caught the wrist and thrust it aside; she stopped her countermove when she realized the other made no further effort. Puzzled, she saw Flerot smile, as she said, "Good-you've got the reflexes for it, all right."
Rissa released her grip. "That was not, perhaps, the safest way to find out."
"Maybe not-quick, though." Flerot touched her scarred cheek. "Does this look as though I always do things the safe way?"
Tregare showed the small knife his right hand held. "Usually not as dangerous as this was, Corane. You're alive this instant because I knew my wife is faster than you are." He put the knife away. "Well, nothing shaken. More coffee, Tan?"
"Yes-a little, please." Tregare rose, but now the man across from him-tal, thin, with a lined face-stood also.
"You don't know me, Tregare, except a name on a roster-Bartol Hannaway. But Corane and I are freemated. If you killed her, then captain or no captain, it's your death or mine."
Tregare's hand on Rissa's shoulder kept her from speech. He said, "You making some kind of challenge, Hannaway?"
"No. Just stating a fact, so you'll know."
"All right, I've heard it. Now here's one for you-you'll live longer-both of you-if you don't play stupid games with people who have work to do."
"Tregare!" said Rissa. "All of you-this goes too far-I am not angry, nor was I hurt. Once I saw it was a test, only, the danger was past."
Corane shrugged. "My fault-I'm sorry. Now calm it, Bar-tol."
The man muttered an apology and left the table; the woman followed. Rissa stood and said, "I do not want more coffee after all. Shall we return to our work?"
"All right. Let's go." They climbed again to the turret site, and she continued measuring and marking, occasionally changing her mind and revising the way the cuts would be made. When she finished, she turned to him and waited.
"Is it satisfactory?"
"Yes. A little different, in places, from how I've done it-but looks like a standoff for minimizing waste. You want to mark your intermediate cuts on the drawing now, and com-pare?" She had scribbled figures on the girders themselves, so she did not have to remeasure to mark the print. Then they looked at it alongside a copy he had marked.
"It's about even, all right. Some places you save more material or muscle, some places I do. Might's wel do it your way, for the other four turrets."
"Al right. And now, with the measurements determined, it wil go faster."
"Yes. Don't forget, though-the odd numbers are left-handed with respect to this one, so one accessway can serve a pair. That's what somebody forgot on the one yesterday."
"I will remember. After lunch I will begin on Turret Five."
"Why not do Six and Eight first? They're the same as this one. Then you can transcribe your figures onto the inverted drawing for Five and Seven."
She nodded. "Yes, that is reasonable-for I shall have to change my orientation only once."
"Good. Hey, it's nearly lunch time-let's knock off and go to the galley."
Rissa shook her head. "Let us eat alone, you and I. Here, or in theaircar."
He looked at her. "Flerot and Hannaway-they bothered you?"
"She did not. Nor you-but then you and he-Bran, will you be able to trust that man?"
" I don't have to deal with him-he's Vanois' problem, and Raoul wouldn't have him around if he made any real trouble. Unless he insists on it, he has none with me." He shrugged. "But al right-let's go downship. You go ahead to the aircar and I'l bring our lunches there." They descended; he stopped at the galley level and she con-tinued down and out of the ship. Outside the sun's heat felt pleasant, and the air was clear. She climbed into the aircar and waited; soon Tregare brought their trays and they ate. in the afternoon Rissa set to work on the other two even-numbered turrets. Tregare checked he
r markings on Six, then left for other duties; on Eight she worked alone. When she was done she returned to her morning's location and found the torch crew cutting to her markings. Removals were complete and reconstruction had begun. For a while she watched, but did not interrupt the work. After a time a tall man pushed back his welding mask and said to her, "You marked this one for us, didn't you?"
"Yes, I did."
"Good job-everything fits. A litle different from Tregare's layout, but works just as well." He rubbed his thumb knuckles into his eyes. "Gets to you, watching a weld too long. A break helps." Then, "Tregare realy married you, did he? That's what we heard."
"Yes. Nearly a month ago, in a dueling arena near One Point One. Had you heard that, also?" His harsh bark, she realized, was meant to be a laugh. "No, they didn't tell us that. It's true?"
"Yes. I had just fought a man, unarmed and naked, and killed him. I was bloody and I stank. My face looked as though it had been stepped on-which it very nearly had been. That is how we were married." After a moment, the man nodded. "I believe it." With one finger he touched her arm. "Back on Earth, in the Slaughter-house, I knew Tregare. When he was little-too young to take the hell UET put us through. Used to hear him cry at night, the first weeks. Daytimes, though, you'd never know it-cross him then, he'd spit in your eye just for starters." He nodded. "I knew then-if he lived-he'd be a man to lead something. And now I guess he's ready for it."
His look was expectant; she said, "And when he is ready to tel of it, he wil do that, also.'
His hand made a vague salute. "Sure-I know. Well, tell him John Kragen's with him, no mater what or where." She smiled. "I wil, surely." He pushed the mask down and turned back to his work; his torch flared and she had to look away. A quick glance showed her the rest of the work was going wel, so she left and went downship to the control room. There she found Corane Flerot on duty alone. Rissa paused, in doubt whether she should enter, but the woman said, "I talked to Bartol. He didn't mean anything, except standing up for me the same as Tregare for you. He had to-you see? But he's not the man to hold grudges. Wil Tregare see that?"
Rissa looked at her. Her head was uncovered now; grizzled hair, short and uncombed, stood out in crinkled masses. Her scarred face was totally serious. Rissa said, "To Tregare, the matter is done."
"I'm glad. Bartol's courage shouldn't be wasted against his own leader."
Rissa thought, then said, "And what of your own part? To threaten-not me of myself, but Bran Tregare's wife? If Bar-tol had died..."
"Yes. My fault, it would've been. Ms. Tregare--"
"Ms. Obrigo."
"All right. Maybe I get more reckless as I get older and uglier-which takes some doing-I got most of these scars from UET. But I'll watch it from now on. Is that what you meant?"
Rissa nodded. "But I am not angry with you, Corane-only concerned for you."
The woman smiled. "Want to try a little unarmed combat sometime? Practice rules, I mean-nothing lethal or maim-ing."
"If you wish. But why?''
"Maybe to show Tregare you're not all that much faster."
"She's fast enough." It was Tregare; Rissa turned to face him.
"We are speaking in friendship. It is all right."
He smiled. "That's good. Corane, I'm not knifing for Bar-tol; tell him that."
"I will. He didn't really want trouble either, you know."
"Sure. We're all on a tight string these days. Once we finish this ship, we can take a rest before Peralta gets here." He put a hand on Rissa's shoulder. "If we're done for today, let's go home. Kenekke's ready."
"Yes. Corane, I am glad we talked, and that all is well be-tween us."
when the aircar was up and Tregare's course set, Rissa relayed the welder's greetings. Tregare nodded. "Kragen, eh? I thought he looked familiar, but I couldn't place him and he didn't say anything. He was finishing at the Academy when I was first sent there-didn't make officer rank, I guess. Quiet fellow-never threw his weight around like some did."
"He remembers you also. Even as a child you impressed him as one who would someday lead."
"Lead?" He shrugged. "We all do what comes to us, I think."
"Of course, Bran. I have noticed how very passive you are."
He laughed and patted her knee. "One for you." Then they did not talk until he landed by the cabin. "I'l check with Hain for messages and be right back."
"All right. By that time I shall be steaming and sodden in the tub."
Inside the cabin she saw in a mirror that her face was soot-streaked. Her hair was dusted with it also; the welding and cutting left a deposit on every uncovered surface. She un-dressed while the tub filed, removed the clasp from her hair and shook it free, and slid gratefully into the hot water.
She was kneading lather into hair and scalp, eyes shut against the stinging liquid that trickled down her forehead, when she heard the door open and close. Tregare's voice rose. "News, Rissa! Peralta's No Return-it's a lot closer than we thought-practically here, in fact. His signals are weak because his transmitter's output stage blew, and no spares. But he'll land at One Point One tomorrow or the next day, then move here as soon as he can." She was fumbling for a towel and not finding it. He laughed and handed one to her, and she wiped her eyes free of soap. "Wil we go to the port again, as with Limmer?"
"I don't see the need; Peralta's dealt here before, and I gave him instructions." He started to turn away. "I'll put some-thing on the stove. Any preference?"
She laughed. "Hot and plentiful will suffice." She stood, and rinsed hair and body under the shower while the tub drained. She dried herself quickly, wrapped her damp hair in a towel, put on a robe, and joined Tregare in the kitchen.
"Coffee's ready," he said, "or wine. Take your choice."
"Both," she said, and served herself before she sat. "Bran?"
He looked up from the stew he was stirring. "Yeah?"
"Tonight I will mark the lefthanded drawing, for turrets Five and Seven. But tomorrow I wil finish that work by noon. Aside from checking the crews' progress, what is there for me to do?"
"Well, let's see-I'll be giving the missile and antimissile berths a last lookover, before the sheet-metal work seals off the structural members. You might hang in with me, check the drawings against the finished job, so you can mark cuts for those on other ships. Which reminds me-"
He went to the main room and rummaged in his desk. "No
-they're not here." He came back and served up the stew
-along with bread, cheese, and some fruit-and sat to eat.
She tasted a bite and found it too hot, blew on it and sam-pled it again. "This is very good. But- what isn't here?"
"Drawings for ships of No Return's class-the nose sec-tion's all different. I may have prints on the scoutship-if I didn't forget, and leave 'em on Inconnu. If I did, we'll wait until Peralta gets here and draw our own."
"Or we could join him earlier, at the port."
He shook his head. "No use to that. You can't see what you need to until we pul some plates off-and we won't do that until the ship's at Base Two."
"I see." She ate in silence; when she was done, she poured more wine and coffee for both. She cleared her side of the table and spread the two complementary drawings across it. "I wil mark this now, and you can check it for me."
"All right." Glancing up, she saw that he watched her.
After the first few markings, she caught the knack of transposing from one drawing to its mirror image, and the chore was done sooner than she had expected. She stood. "There, Bran. Is it correct?" He turned the sheets to face him and she saw how he com-pared them-one index finger to each, moving simultaneously as he glanced from one to the other. Her forty minutes of work were inspected in hardly more than five. He nodded. "No mistakes." Then; "I need a shower."
"Very well. I will finish drying my hair now." When she had done so and brushed it, she took off her robe and got into bed. When Tregare came out of the bathroom she threw the covers back, and wai
ted.
"That's where I was hoping you'd be," he said, and went to her. He was in no hurry, nor was she; laughter and dalliance persisted for some time before they joined. Afterward he said, "Every time's different, isn't it?"
"Yes." Her fingers moved along his back, brushing a welted scar. "Sometimes it is difficult to wait until the next." He laughed. "This particular wait doesn't have to be so long. About like last night. Al right?"
" Oh, yes-I can manage that quite nicely."
next morning on Carcharodon, Rissa laid out the two re-maining turret sites. For part of the afternoon she stayed with Tregare, studying missile berth arrangements-then inspected the work in progress on the turrets she had marked the day before. She found two minor errors, but none of consequence; the corrections took only a short time.
Back at Base One, Tregare searched the scoutship and found drawings applicable to No Return. After dinner they spread these on the table and began planning modifications.
"The main difference in the No Return class," Tregare said, "is that instead of sixteen main longitudinal beams they used twelve heavier ones for the same size hul. The gaps are wider, but not quite wide enough to put two turrets in one of them. So instead of eight projectors, four missiles, and four countermissiles, it'l have to be six, three, and three. You see it?" She checked a measurement, then said, "The missiles, yes. But our projectors-Bran, I am not a structural engineer-but see here? At the nose, where al twelve beams join. Must it be that way?"
"It's overdesigned, sure. But what-?"
"Here, just below the turret sites-why did they not add another girder ring and omit every second beam from there to the tip? In that case we could squeeze in extra turrets."
He looked more closely. "Hey! I'll have to run the stress factors through the computer, to be sure of it-but I think you've given Peralta some extra firepower!"
He took the drawing to the scoutship; a half hour later he returned. "Well, it works! Want to start figuring the changes?"
"I have already begun." She continued, calculating how best to convert the removed beam segments into a ring-shaped member-and at what point-with least wastage. Then she began adding and rearranging the necessary runs of power and control cables. She was not concerned with the circuitry itself, but only with physical access. When she finished the proposal, Tregare looked through her notes and sketches. He suggested two minor changes and approved the rest.
