7
This was not the occasion for full dress uniforms, with fore-and-aft hat, decorations, ceremonial sword and all the other trimmings. This was an occasion for comfortable shorts-and-shirt, with heavy boots and functional sidearms.
So attired, Grimes marched down Seeker’s ramp, followed by Captain Philby, the Marine officer, and a squad of his space soldiers. Maggie Lazenby and the other scientists had wished to accompany him, but he had issued strict orders that nobody excepting himself and the Marines was to leave the ship until such time as the situation had been clarified. And this clarification depended upon the local inhabitants as well as upon Drongo Kane. Meanwhile, Grimes had said, no foolish risks were to be taken.
As he marched toward the towering hulk of Southerly Buster he regretted his decision to land to the west of that ship; he had put himself at a disadvantage. The light of the still-low sun was blinding, making it difficult for his men and him to avoid the lavish scattering of quartzite boulders that protruded through the short, coarse grass. And it made it impossible to see if Drongo Kane had any weapons aimed at him and his party. Probably he had—but Seeker’s main armament was trained upon Kane’s ship and ready to blow her off the face of the planet at the slightest provocation.
It was a little better once he and the Marines were in the shadow of the other ship. Grimes’s eyes adjusted themselves and he stared upward at the blunt, metallic spire as he walked toward it. Defensively armed! he thought scornfully. Those two famous quick-firing cannon reported by the Bug Queen were merely an addition to what the Buster already had. Even so, in terms of laser and missiles, Seeker had the edge on her.
Southerly Buster’s ramp was down. At the foot of it an officer was standing, a skeletal figure attired in gray coveralls with shoulder-boards carrying first mate’s braid. The man was capless, and bald, and the wrinkled skin of his face was yellow, almost matching the long teeth that he showed when he smiled at the men from Seeker.
“Commander Grimes?” he asked in an overly ingratiating voice.
“Mr. Dreebly?” countered Grimes.
“Aloysius Dreebly, sir, at your service.”
And so this, thought Grimes, was Aloysius Dreebly. Small wonder that Myra Bracegirdle, Southerly Buster’s PCO, hated him. He matched his name—as people with ugly names so very often do. They, as it were, grow to fit the labels that misguided parents bestow upon them at birth. And this Dreebly, Grimes continued thinking, I wouldn’t trust him behind me. He’d either kiss my arse or stab me in the back—or both.
“And will you come aboard, Commander? Captain Kane is waiting for you.”
“Certainly, Mr. Dreebly. Lead the way, please.”
“Oh, sir, I’m afraid I cannot allow these other men aboard the ship . . . .”
“And I’m afraid that I can’t board unless I have an escort of my own people. Captain Philby!”
“Sir!”
The young Marine officer had his pistol out, pointing at Dreebly. His sergeant and the six privates held their rifles at the ready.
“But, sir . . . what are you thinking of? This is piracy!”
“Hardly, Mr. Dreebly. All the way from our ship to yours we were tracked by the muzzle of one of your quick-firers. Surely you will allow us to show our teeth.”
“Let the bastards aboard, Dreebly!” boomed Kane’s voice from a loudspeaker. “But put your guns away first, Commander. I don’t expect my guests to check in their pocket artillery at the door—but, on the other hand, I take a dim view if it’s waved in my face.”
At a word from Grimes Philby reholstered his pistol, the Marines slung their machine rifles. Dreebly shambled up the ramp to the after airlock, followed by the party from Seeker. Inside the compartment, Grimes looked about him curiously. He had been expecting something squalid—but, at first glance at least, this seemed to be a reasonably well-kept ship. There was a distinct absence of Survey Service spit-and-polish—but such is found only in vessels where there is a superfluity of ratings to do the spitting and polishing. There was shabbiness—but everything looked to be in excellent working order.
The elevator from the stern to the control room would accommodate only four men. Grimes decided to take Philby and one private with him, told the captain to tell his sergeant and the remaining Marines to stand guard in the airlock and at the foot of the ramp. (The Marines were apt to sulk if anybody but one of their own officers gave them a direct order.) Dreebly led the way into the cage and, as soon as the others were standing there with him, pressed a button.
She was quite a hunk of ship, this Southerly Buster, thought Grimes, as they slid rapidly upward, deck after deck. She had probably started life as an Interstellar Transport Commission’s Gamma Class cargo liner but, under successive ownership, had been modified and remodified many times. A vessel this size, even with a minimal crew, would be expensive to run. Whatever Kane’s activities were, they must show a profit.
The cage came to a gentle halt. “This way, please, gentlemen,” said Dreebly. He led the way into a short alleyway, to a door with a sign, captain, written above it. The door opened, admitting them into a spacious day cabin. Drongo Kane rose from an easy chair to greet them, but did not offer to shake hands.
He was as tall as his lanky bean pole of a mate, but there was a little more flesh on his bones. He moved with a decisive sort of grace, like an efficient hunting animal. He wasted no time on courtesies.
“Well, Commander Grimes?” he demanded.
“Captain Kane, I thought that we might combine forces . . . .”
“Did you, now? You’ve very kindly seen me down to the surface in one piece—not that I needed you—an’ now you can go and play soldiers off by yourself, somewhere.”
Grimes’s prominent ears flamed. He was aware that Captain Philby and the Marine were looking at him, were thinking, What’s the old man going to say (or do) now? Well, what was the old man (Grimes) going to say (or do) now?
He said, “I represent the Federation, Captain.”
“An’ this planet, Commander, is not a Federated World.”
“Yet,” said Grimes.
“If ever,” said Kane.
“I was sent here by the Federation . . .” Grimes began again.
“To claim this planet—possibly against the wishes of its people?”
“To conduct a survey.”
“Then conduct your survey. I’m not stoppin’ you.”
“But I’m responsible for your safety, and that of your ship, Captain. You’re a citizen of Austral, a Federated World, and your vessel’s port of registry is Port Southern, on that planet.”
“I don’t need any snotty nosed Space Scouts to see me across the road.”
“Maybe you don’t, Captain Kane—but you’re here, and I’m here, and I am obliged to carry out my duties to the best of my ability.”
“Cor stiffen the bleedin’ crows!” swore Kane disgustedly. Then, to somebody who had come in silently and was standing behind Grimes, “Yes, Myra?”
Grimes turned. So this was the Myra Bracegirdle of whom Hayakawa had talked. She was a tall girl, but thin rather than slender (this Southerly Buster must be a poor feeding ship), her face with its too prominent bones, too wide mouth and too big, dark eyes framed by silky blonde hair.
She said, “A word with you, Captain. Alone.”
“Oh, don’t worry about the Space Scouts, Myra. They’re here to look after us. We have no secrets from them.”
“They are on the way here, Captain. They saw the ships land. They have heard about spaceships, of course, but have never seen one . . . .”
And what about Corgi? Grimes asked himself. But she could have landed on the other side of the world from here.
He said, “Captain Kane, do you mind if I call my ship?”
“Go ahead, Commander. This is Liberty Hall; you can spit on the mat and call the cat a bastard.”
But as Grimes was raising his wrist transceiver to his mouth it buzzed sharply, then Saul’s voice issued from the little instrument. “First lieutenant here, Captain. Mr. Hayakawa reports that parties of natives are approaching the landing site from both villages.”
“I’ll be right back,” said Grimes.
“Don’t let me keep you,” said Kane. “Mr. Dreebly, please show these gentlemen off the premises.”
“Oh, Captain,” Grimes said, pausing in the doorway, “I shall take a very dim view if you act in a hostile manner toward the natives.”
“And what if they act in a hostile manner toward me?”
“That,” said Grimes, “will be different.”