Chapter 19 
Chapter 19
THE CONTROL TOWER was a shack on stilts and had little in the way of electronic equipment—just a normal space-time transceiver, a Carlotti transceiver and, logically enough for this planet, a seismograph. The duty Aero-Space Control officer was little more than a boy, and a badly frightened boy at that. He looked around with a start as Grimes and the Malemute’s third engineer burst in. He said, in a shaken voice, “Did you see that, sir? Did you see that?”
“Too right I saw it!” Grimes told him. “Stick a piece of paper in your typewriter and take this down. Ready? ‘I, John Grimes, Commodore, Rim Worlds Naval Reserve, Senior Officer of the Rim Worlds Navy on Eblis, hereby lodge a complaint, as follows.’ Got all that? ‘At 0600 hours this morning’—put the date in, will you?—‘the cruise liner Sobraon, under the pilotage of Captain Clavering, Port Captain, Inferno Valley, fouled the moorings of the Rim Worlds’ Naval Auxiliary Vessel Rim Malemute, as a result of which Rim Malemute sustained severe damage, the extent of which has yet to be determined. I, Commodore John Grimes, hold the Inferno Valley Port Authorities responsible for this accident.’ That’s all. Give it to me, and I’ll sign it. Take copies and let me have three.”
“But, sir, it was an accident. I saw it too. When Sobraon’s vane fouled Rim Malemute’s moorings, Captain Clavering had to keep on going. The ship was off-balance. If he’d tried to land there’d have been a shocking disaster.”
“I said it was an accident,” stated Grimes. “But that has no bearing at all on the question of legal liability. Somebody will have to pay for the repairs to the Malemute. I suppose that it will be Lloyd’s, as usual.”
But was it an accident? Grimes asked himself. This Sobraon was practically a sister ship to Clavering’s own Sally Ann, his last space-going command. Too, Clavering had piloted Sobraon inwards. He would know the second/foot/tons developed by her inertial drive. As port captain he would know, too, the breaking strain of Rim Malemute’s moorings. His motive? Plain enough. He didn’t want Grimes ranging far and wide over the surface of Eblis, ostensibly conducting a survey. Deliberately, knowing Gillings’ weakness, he had got the TG Clipper’s master drunk the night before lift-off. And Gillings, knowing that he was morally as well as legally to blame for the alleged accident, would tend to back up Clavering in any story that did not show him and his pilot in a bad light. After all, insofar as his owners were concerned he was there, and they were not.
Just then Clavering came through on the transceiver. His face, in the little screen, was surprisingly calm. Behind him, Gillings seemed to have aged years in as many minutes. “Sobraon to Eblis Aero-Space Control . . . I don’t think we sustained any damage, but I’m putting the ship in orbit until we’re sure. Expect me when you see me. Over.”
“Commodore Grimes is here, sir.”
“Put him on, will you? Good morning, Commodore. I’m afraid we damaged your Malemute. I saw her come a clanger in the rear vision screen. I’m sorry about that.”
“So am I,” Grimes said.
“I’m Lloyd’s Agent on Eblis. I’ll survey Malemute as soon as I get back.”
“That’s uncommonly decent of you,” said Grimes.
“Don’t take it so hard, Commodore. Excuse me, please. I’ve some pilotage to do. Over and out.”
“Mphm,” grunted Grimes. After this unsatisfactory conversational exchange he could continue with his thoughts. There was the failure, the deliberate failure, he was sure, to have Grimes and Williams called so that they could be in Sobraon’s control room during lift-off. There were the bottles of drugged mineral water—very tempting after a thirst-inducing meal—in the bedroom refrigerators. Of course, he did not know that the mineral water had been drugged, but it certainly looked that way. He should have kept a sample—but what good would that have been? On this world there were no police, no forensic laboratories. Clavering was the law—such as it was.
Clavering came back on the NST transceiver. “In orbit,” he announced. “The chief officer’s making an inspection now. Is Commodore Grimes still with you?”
“Grimes here.”
“For your report, Commodore, the wind caught us just as we were lifting.”
“There wasn’t any wind, Captain Clavering. I saw the whole thing happen.”
“Oh, there wouldn’t be any wind at ground level. But there are some odd eddies in the higher levels of the canyon.”
“As low as only one hundred meters up?”
“Yes.”
And you’re the expert on this bloody world, thought Grimes. Your word’d be better than mine if I tried to raise any kind of a stink.
“For the remainder of your stay on Eblis,” went on Clavering, “you and your people must stay free of charge at my hotel. I cannot help feeling that I’m to blame for what happened.”
Too right you are, thought Grimes.
“We’ll talk things over as soon as I get back.”
We’ll do just that, thought Grimes.
“I’ll be seeing you, then.”
“I’ll be seeing you, Captain Clavering,” said Grimes, trying to inject the slightest touch of menace into his voice. If he got Clavering worried he might start making mistakes.
And—Damn it all, thought Grimes, I’m not a policeman!
He said to the duty officer, “Ring the hotel, please, and see if Commander Williams is available.”
Commander Williams, it seemed, was not. When he finally did wake up, thought Grimes, he’d be sorry that he hadn’t stayed asleep. He loved his little Malemute as other men loved a woman.