He left behind him a son, Charles, who proved a reluctant but eventually very able leader, and a Church that has withstood the test of time despite many transformations.
THE GARDEN SPOT
DON HAWTHORNE
Earth Date: 23.7.2034-WAYFORTH STATION; TANITH SECTOR-
A class action suit filed by the crew of a CoDominium exploration vessel was upheld today after six weeks' review of the case by CoDo arbitrators. The suit will now proceed to CoDominium Civil Court for eventual resolution.
Captain Jed Byers of the CDSS Ranger and his crew were prepared to bring suit against the M.I.T./CalTech University Consortium for breach-of-contract regarding the Ranger's claim of a discovery bonus for the Byers Star System. Though no habitable worlds exist in this system, the primary gas giant does possess a marginally habitable moon. The Ranger's master and crew admit that this moon's qualifications for colonial use are barely within the parameters established by CoDominium law, but it was the University Consortium's position that the very fact of its being a moon rather than a planet rendered any discovery bonus clauses in their contract null and void. In addition, reaching the new system is by no means easy; it lies at the end of several awkwardly linked Alderson Jump points, and travel time from Earth is over a standard year. Even so, CoDo arbitrators, perhaps fearing to set a precedent that might discourage initiative among exploratory vessels, passed the case upward in the Civil Judiciary, which is expected to hand down a ruling in favor of Captain Byers and his crew.
When asked his opinion on the future of the system which now bears his name, Captain Byers shrugged and said: "That's not my problem anymore. We found it. Now it's up to the Survey boys."
Willard Fahran, attorney for the University Consortium had little to say beyond this: "We don't see much point in pursuing this any further. The moon isn't much more than a rock, but the more time we waste on litigation, the less time the Survey groups have to find some shred of value in it."
Mr. Fahran would not comment on a statement by Allan Wu, Science Officer of the Ranger, that "ownership of an entire planetary body for personal exploitation allows very little chance of bankruptcy."
One Year Later . . .
"Geez, this place doesn't look too good." Frank Owens, the Navigator, grunted as he hunched over his screen in a posture that would bring misery to his back in years to come.
"What it looks like is borderline quality dog food," Brian Connolly, the First Officer, concurred. His voice had that fruity uppah-crust British drawl, and even in the gloom of the bridge, you could tell from its modulation that his posture was correct; his spine would never dare be otherwise.
"Cold dog food," Owens continued. He sat up and turned toward Captain Emmett Potter. "Christ, Captain; people are gonna try to live here?"
"Most likely." Potter was the end product of ten generations of Narragansett Bay fisherfolk. Though unusually loquacious for a Wet Yankee, he had to be in the mood, and right now, that mood was not on him. There was too much work to do. He finished tweaking a circuit board and plugged it back into the sensor module. The ship's master, Farrow, had very little money to spend, and in the months since leaving Wayforth Station Potter had become something of an expert in making do.
"Well, then, they're for sure gonna die here, I can tell you that right now." Owens grabbed his floating keypad and began making notes.
"Well, pickings have been pretty slim, lately," Potter continued. Which was something of an understatement. There'd been a lucky run of High Desirability planets discovered and placed on the A list in the last few years, and Survey Teams were assigned by seniority. The Explorers had been getting rich on discovery bonuses, the senior Survey Teams had been getting richer on all the "Priority:Rush/Habitation Study" orders, and the Companies had been getting richer still on their increased stock values for acquisition of high investment value worlds.
The only people who hadn't been getting rich were, as usual, the commander and crew of the Fast Eddie.
The Edward V was her name on the roster, but her first master had been a Canuck drunkard who insisted on calling her Edouard Vee; somebody heard the "vee" in a Montreal accent, thought it was "vite," which meant "quickly" in French, the joke made the rounds and the name had stuck like a leftover curse, far outlasting the short and undistinguished career of the ship's first, now dead, master.
Fast Eddie had a crew of eight: The master, Thomas Farrow, the flight crew, consisting of Captain Potter, First Officer Connolly, and Navigator Owens, Chief Engineer William Liu and a black gang comprised of two engineers of indiscriminate but more or less Latin ancestry named Icaorius and Mi'huelo Costanza. Icaorius and Mi'huelo being something of a mouthful, they were instead known variously as "Ike and Mike," "the Cisco Kids," or more commonly, "those Christless Spaniards." They might actually have been Spaniards for all that the officers could decipher of their bizarre dialect, but in fact, they were Basques, and every reference to them as Spaniards by the rest of the crew was followed by mysterious failures in cabin humidity, air conditioning, and most frequently, the mean temperature of shower water. Consequently or not, as time passed there were fewer and fewer such references.
Of the eighth man, the less Potter thought about him, the better he felt. Robert Miller was very low on his list of favorite people.
Captain Potter shook his head, thinking about how he had spent the last half of a year, and to what purpose? The ship was a patchwork embarrassment, the crew likewise, and as data began rolling in on the cheesy joke of a habitat beneath them, Potter couldn't help thinking that they were just the ship for the job. But he'd been with Farrow when the Wayforth Station administrator, Vilmer Hogan, had called them in for the assignment, and he knew the master hadn't had much choice.
"Fast Eddie is just the ship for the job," Hogan had told them. Potter had noticed that the administrator hadn't met their eyes when he'd said that.
"It's Edward the Fifth," Farrow had said tiredly. He didn't have much fight left in him, these days.
Potter had jumped in before the administrator could bully Farrow into submission. "And how can you say that, Hogan? She's been laid up for eight weeks waiting for parts that your service crews claim have to be saved for ships with higher seniority. And you want to send us to a rock that's over a year from Earth? We'll be spending the next six months burning fuel to get from one Alderson Point to the next and another half a year to get back."
"Your wages will accumulate, same as always. And you'll be reimbursed for your fuel expenditures."
Potter had given the administrator a sour smile. "Don't insult my intelligence, Hogan. You know as well as I that we can't come out ahead on this deal even if we hit the jackpot on a Survey Bonus." It had seemed like such a good idea for the crew to buy out Fast Eddie, once upon a time . . .
Hogan had shifted in his chair, and for the first time Potter had noticed the sweat on the fat man's upper lip; he was very nervous about something. "Look, Farrow, Potter. Survey of this moon is very important to certain people. These people are eager to confirm the moon's habitability as soon as possible. I'm authorized to cancel all of the Fast Eddie's outstanding debts, return her to full operational status at no expense to you, and absorb all your operating costs for the duration of the mission."
Potter remembered listening to the very quiet air conditioning unit in Hogan's office hum for some time.
"Why?" Farrow had spoken first, surprising them both.