It had been furnished economically but impeccably, the walls decorated with a series of small, ancient‑looking iron artifacts, the clunky, standard‑issue Earth Command table and chairs replaced with a simpler and earthier‑looking version in a tawny, unfinished wood.
Interestingly, there weren’t any of the customarypersonal effects to be seen. Not a medal–though Hagedorn must have won lots of them. Not an exotic liquor bottle, a musical instrument, an alien statuette, or an unusual mineral specimen. Not a hat, a globe, or a 3‑D chessboard.
Not even a picture of a loved one.
Shumar found the place a little off‑putting in its spartan outlook, in its minimalism. However, it looked considerably bigger than Shumar’s own anteroom. So much so, in fact, that he didn’t feel cramped sharing the space with his five colleagues.
Then it occurred to Shumar that only fourof his colleagues were present. Matsura was conspicuous by his absence.
“Come on in,” said Hagedorn, his manner cordial if a bit too crisp for Shumar’s taste. “Can I get you anything?”
Shumar noticed that neither Hagedorn nor Stiles had a drink in his hand. “Nothing, thanks. Where’s Captain Matsura?”
Stiles frowned. “He’ll be a few minutes late. He wanted to check out the Oreias Seven colony himself.”
“Didn’t he do that already?” asked Shumar.
“Apparently not,” Hagedorn replied, obviously unperturbed by his colleague’s oversight.
“You forget,” said Stiles, “some of us aren’t scientists.”
Shumar hadn’t forgotten. He just couldn’t believe his fellow captains hadn’t seen a value in examining the colonies firsthand.
“Why don’t we get down to business?” asked Dane. “We can bring Matsura up to speed when he gets here.”
Shumar had never heard Dane take such a purposeful tack before. Was this the same man who had lingered over his tequila while everyone around him was scrambling to fight the Romulans?
It seemed Connor Dane was fullof surprises today.
Stiles glanced at Hagedorn. “I agree. It’s not as if we don’t know where Matsura will come down in this matter.”
Hagedorn must have been reasonably sure of Matsura as well because he went ahead with the meeting. “All right, then,” he said. “We’re all aware of the facts. We’ve scanned all four colonies in this system, including the two the aliens have already attacked, and we haven’t discovered anything to explain their aggressive behavior.”
“Fortunately, we’ve shown we can track them down,” said Stiles, picking up where his comrade left off. “But we can’t match their firepower or their maneuverability unless we come at them with everything we’ve got.”
“Even with the Yellowjacketdamaged,” Hagedorn noted, “we’ve still got five battleworthy ships left. I propose we deploy them as a group in order to find the aliens and defuse the threat.”
“It’s the only viable course of action open to us,” Stiles maintained. “Anything less and we’ll be lucky to fight them to a draw again.”
Silence reigned in the room as they considered the man’s advice. Then Hagedorn said, “What do the rest of you think?”
In other words, thought Shumar, you three butterfly catchers.
Cobaryn was the first to speak up. “I agree with Captain Stiles’s assessment,” he responded.
Shumar was surprised at how easily his friend had been swayed. It must have shown on his face because the Rigelian turned to him with a hint of an apology in his eyes.
“Believe me,” said Cobaryn, “I wish we could have come up with another solution to the problem. However, I do not see one presenting itself, and the colonists are depending on us to protect them.”
It was hard to argue with such logic. Even Shumar had to admit that.
Dane was frowning deeply, looking uncharacteristically thoughtful.
“You seem hesitant,” Stiles observed, an undercurrent of mockery in his voice. “I hope you’re not thinking of hanging back while the rest of us go into battle.”
Obviously, thought Shumar, some bone of contention existed between Stiles and Dane. In fact, now that Shumar had occasion to think about it, he was reminded of an exchange of remarks between the two at the captains’ first briefing back on Earth.
In response to Stiles’s taunt, the Cochrane jockey smiled jauntily. “What?” he asked, his voice as sharp‑edged as the other man’s. “And let you have all the fun?”
Ever the cool head, Hagedorn interceded. “This is a serious situation, gentlemen. There’s no place at this meeting for personali‑ties.”
“You’re right,” said Stiles. “I was out of line.” But neither his expression nor his tone suggested repentance.
Hagedorn turned to Shumar. His demeanor was that of one reasonable man speaking to another.
“And you, Captain?” he asked.
As his colleagues looked on, Shumar mulled over the proposition before him. Part of him was tempted to do what Cobaryn was doing, if only for the sake of the colonists’ continued well‑being.
Then there was the other part of him.
Shumar shook his head. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to break with the party line. I’ll be beaming down to Oreias Seven in order to continue my investigation.”
“Are you sure you want to do that?” asked Hagedorn.
Shumar nodded. “Quite sure.”
“What about your ship?” Stiles inquired.
Shumar understood the question. Stiles wanted the Peregrineto go with the rest of the fleet to increase their chances of a victory. What’s more, Shumar didn’t blame him.
“My ship will go with you,” he assured Stiles.
“Under whose command?” Stiles pressed.
“That of my first officer, Stephen Mullen. From what I’ve seen of him, he’s more than qualified to command the Peregrine.Infact, considering all the military experience he’s got under his belt, you’ll probably feel more comfortable with himthan you do with me.”
But that didn’t seem to be good enough for Stiles, who shot a glance at Hagedorn. “As it happens,” he argued, “we’ve got an experienced commanding officer without a viable vessel. Why not put Captain Matsura in the center seat of the Peregrine?”
Shumar didn’t like the idea. After all, Mullen had demonstrated an ability to work smoothly with the Peregrine’screw. Besides, he wasn’t going to let Stiles or anyone else decide whom to put in charge of his vessel.
But before he could say anything, the doors to Hagedorn’s anteroom slid aside again and Matsura joined them, his forehead slick with perspiration. “Sorry I’m late,” he said.
“It’s all right,” Stiles assured him. In a matter of moments, he brought his Earth Command comrade up to date. “So, since Captain Shumar has decided to stay here, we’re talking about putting you in command of his ship.”
“Which isn’t going to happen,” Shumar interjected matter‑of‑factly. “Captain Stiles may have missed it, but I’ve already decided who’s going to command the Peregrine.”
Stiles’s look turned disparaging. “With all due respect, Captain–”
Matsura held up his hand, stopping Stiles in mid‑objection. “There’s no need to argue about it,” he said. “As it happens, I’d prefer to stay here with Captain Shumar.”
Stiles looked at Matsura as if he were crazy. “What the devil for?”
Shumar wanted to know the answer to that question himself.
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A Stitch in Time stdsn-27 Page 35
