“So we have to turn back when we’re out of Marines?” Miriam asked. “That’s harsh.”
“But we can keep going, so we should,” Mimi said. “We should keep going as long as the food, air and water hold out. And the Marines, of course. Or until we run into something that really messes us up. Otherwise we won’t know what we can do. Is this the last mission we’re going to do?”
“No,” Bill said. “The overall plan is go back, assimilate data, do maintenance and repair, maybe switch out some crew and mission specialists, then go back out. I don’t know what the next mission parameters will be. Pretty much the same unless I’m much mistaken, just farther out.”
“And farther and farther,” Mimi said, stroking Tuffy. “To go farther and farther, we need to know how far we can go, what we can do. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Solving the problems of the universe, sir?” the COB asked as he walked in the mess.
“Trying to,” Bill admitted. “That’s what we’re out here to do, right?”
“Yes, sir, as you say,” the COB replied. “But at the moment, the captain would like a minute of your time.”
“On my way,” Bill said. “His office?”
“Yes, sir,” the COB replied. “I see the medicinal bourbon has made its way here. Mind if I have a hit?”
“Actually, just maple syrup,” Miller said, squeezing some more into a cup. “Have some. Puts hair on your chest. Then Miss Moon, Miss Jones and I are going down to the Marine mess to explain the concept of a wake to them.”
“Come,” the CO said, slipping away a book and waving to a station chair as Weaver entered the compartment. “Sit.”
“Sir,” Weaver replied, sitting down carefully.
“Any more thoughts on turning back versus going on?” the CO asked.
“Lots, sir,” Bill admitted. “I think there are about two hundred different opinions on the ship.”
“But only one matters,” the CO said. “Why did you ask to join the service, Weaver?”
“Sir?” Bill asked, momentarily confused. “Well, I was getting jerked off this mission by Columbia over and over again and I thought I could make a contribution, sir.”
“So you arranged to get a commission with the caveat that you got to go on the mission,” Spectre said. “You got sent through half a dozen classes, which you naturally breezed, given your background, and a couple of cruises. Do you think that makes you a fit officer?”
Weaver opened and closed his mouth for a moment at the apparent attack. The thing that got him was that the CO was presenting it in such an even tone he couldn’t figure out if there was anger in the background or not.
“More or less accurate, sir,” Weaver replied. “But, yes, I think I’m a fairly good officer. So far my reviews have been excellent. I think I’m a good officer, sir.”
“Did you know those Marines, Weaver?” the CO asked. “I’m sure you knew Dr. Dean, but did you ever meet any of the Marines?”
“Only in passing, sir,” Weaver said.
“I did,” Spectre said. “I made sure to meet with all the security personnel at one point or another, get to know them. I’m not a ground combat guy and don’t begin to think that I am. But they were under my command and I made sure I knew what they were made of. Pretty good kids for Marines, and they were all kids. I sent them out there, knowing it was going to be a hot mission. Given what we’d seen of the crabpus, there was a fair chance one or two were going to get injured or killed. Why did I do that?”
“It’s our mission, sir,” Bill said, still puzzled. “We’re doing a survey.”
“We had all the big information we needed about Runner’s World,” the CO said. “Dr. Dean got his core sample, we had botanical and animal samples. We had air and water samples. We could have just left and gone on to the next planet. So why keep poking?”
“If you’re second guessing your decisions, sir…” Weaver said carefully.
“I’m not, I’m asking you why I chose to keep poking,” the CO replied.
“Sir, with all due respect, I’m not a mind reader,” Weaver said.
“Take a guess.”
“Curiosity, sir? You felt that more information was necessary for the mission?”
“More the second one,” the CO said. “But the information I was looking for was ‘how hard will it be to poke on this planet.’ For that matter, how hard could it be to poke on other planets? We’ve only found two planets through the gates that have extensive biology. And both of them are pretty tame compared to Earth, much less Runner’s World. What’s your opinion of that, Commander Weaver? Be frank.”
“I think it was a valid choice, sir,” Bill responded automatically. “That was part of the discussion I was just having. How hard is it going to be to do things out here is an important part of what we’re looking at. And, hell, sir, pure curiosity isn’t a negative in what we’re doing.”
“Ever read any Kipling, Weaver?” the CO asked.
“A bit, sir,” Bill said, trying to keep up with the apparent changes in topic. “A book called Kim and a couple of his poems.”
“Brilliant man, I wrote my masters thesis on connections between Kipling’s Victorian Era, the Romans he tended to write about and current conditions. At least, current when I wrote my thesis. Things… change. But one of his overlooked poems is one called ‘The Explorer.’ It’s about a guy who quits farming one day and goes off exploring over a mountain range everyone says is uncrossable. The trip nearly kills him, and others take all the credit, but he was the first to go there and to see what was there. ‘Then a voice as stern as conscience said: Something lost beyond the ranges, lost and waiting for you… Go!’ ”
“Not familiar with it, sir,” Weaver said.
“ ’That was where the Norther killed the plains bred ponies, so I called the pass Despair,’ ” the CO said, apparently lost in thought. “Haunting poem. And do you know that funny thing about it? Such a place as he found would never have existed on Earth at any point. Even in the Americas, there were Native Americans who had been there first. A farmer couldn’t walk away from the plow and find a place that was uninhabited. But we can, Commander Weaver. We can. I’d suggest you brush up on your Kipling, Commander Weaver. Take that as a strong suggestion based on professional development. The reading list of the CO of the Vorpal Blade will, after all, be the de rigueur reading list for the future space Navy, right?”
The. Heat. Was. Lowering. It. Was. Becoming. Again.
“Semper Fi, jarhead,” Miller said as he entered the compartment.
First Sergeant Powell was standing by the hatch, looking at the group of nearly silent Marines. The mess was standing room only. But, normally, you couldn’t have packed the whole company, less officers, into the space. And even at the tables there were empty spaces, places that no one chose to sit.
Powell looked at the SEAL, then at the two women with him, and nodded.
“Semper Fidelis, Flipper,” Top said. “Ladies, why don’t you sit in one of the seats?”
Miriam looked around the room nervously. The Marines hadn’t even changed; they were still in their skinsuits, and the compartment reeked. The smell was strong and strange, the smell of fear and sweat and anger overlaid with oil and ozone. She suddenly felt as nervous as cat at a dog convention.
“Those are where your dead sat,” Miriam said. “We cannot fill their space.”
“No, but we can give the ones who sit nearest someone to talk to,” Mimi said. “Come on, Miriam.”