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Hat. I expect we'll all work together just fine."
"Yes. Thanks." Two low-voiced words, then nothing more.
Well, there were worse habits than not being gabby. Bran turned back to the
other two. "A
meeting, you said?"
"Yes," the captain said. "Let's sit down." That done, he went on. "Question of
where we go next.
Cleet thinks we should go on in to Terranova, per sked, bluff it out and get
refueled on the strength of our original mission documents. Fake the log from
about two jumps back, to leave
Rigueres off and promote everybody. What do you think?"
It took no thinking. "We don't have a chance in hell, getting away with that.
And the Uties we have, locked up-we'd need to space the lot. I-"
"No such thing," Farnsworth put in. "Stick 'em in freeze, listed as
high-priority passengers for
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Freeze. Tregare knew, when he stopped to think, that the had freeze chambers.
The \iMacArthurhad\i none, because
154
\b155\b
Korbeith in his independent way had had them removed. But .Bran had seen the
\iTamurlaine's\i during his first hurried tour of the ship; he'd forgotten
about them, was all. But how many were there? He frowned. "Twelve of those, we
have; right? And twenty prisoners."
"Which is too many," Farnsworth said. "I keep telling you-" He spoke now to
Monteffial. "-nearly half of those, now they've had time to think, are safe to
let loose and put to work. Then we wouldn't be so bloody shorthanded, and-"
"And on Terranova," Bran cut in, "they'd all go on ground-side leave and keep
their little mouths shut. \iSure\i they would." He shook his head. "I can't go
with any of that. Captain, what's \iyour\i idea?"
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Monteffial cleared his throat. "Well it also has its risks. But different
ones. I haven't told anyone before, but I have what purports to be a coded set
of coordinates for five Hidden Worlds.
To reach one of these would require only a thirty-degree course change, which
I believe is within the limits of our fuel reserves. So-"
Thirty degrees. Let's see: pi-over-six radians. Plug in the sines and cosines;
yes. A right-
angle change took as much energy as slowing to zerch and coming back up to
speed, like a planetary stopover. But a lesser turn-decel would be
one-minus-the-cosine of the angle, and accel factor would be the sine.
Pi-over-six; okay: decel, dot-one-three-four. Accel a flat point-five. A
little over five-eights then, total, of stopover fuel need. Discounting
gravity, because the Drive field fed it back, mostly. Tregare blanked his
hand-calc.
He said the numbers. "Leon-do we \ihave\i that much extra?"
"And enough more to let us sleep easy."
"Then do we vote on this, or what?"
Monteffial said, "I suppose so. I vote for the Hidden World:"
"Terranova," said Cleet Farnsworth.
Bran laughed. "I'll take thirty degrees and out!"
Gonnelson, as they all looked at him, kept them waiting. Having been granted a
vote, he could lock it all up now, if he chose, in stalemate. Finally the
serious face tilted to face the others.
"Not Terranova," he said.
Monteffial whooped, then said, "A drink on that. Bran, you have time for a
short one, not enough to muddle you for watch!" He poured neat spirits; the
four clinked glasses and drank.
Farnsworth, though, looked as though his drink was sour.
155
What with one thing and another, including Monteffial's change of course to
the Hidden World, it was two more ship's days before Tregare found himself
with enough free time to do the outside work, replacing the antenna array.
First, of course, he tried fiddling with the gear from Control, hoping that
the "glitch was merely an adjustment problem. \iAlways try the easy answers
first.\i
No luck, though; the problem was definitely outside. So he called down to
rating-First Groden and made sure the parts and tools were ready to go. Then
he gave a little thought to the logistics of outside work, and went looking
for Hain Deverel.
He found him just leaving the galley. "Deverel? You got a minute?"
"Yes, sir. Can I help you?"
At Tregare's gesture, the shorter man accompanied him along the corridor. ". .
. outside, see, in the power suit. And I need somebody dependable to cover for
me at the main air lock. Maybe an hour, not more, is my guess. Would it be
convenient for you, now?"
"No problems at all, sir. And I'm glad it's me you asked."
Gently, Bran tapped the man's shoulder. "So am I."
With less whinging and creebing than Tregare expected, "Gripin' Groden" issued
the necessary equipment. Carrying the stuff out of Stores and along a passage
to the stairway landing, Tregare and Deverel found it a full load. They left
it, to go up a deck, where Bran was able to instruct the other man how to help
with the power suit. He checked the thing out; all systems seemed to be
working well, except for one gyro that was a little slow at engaging and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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