First Command

by A Bertram Chandler

  She told him, “One by a man called Blenkinshop on first aid. And one about the fisheries on a world called Atlantia. We are having copies made for the library.”

  “So you have a printing press?”

  “Yes, Commander Grimes. It is used only when a book is almost worn out or when there is something new that has to be printed.”

  “Is it hand operated?”

  “No. We have an engine, driven by steam. Shall I show it to you now, or would you rather see the Lode Cougar room?”

  “The Lode Cougar room,” Grimes told her.

  This adjoined the Earth Room, but was not as large. It contained relics of the ship herself. There were cargo manifests, log books, crew and passenger lists. There was a large photograph of the Cougar’s officers taken at Port Woomera, presumably shortly prior to lift-off. It was typical of this sort of portraiture, whatever the day and age. The captain, his senior officers on either side of him, was seated in the front row, his arms folded across his chest (as were the arms of the others) to show the braid on his sleeves. Standing behind the row of seated seniors were the juniors. Grimes stopped to read the legend below the photograph.

  The captain’s name was not, as he had expected that it would be, Morrow. (But in an emergency, such as a forced landing on an unexplored world, anybody at all is liable to come to the fore.) The name of Morrow was not among those of the officers. A passenger, then? Examination of the ship’s passenger list would supply the answer.

  Lisa was pointing to a shelf of volumes. “And these,” she was saying, “were Morrow’s own books . . . .”

  Grimes paused on his way to the display cases in which the ship’s documents were housed. Books told one so much about their owner’s makeup. His eye swept over the fiction titles. He realized, with pleased surprise, that he had read most of them, when he was a cadet at the Academy. Early Twentieth Century—and even late Nineteenth Century—science fiction aboard a starship! But it was no more absurd than to find the same science fiction required reading for future officers of a navy whose ships, even though they had yet to penetrate to The Hub, fared out to The Rim. The Planet Buyer . . . that had been good, as he remembered it. The Island Of . . .

  His wrist transceiver was buzzing. He raised the instrument to his mouth. “Captain!” Saul’s voice was urgent. “Captain, I would have called you before, but we’ve been having transmitter trouble. Drongo Kane left in his pinnace at first light this morning, heading north. He’s got Sabrina with him and three of his own people, all armed.”

  “You heard that?” Grimes demanded of his officers.

  They nodded.

  “Thank you for your attention,” Grimes said to Lisa, “but we must get back to our pinnace.”

  “Is Drongo Kane a friend of yours, that you are so eager to greet him?” she asked innocently, and looked bewildered when Grimes replied, “That’d be the sunny Friday!”

  18

  Grimes paused briefly in the room where Janine was still gossiping with Maya. As he entered he heard Maya ask, “And how do you deal with the problem of the uncontrollable adolescent?”

  He said, “Excuse me, ladies. I’ve just received word that Drongo Kane is on his way here . . . .”

  “Drongo Kane?” asked Janine, arching her silver brows.

  “The captain of a ship called the Southerly Buster,” Maya told her. “A most generous man.”

  “Goodie goodie,” exclaimed her sister queen. She looked rather pointedly at Danzellan’s gleaming clock on the wall, then at Grimes’s watch that was strapped around her slim, brown wrist.

  “Perhaps he’ll give you an egg timer . . .” suggested Maggie Lazenby.

  “What is that?” asked Janine.

  “It’s not important,” said Grimes impatiently. “Excuse us, please.”

  He led the way out of the palace, to where his pinnace was grounded in the middle of the plaza, looking like a huge, stranded silver fish. He looked up at the clear sky. Yes—there, far to the southward, was a tiny speck, a dark dot against the blueness that expanded as he watched. Then he was aware that the two queens had followed him outside.

  “Is that Drongo Kane?” asked Janine.

  “I think it is,” he replied.

  “Then I must prepare a proper reception,” she said and walked rapidly back to her palace. Maya stayed with Grimes.

  She said, “Janine prides herself on doing things properly.”

  “If she were doing things properly,” Grimes told her, “she would have a battery of ground to air missiles standing by.”

  “You must be joking!” she exclaimed, shocked.

  “Have our own armament in readiness, sir?” asked the navigator.

  “Mphm. I was joking, Mr. Pitcher. But it will do no harm to have the twenty millimeters cocked and ready.”

  Two women were building another fire in the brazier that had served Grimes for a beacon. One of them produced a large box of oversized matches from the pouch that she wore slung from her shoulder, lit the kindling. Almost immediately the column of gray smoke was climbing skyward.

  Kane’s pinnace was audible now as well as visible, the irregular beat of its inertial drive competing with the more rhythmic efforts of Janine’s drummers, warming up behind the palace. It was coming in fast, and it seemed that it would overshoot the plaza. But Kane—presumably it was he at the controls—brought the craft to a spectacular, shuddering halt when it was almost directly over Seeker’s pinnace, applying maximum reverse thrust. That would not, thought Grimes disapprovingly, do his engines any good—but he, himself, had often been guilty of similar showmanship.

  Oddly enough no crowd had gathered—but no crowd had gathered to greet Grimes. There were only a few deliberately uninterested bystanders, and they were mainly children. On no other world had Grimes seen such a fanatical respect for privacy.

  Drongo Kane was dropping down now—not fast, yet not with extreme caution. His vertical thrust made odd patterns in the dust as the pinnace descended, not unlike those made in an accumulation of iron filings by a magnetic field. When there was little more than the thickness of a coat of paint between his landing gear and the ground he checked his descent, then cut his drive.

  The door in the side of the pinnace opened. Drongo Kane stood in the opening. He was rigged up in a uniform that was like the full dress of the Survey Service—with improvements. An elaborate gold cockade ornamented his cocked hat, and his sword belt was golden, as was the scabbard. A score of decorations blazed over the left breast of his frock coat. Grimes thought he recognized the Iron Cross of Waldegren, the Golden Wings of the Hallichek Hegemony. Anybody who was highly regarded by those two governments would be persona non grata in decent society.

  Kane jumped lightly to the ground, seemingly unhampered by his finery. He extended a hand to help Sabrina from the pinnace. Jewels glittered on her smooth, golden skin, and a coronet ablaze with emeralds was set on her head. She was inclined to teeter a little in her unaccustomed, high-heeled sandals.

  “Cor stone me Aunt Fanny up a gum tree!” whispered Maggie.

  “Captain Kane is generous,” murmured Maya.

  “Mphm,” grunted Grimes.

  Inside the pinnace two of Kane’s officers—and they were dressed only in their drab working uniforms—were setting up some sort of machine, an affair of polished brass, just within the doorway. Grimes stared at it in amazement and horror.

  “Captain Kane,” he shouted, “I forbid you to terrorize these people!”

  Kane grinned cheerfully. “Keep your hair on, Commander! Nobody’s goin’ to terrorize anybody. Don’t you recognize a salutin’ cannon when you see one? Sabrina, here, has told me that this Queen Janine is a stickler for etiquette. . . “ Then his eyes widened as, to the rattle of drums, the procession emerged from around the corner of the palace. He licked his lips as he stared at the high-stepping girl with the Lode Cougar flag—that sash and those boots—especially the boots—did something for her. He muttered to himself, “And you can s
ay that again!”

  With a last ruffle of drums Janine and her entourage came to a halt. Kane drew himself to attention and saluted grandly. “Fire one!” snapped somebody inside the pinnace. The brass cannon boomed, making a noise disproportionate to its size. “Fire two!” Again there was the gout of orange flame, the billowing of dirty white smoke. “Fire three!”

  At first it looked as though the spearmen, archers and riflemen would either turn and run—or loose their weapons off against the spacemen—but Janine snapped a sharp order and, drawing herself up proudly, stood her ground.

  “Fire four!” Boom!

  “Fire five!”

  Janine was enjoying the show. So was Kane. Sabrina, at his side, winced every time the gun was fired, but tried to look as though this sort of thing was an everyday occurrence. Maya whispered urgently to Grimes, “This noise . . . can’t you make him stop it?”

  “Fire nine!” Boom!

  “Fire ten!”

  Janine’s bodyguards had recovered their composure now and were standing at stiff attention, and there was a certain envy evident in the expressions on the faces of the drummer girls—but the standard bearer spoiled the effect when the drifting fumes of the burning black powder sent her into a fit of sneezing.

  “Fire sixteen!” Boom!

  Surely not, thought Grimes dazedly. Surely not. A twenty-one gun salute for somebody who, even though she is called a queen, is no more than the mayor of a small town . . . .

  “Fire twenty!” Boom!

  “Fire twenty-one!” Boom!

  “A lesson,” remarked Maggie, “on how to win friends and influence people . . . .”

  “He certainly influenced me!” said Grimes.

  Kane, accompanied by Sabrina, marched to where Janine was standing. He saluted again. Janine nodded to him regally. The standard bearer, recovered from her sneezing fit, dipped her flag toward him. The spearmen and riflemen presented arms. Grimes watched all this a little enviously. He was sorry that Maya had not briefed him regarding Janine’s love of the ceremonial, as obviously Sabrina had briefed Kane. But it could be that Kane knew Sabrina far better than he, Grimes, knew Maya. There are more things to do in a shared bed than talking—but talking in bed is quite a common practice . . . .

  “Shall I fire a burst from the twenty millimeters,” asked Pitcher wistfully, “just to show that we can make a noise too?”

  “No,” Grimes said sternly.

  “Sir,” called Billard, “here comes another pinnace!”

  Danzellan’s arrival on the scene was anticlimactic. When he came in to a landing the queen, together with Kane, Sabrina and two of Southerly Buster’s officers carrying a large chest of trade goods, had returned to her palace and was staying there.

  19

  Captain Danzellan was in a bad temper.

  He demanded, “Commander Grimes, why didn’t you tell me that Drongo Kane was on this planet? I learned it, only by chance, from Lilian after you had left Melbourne—and then my radio officer monitored the conversation you had with your first lieutenant. . . .”

  “To begin with,” said Grimes tartly, “you didn’t ask me. In any case, I gained the impression that you wanted nothing at all to do with me or my people.” He was warming up nicely. “Furthermore, sir, I must draw your attention to the fact that the monitoring of Survey Service signals is illegal, and that you are liable to a heavy fine, and that your radio officer may have his certificate dealt with.”

  Danzellan was not awed. “A space lawyer!” he sneered.

  “Yes, Captain. And a space policeman.”

  “Then why don’t you arrest Kane?”

  “What for?” asked Grimes. “He has broken no laws—Federation or local. I can neither arrest him nor order him off Morrowvia.”

  “Commander Grimes, I am paid to look after my owners’ interests. I cannot do so properly while this man Kane is running around loose, corrupting the natives. To be frank, if you were not here I should feel justified in taking the law into my hands. Since you are here—I appeal to you, as a citizen of the Federation, for protection.”

  “Captain Danzellan, Captain Kane is cooking up some sort of deal with the natives. He, like you, is a shipmaster. You represent your owners, Kane is an owner. You allege that he is corrupting the natives and imply that he is queering your pitch. Meanwhile, I am wondering if whatever sort of deal you are cooking up will corrupt the natives . . . .”

  “Of course not!” snorted Danzellan. “The Dog Star Line will always have their best interests at heart!”

  “And the best interests of the management and shareholders . . . ?” put in Maggie.

  Danzellan smiled in a fatherly way. “Naturally, Commander Lazenby. After all, we are businessmen.”

  “Mphm,” Grimes grunted. He said, “Kane is a businessman too.”

  “But I was here first, Commander Grimes.”

  “Lode Cougar was here first, Captain Danzellan. Get this straight, sir—unless or until either you or Captain Kane steps out of line I am merely here as an observer.”

  “Then may I suggest, sir, that you start doing some observing? That is what I intend to do. I am going to call on Janine, now, to see if I can find out what line of goods Kane is peddling.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Grimes told him. “Maggie, you’d better come too. And you, Maya, if you wouldn’t mind. Mr. Pitcher and Mr. Billard—stay by the pinnace.”

  The two men and the two women walked across the plaza to the main entrance of the palace. Four natives were standing in the doorway, spearmen of Janine’s ceremonial bodyguard. They held their weapons not threateningly but so as to bar ingress.

  “Let me pass!” huffed Danzellan.

  “The queen insists on privacy,” said one of the men.

  “But I know Janine. We are good friends.”

  “The queen said, sir, that she and Captain Kane and her other guests were not to be disturbed.”

  Grimes nodded to Maya. Possibly she would be admitted while the offworlders were not. The Morrowvian woman walked forward until her breasts were pressing against the haft of one of the spears. She said indignantly, “You know who I am. Let me in!”

  The spearman grinned. His teeth were sharp and very white. He said, “I am sorry, lady, but I cannot. Janine mentioned you especially.”

  “And what did she say?” demanded Maya.

  “Do you really want to know, lady?” The man was enjoying this.

  “Yes!”

  “She said, lady, ‘Don’t let Commander Grimes or any other foreigners in here while I am in conference. And the same applies to that cat from Cambridge.’”

  “Cat from Cambridge . . .” muttered Maya indignantly. “You can tell Janine that should she ever visit my town she will not be received hospitably.”

  “Well, Commander Grimes,” asked Danzellan, “what are you doing about this?”

  “What can I do?” countered Grimes irritably.

  “We can talk things over,” suggested Maggie Lazenby.

  “Talk, talk!” sneered Danzellan, “while that damned pirate is raping a planet!”

  “It’s all that we can do at the moment,” Grimes told him. “I suggest that we return to our pinnace. And I suggest that you, sir, do some talking.”

  “All right,” said the shipmaster at last.

  “The Dog Star Line’s interest in this world will bring nothing but good to the people,” stated Danzellan.

  “Mphm,” grunted Grimes skeptically.

  “But it is so, Commander. If we are allowed to run things our way the planet will remain virtually unspoiled. There will be no pollution of the air, the soil or the seas. Unless the Morrowvians so desire it—and I do not think they will—there will be no development of heavy industries. The small luxuries that we shall bring in will demand power, of course—but solar power will be ample for their requirements.”

  “It all sounds very nice,” admitted Grimes, “but what do your employers get out of it?”

  “Oh, the
y’ll make a profit—but not from the Morrowvians.”

  “From whom, then?”

  “From passengers. Tourists. As you know, we have been, for many years, primarily freight carriers—but there is no reason why we should not break into the passenger trade, the tourist trade specifically. Trans-Galactic Clippers have been doing very nicely at it for some years now. But TG has the game sewn up insofar as the worlds on their itinerary are concerned.

  “Now we, the Dog Star Line, have a new planet of our very own. We can build our own hotels and vacation camps, we can run cruises over the tropical seas in big schooners that we shall build and man—already recruiting for their crews is being opened on Atlantia.” He smiled sympathetically at Maya. “I’m afraid that’s necessary, my dear. Your people aren’t very sea-minded.”

  “And you think that this scheme will work?” asked Grimes, interested.

  “Why shouldn’t it work, Commander? The advertising need only be truthful. Think of the posters, the brochures with photographs of all the beautiful, naked women—and, come to that, of the equally beautiful naked men. Visit Morrowvia—and shed your clothing, your cares, your inhibitions! Why, it’ll have Arcadia licked to a frazzle!”

  Maggie looked very coldly at Captain Danzellan. She said, “Arcadia is not a holiday resort for the idle rich, nor does it wish to be one. Our naturism is a way of life, not an advertising gimmick.”

  “Are you an Arcadian, Commander Lazenby? But what you said about naturism being a way of life on Arcadia applies equally well to Morrowvia. And we, the Dog Star Line, will do nothing to destroy that way of life. I have studied history, and I know how very often a superior race, a supposedly superior race, has ruined a simple people by forcing upon them unnecessary and unsuitable clothing. We shall not make that mistake.”