Wilf Brim's First Takeoff
from
The Helmsman

"Many of us in crew do not think is fair you must go through with this, Wilf," Ursis added.

Brim glanced at his boots, wrestling with his emotions. He wasn't used to Imperials who even cared if he lived or died. Finally, he shook his head, looking first at one and then the other. "Thank you," he said quietly. "Thank you both. But sooner or later, I'm going to have to face up to this, and I suppose now is as good as any other time."

"Is brave decision you make, Wilf," Borodov said.

"Is also too late to change mind," Ursis interrupted, inclining his head slightly toward the back of the bridge. "Now comes Gallsworthy." Without another word, the Sodeskayan dissolved into a suddenly quiet bridge.

CHAPTER 2

As he strode among the consoles, Bosporus P. Gallsworthy, lieutenant, I.F, wore the look of a man so secure in what he did that mere outward appearance was of no importance. His face was almost wooden in calm, though bushy eyebrows failed to mask a glint of cold intelligence in his red-rimmed eyes. He had short-cropped chair and loosely jowled, pockmarked cheeks, a dark complexion, and thin, dry lips. His height was average or a little less, and his uniform, though most ob¬viously clean, revealed the ghost of a stain halfway down the left breast of his tunic. Reaching the principal's console, he casually flipped his cape to one side and slid into the recliner. Brim watched him from the corner of his eye, motionless.

"Mr. Chairman," Gallsworthy said curtly.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Gallsworthy."

"I'll have the systems checkout right away," Gallsworthy interrupted. "Altimeters?"

"Preverified," said the Chairman. "Set... and cross¬ checked."

"Engineers' preflight?"

"Preverified: complete."

"G-wave service?"

"Preverified: forty-four, five hundred Go and GH."

"What in xaxt is this xaxtdamned 'preverified' business?" Gallsworthy demanded.

"The systems checkouts are already complete, Lieutenant," the Chairman said. "We are ready for immediate generator start¬up."

"Who ran those checkouts?"

"Lieutenant Brim, sir."


"Brim? Who's Brim?"

"SubLieutenant Wilf Brim," the Chairman replied, "at the console next..."

"Takeoff bugs ninety-two, one thirty-eight, one fifty-one," Gallsworthy interrupted, continuing the checkout. "And drop that 'preverified' muck."

"One sixty-nine five," the Chairman answered.

"Four eight oh four?"

"One hundred and seventy thousand, Lieutenant," the Chairman said. "Within tolerances."

Gallsworthy paused, frowned. "I know," he growled. "All right. You can skip the rest of that one, then. We'll do the 'start' checklist next."

"The 'start' checklist is also complete, Lieu..."

"I said 'start' checklist, Mr. Chairman. Now."

"Start pressure ninety-one forty. Sub-generator on," the Chairman said.

"Gravity brake?"

"Set."

"KA'PPA beacon?"

"Energized. "

Again Gallsworthy stopped. "Skip down to ...No. Stow that." Without turning his head, he spoke from the side of his mouth. "All right, Brim, or whatever it is they call you. If you think you're so xaxtdamned expert at checkout all by yourself, maybe you'll want to fly this beast yourself, too?"

"That will be fine, sir," Brim answered, without turning his own head. But his heart was in his mouth. He endured Gallsworthy's stony silence for a personal eternity, staring through the Hyperscreens into the dirty gray sky and driving rain and forcing himself to relax. Every eye on the bridge would be watching.

At some length, Gallsworthy turned in his recliner. "Smart¬aleck kid," he snarled under his breath, biting each word off short. "Right out of the xaxtdamned Academy and you puppies think you know how to fly a starship. I've got half a notion to let you try it, then kick your ass off the ship when you can't. "

"I'm ready, Lieutenant," Brim asserted quietly, still staring out the Hyperscreens, "anytime you are."
In the corner of his eye, he watched a startled expression form on the senior Helmsman's face, then turn to cold anger.

"You just thraggling asked for it, Brim," Gallsworthy hissed through clenched teeth," --all of it. The controls are yours." He sat back in his recliner and folded his arms.

For the first time, Brim turned and faced the waspish individual who was to be his first commandant. "As you wish, Lieutenant," he said evenly.

Gallsworthy snorted, smiled, and began to return to the controls when he stopped short and turned in his seat again. "What was that?" he demanded.

"I said, 'As you wish, Lieutenant,'" Brim repeated.

Gallsworthy's face clouded; his bushy eyebrows descended to almost hide his eyes. "You mean you're actually going to try to?" he stumbled, clearly unprepared for Brim's answer. "Why, you can't fly this ship any more than a" He stopped, clearly groping for a suitable term of disapprobation.

"I can't believe you plan to finish that sentence, Lieutenant Gallsworthy," Collingswood interrupted. "Certainly you would never turn over the controls to someone whose competence you question. Would you?"

The senior Helmsman jerked around in his recliner. "When did you?" he growled, then bit his lip. "My apologies, Captain," he said lamely. "I, ah..."

"Oh, please continue, Lieutenant Gallsworthy," Collingswood commanded sharply.

"Nothing, Captain," Gallsworthy grumbled. "Really."

"Very well, Mr. Gallsworthy," Collingswood answered. "And I am highly gratified to see you and Number One working so closely together today."

At this, Amherst looked up in alarm. "Together?"

"Why, yes," Collingswood answered, the very picture of innocence. "It was you who suggested Lieutenant Brim have a chance to show us how he graduated first in his class at the Helmsman's Academy. Wasn't it?"

"First in his?" Amherst stammered. "Ah. Why, ah of course, Captain." He turned to Gallsworthy. "Didn't we, Lieutenant Gallsw..."

"We shall discuss this cooperation at a more appropriate time, gentlemen," Collingswood interrupted pointedly. "Lieutenant Brim is about to transfer control to his console, aren't you, Lieutenant?"

Brim nodded. "Aye, Captain," he agreed quickly. Then, before anything further might transpire, he acted. "Mr. Chair¬man," he ordered, "swap command to this console immediately."

Gallsworthy stiffened, opened his eyes and his mouth at the same time, and turned toward Collingswood, but he was already metacycles too late. Before retiring the previous night, Brim had carefully preset all necessary turn-over transactions, and the complex ritual was accomplished almost instantaneously.

"Start checkout is complete, Lieutenant Ursis," the Carescrian said to an image of the Sodeskayan that suddenly shimmered in a hovering display globe near his right hand. "Fire off the generators, please."

"Starboard antigrav," Ursis rumbled quickly. "Turning one; wave guide closed." From far aft and deep within the hull, a low whine dropped slowly to a wavering drone. This steadied. "Turning two." A thump passed through the spaceframe. "Guide open."

Brim watched colored patterns race across his power read¬outs as antigravity pressure built. A gentle rumble, more felt than heard, replaced the drone, building rapidly in volume and strength. "Call 'em out, Mr. Chairman," he ordered.

"Normal pressure," the Chairman confirmed. "Plus nine. Plus twelve. Plus fifteen - we have a start, Lieutenant."

Ursis' beady eye winked at Brim from the display. "Port generator, Mr. Chairman," he continued without interruption. "Turning one; wave guide closed." A second whine mingled with the sound of the running generator and dropped in pitch. "Turning two. Guide open." The combined rumble was a sub¬stantial presence on the bridge as the second antigravity gen¬erator reached operating parameters.

"Normal pressure on starboard," the Chairman reported. "Plus fifteen. You have a second start, Lieutenant Ursis."

"Number three," Ursis said quietly. "Standard start. You do it, Mr. Chairman." A third and higher pitched thrumming soon joined the first two.

"All generators running and steady," reported the Chairman.

"Your ship, Wilf," the Bear pronounced. "Drive systems are checked and waiting."

"Thank you, Nik," Brim said, trying desperately to avoid matching eyes with the clearly thunderstruck Gallsworthy. He mentally ran through a dozen personal checklists, scanned the readouts once more - all normal. Satisfied for the moment, he relaxed in the recliner. "Mr. Amherst," he announced to the clearly disapproving Number One, "the Helmsman's station is ready for immediate departure."

"Let's be at it, then, Number One," Collingswood's voice prompted as Brim watched the freezing rain spatter against the heated Hyperscreens. A large tracked vehicle had just pulled onto the jetty, lining up in front of Truculent's sharp nose. Presently, three great amber lenses deployed from its back and positioned themselves so that only one could be seen from Brim's console. They glowed once, twice. Brim's hands eased over his control panel. "Ground link complete," he reported tersely.

"All hands to stations for lift-off, Mr. Chairman," Amherst commanded.

Brim listened to alarms going off below. "Special¬-duty spacemen close up!" On the forward deck, lights appeared in the mooring-control cupola. A nearby display showed the two mooring cupolas aft were now manned and ready. All over the bridge, a familiar litany of departure was in full activity. Below, at least ten maintenance analogs were racing along the decks making last-minute checks for loose gear. From the rear of the bridge, Maldive spoke into a dozen interCOMM sys¬tems. "Testing alarm systems! Testing alarm systems! Test¬ing"

Outside, an indistinct movement on the basin caught Brim's attention. Imagination? No - there it was again! Nearly lost in the grayness, a light of some sort was battling through the driving rain.
"Ship approaching from green, yellow-green, Lieutenant Brim," a rating warned from his center console.

"Very well," Brim acknowledged. "I'll keep an eye on it." Within clicks, he could make out a darker mass within the gray, which steadily defined itself into an angular shape. First, a KA'PPA beacon broke clear among the sheets of driving rain, then a bridge, and finally a hull, riding fast about twenty irals off a flattened, frothing area of water amid the thrashing waves of the storm-swept basin. Brim made out "A.45" on the side of a bridge wing; she was one of a relatively new class of large, fast, and heavily protected destroyers that had been constantly in the public eye of late because of their prominent employment in the Empire's critical convoy lifelines. From her bridge she also displayed the flashing triangular device that signaled she carried a flotilla leader aboard. A ship of some consequence, this one, and she approached Truculent's gravity pool with an important mien, drawing to a stop in a sweeping cloud of ice particles as her reversing generators bled off the tremendous momentum she carried.

"I.F.S. Audacious," Amherst observed with ill-concealed awe as he looked up from a data display. "With Sir Davenport himself aboard. Do you suppose she's the next one for our gravity pool? We could run the next checklists out on the water."

"Why should we do that?" Collingswood asked with a frown.

"Well," Amherst said with raised eyebrows, "Sir Hugh is an influential person in the Fleet, after all."
"And he is at least a quarter metacycle early," Collingswood answered. "We shall clear the mooring in our own good time. You will proceed with our departure in a normal manner, Mr. Amherst. "

"As you wish, Captain," the senior Lieutenant said, a half-troubled timbre in his voice.

Brim mentally shrugged, storing that tidbit in a safe corner of his mind. If Collingswood wasn't worried about a flotilla leader, then neither was he. He grinned to himself while all around the gravity pool, mooring beams flashed as ratings in the mooring cupolas drew the ship solidly into place. Suddenly, treble-pitched steering engines overlaid the rumbling gravity generators. Truculent's bridge quivered as side thrusts jolted through her spaceframe. "Steering engine thrusts in all quadrants, Lieutenant," the Chairman reported.
"Very well," Brim said calmly. "Pretaxi check, Mr. Chairman, bridge report..."

"Bridge is secure, Lieutenant."

"Electrical?"

"On generators."

"Environmentals?"

"Packs are set for 'flight.'"

"Auxiliary power?"

"Running. "

"Launches stowed and secured for deep space," a voice reported at Amherst's console behind him.
"All working parties on station, Lieutenant," said another voice. "Analogs report decks clear and secure."

"Pretaxi check complete," Brim announced, forcing himself to relax. He felt the gentle throb of the gravity generators, watched Ursis' face as the Bear made last-minute adjustments to their controls. Truculent was nearly ready for lift-off.

Suddenly, KA'PPA rings flashed from the waiting ship's high beacon like concentric waves from a pebble in a pool.

"Message from I.F.S. Audacious," a balding signals yeoman with fat cheeks reported to Collingswood.

"Very well, Mr. Applewood," Collingswood replied. "I'll have it."

"'Flotilla leader, the Honorable Commodore Sir Hugh Dav¬enport, I.F, informs I.F.S. Truculent that he is now assigned this gravity pool,'" Applewood read in a high-pitched voice.

Brim heard Collingswood chuckle. "Is that so?" she asked. "Well, Mr. Applewood, you can make this back to the Hon¬orable, etc., aboard I.F.S. Audacious: 'Pity. Where does the Commodore propose to moor his starship?'"

"All stations ready to proceed, Captain," Amherst re¬ported, this time almost in a gasp.

"Lieutenant Brim," Collingswood's voice boomed confi¬dently in the pregnant silence of the bridge, "you may proceed to the takeoff zone when you receive taxi clearance."

Brim smiled to himself. It was one of those moments he imagined he would recall for the remainder of his life - as long as that might be, considering the going mortality rate for destroyers. "Aye, aye, Captain," he said. "Proceeding to the takeoff zone. "Mr. Chairman, have the cupolas single up all moorings," he ordered.

Immediately, beams winked out all around the ship until only a single shaft of green remained attached at any of the optical bollards in the jetty walls.

"All mooring points singled up, Lieutenant," the Chairman reported.

"Very well, Mr. Chairman," Brim announced quietly, "you may now switch to internal gravity - Quartermaster Maldive on the interCOMM, please."

"Aye, aye, Lieutenant," Maldive answered from a display.

"All hands stand by for internal gravity," Maldive's voice echoed from the ship's interCOMM as alarms clattered in the background.

Brim braced himself as the first sudden rush of nausea swept his stomach. He swallowed hard, forcing his gorge back where it ought to be. Loose articles all over the ship rattled and clanged. He felt sweat break momentarily from his forehead. Then, quickly as it struck, the sensation passed. A muffled thump announced detachment of the ground umbilicals; the ship sagged precariously to port, then righted as her stable platforms adjusted to independent operation. From a corner of his eye, he watched the brow swing away from the hull and retract into the top of the jetty. He glanced at the tracked vehicle; its lenses were still perfectly lined up with his console but now glowing cool green. A white cursor was centered on the foremost surface. He flexed his shoulders and shook his head, smiling to himself - another gravity switch without los¬ing his breakfast. "I'll speak with Ground Control now, Mr. Chairman," he said, glancing quickly at the waiting vehicle on the jetty wall.

"Ground Control," a narrow face with huge, bushy eye¬brows announced from a display.

"T.83 to Ground," Brim replied. "We're ready to taxi out when you are."

"Ground to DD T.83," the Controller said. "You're cleared to taxi. And you've got a destroyer standing off your stem."

"T.83 to Ground: I see that one," Brim replied.

"DD A.45: hold your position," the Controller warned Audacious through another display in the tracked vehicle.

Brim overheard Davenport's curt "Holding" through the same round¬about means. It provided scant comfort; the waiting destroyer could hardly have drawn up any closer to Truculent's gravity pool - nor been placed in a more inconvenient position with regard to the wind. Starships were forbidden to fly low over any land areas because overpressure from their gravity generators simply caused too much damage and noise. That ruled out exiting the gravity pool in a normal, forward-running attitude. The same overpressure (and resulting noise levels) also prohibited altitudes higher than thirty irals anywhere within a c'lenyt of land. And because Audacious blocked any chance for a snubbed swing with mooring beams rigged as old-fashioned spring lines, it was now Brim's difficult task to back the starship around the other destroyer - in a high-wind situation. More¬over, he was painfully aware that if he so much as grazed Davenport's spotless new escort, the resulting board of inquiry would destroy his career before it had much of a chance to begin. Wrestling his jangled nerves to a tenuous draw, he shrugged and smiled to himself. Best to be on with it. In the next few cycles, he'd either win all the maneuvering room he wanted, or he would be on his way back to the ore carriers. And in no way did he intend a return to Carescria's C-97 ore barges!

"Ground to DD T.83: wind zero four zero at ninety-one," the Controller reported..

"T.83 copies," Brim acknowledged, shaking his head. "I'll have a balance on the forward gravity generator, Nik," he said. "Then give me a point ninety-one gradient at zero four." That would at least give him a chance with the wind.

"Ninety-one gradient at zero four," Ursis repeated.

The low rumbling of Truculent's forward generator in¬creased as it shouldered the weight of the ship. "Balanced," Ursis reported.

"Helm's at dead center, Lieutenant," the Chairman an¬nounced. "We are ready to move."

"Stand by," Brim warned. He checked the control settings once more, feeling a balm of resignation soothe his nerves. Truculent could never--in his wildest nightmares--be as difficult to control as a loaded ore carrier. And he'd mastered them. "Let go all mooring beams," he ordered quietly, eyes glued to the cursor in the center of Ground Control's lenses. Instantly, the beams vanished. "Dead slow astern all," he ordered, feeling sweat break out on his forehead.

"Dead slow astern," Ursis echoed tensely; the ship began to move.

With one eye on Audacious, Brim struggled to keep the cursor centered, but in spite of every effort, it started across the glowing lens - sure indication Truculent was drifting upwind. Brim's heart leaped into his mouth. "Too much gradient, Nik!" he warned. "We're sliding into Audacious."

"I've got fix on it," Ursis answered tensely. "Sorry."

"'S all right," Brim croaked with relief as the drifting slowed and finally ceased, but he didn't breathe again until Truculent was backed all the way off the gravity pool. "Stop together," he ordered. She was now directly beside Audacious, separated at the stem from Davenport's spotless decks by no more than a score of irals.

"Stop together," Ursis echoed.

Now came the tricky part. Screwing up his courage again, he ordered, "Dead slow astern, port."
"Dead slow astern, port." Truculent's bow began to swing sharply toward disaster waiting only irals away.

"Brim! What in the Universe are you?" Gallsworthy growled beside him.

"It is Lieutenant Brim's helm, Lieutenant Gallsworthy," Collingswood interrupted. "By your orders."

Brim put them both from his mind. The next clicks were critical. He tensed, waited... "Quarter astern starboard, dead slow astern port," he uttered with a dry mouth.

"Quarter astern starboard, dead slow astern port," Ursis echoed. Truculent's bow stopped its swing only an iral or so from Audacious, then slowly began to draw away to safety. This time, the gravity gradient held and - as Brim planned- she continued in a wide turn to port. But an eternity passed before the starship's needle bow finally pointed out on to the rolling waters of the basin.
Brim never so much as looked back. "Ahead one-quarter, both," he ordered weakly.

"Ahead one-quarter, both," Ursis echoed, this time with an ear-to-ear grin. He knew.

At that moment, a display winked into life with the image of Sophia Pym touching thumb to forefinger. "Too bad you can't see Amherst's face," she whispered gleefully. Beside her, Theada's look of astonishment had grown to one of total disbelief.

While Truculent moved into the relative freedom of the basin, the Controller called once more from the jetty: "Ground to DD T.83: you're cleared for taxi out to sea marker 98lG. See you all next time you're in port. Good hunting!"

"DD T.83 to Ground," Brim replied. "Proceeding to marker 98lG. And thanks." He peered into the driving rain ahead. "I am taking the helm, Mr. Chairman," he announced.

"You have the helm, Lieutenant Brim," the Chairman acknowledged. For the first time that morning, Brim's hands touched the directional controls. He was now in direct command of the ship itself. Inadvertently, he glanced at Gallsworthy - who was now staring back with unconcealed curiosity.

"Yes, sir?" Brim asked.

"Mind your own business, Carescrian," Gallsworthy replied expressionlessly. But somehow the coldness had gone.

Brim nodded and turned away silently. Now was not the time to work out his basic relationship with this taciturn individual. "Taxi checks, Mr. Chairman," he said. "Lift modifiers?"

"Fifteen, fifteen, green," the Chairman replied.

"Yaw dampers and instruments?"

"Checked."

"Weight and balance finals?"

"One sixty-nine five hundred; no significant changes, Lieutenant."

"Twenty-one point two on the stabilizer. Engineer's taxi check, Nik?"

"Complete," Ursis growled.

"Taxi checklist complete," the Chairman pronounced.

With a feeling of relief, Brim watched the opening to the basin slide past. Truculent was now over open water. "Half ahead, both," he said, setting a course for marker 98lG across the ranks of marching waves.

"Half ahead, both," Ursis echoed.

During the nearly ten cycles required to taxi into place, Brim made his own final checks of the starship's systems, finishing only moments before the flashing buoy hove into view ahead in the Hyperscreens. "DD T.83 to Harbor Control," he announced. "Starship is in sight of marker 981 G. Heading two ninety-one." He grinned in spite of himself. "Lift-off checklist, Mr. Chairman," he ordered.

"Transponders and 'Home' indicator on. 'Fullstop' cell powered. All warning lights off," the Chairman reported.

"Engineer's check?"

"Complete," Ursis said.

"Configuration check... Antiskid?"

"Skid is on," replied the Chairman.

"Speed brake?"

"Forward."

"Stabilizer trim - delete the gravity gradient, Mr. Chairman."

"Gravity gradient eliminated. Ship carries normal twenty-three one on lift-off."

"Very well, Mr. Chairman. Course indicators, Mr. Gallsworthy?" Brim prompted politely.

Mind clearly elsewhere for the moment, Gallsworthy jumped in his recliner. "A moment, Lieutenant," he mumbled with a reddening face and busied himself frenetically at the course controls. "Set and checked," he croaked at length.

"Lift-off check complete, Captain Collingswood," Brim announced. "At your command."

"Your helm, Lieutenant Brim," Collingswood replied from a display, thumb raised to the Hyperscreens --just as a nearby COMM globe flashed its priority pattern and displayed the Harbor Master's face.

"Harbor Master to DD T.83," he announced. "Hold your position at marker buoy 981G for cross traffic." Collingswood chuckled from her display and smiled understandingly.

"Holding," Brim grumped. "Full speed reverse, both," he said to Ursis' image.

"Full speed reverse, both," the Bear echoed.

Truculent glided to a hovering stop just short of the tossing buoy.

"All stop."

"All stop."

"Steering engine's amidships," the Chairman announced.

In the driving rain outside the ship, Brim could see neither sky nor horizon; but twenty-five irals below, the sea's great swells were thick and black looking, peppered with ice rubble. Abruptly, a chance break in the downpour revealed the specter of another mass looming from the grayness, this one infinitely larger than Audacious. It quickly defined itself as the profile of a monster starship moving rapidly in Truculent's direction near the surface of the water. Scant moments later, she fairly burst from the storm, majestic and powerful, sea creaming away ahead of the roiling, foaming footprint she punched deep in the flattened surface, a haze of spray lifting hundreds of irals in her wake to rival the clouds themselves. Brim gasped in spite of himself. Perhaps no one in the galaxy could mistake that grand panorama of stacked bridges, great casemated turrets, and wide-shouldered, tapering hull: Iaith Galad, one of the three greatest battlecruisers ever constructed, and sister ship to Nimue, in which the famous Star Admiral Merlin Emrys was lost (nearly two years ago now, if Brim's memory served him). Waves of chill marched his back in icy regiments. To serve as Helmsman on something like her! He shook his head in resignation. Carescrians didn't get assignments like that. But what a dream.

"We shall require a salute, Lieutenant Amherst," Collingswood's voice prompted.

"Aye, Captain," Amherst replied. Immediately, glowing KA'PPA rings shimmered out from Truculent's beacon in the age-old Imperial salute, "MAY STARS LIGHT ALL THY PATHS."

Brim had to crane his head back to see Iaith Galad's beacon when she made her traditional reply: "AND THY PATHS, STAR TRAVELERS." He glimpsed tiny figures peering down from the vast panoply of Hyperscreens atop her towering bridge as she passed. One of them waved. Then, quickly as she appeared, she was gone, swallowed again in the gloom. Truculent bounced heavily in her gravity wake while a deluge of spray from the warship's backwash cascaded in sheets over the Hyperscreens and decks below. Then the destroyer steadied and the sea rolled again beneath the hull as if the great starship had never passed.

"DD T. 83: you now are cleared for immediate takeoff," the Harbor Master announced. "Wind is zero four at one oh three. Heavy battlecruiser just landed reports considerable turbulence on final: your path."

"Thank you very much," Brim acknowledged, then looked Ursis' image in the eye and winked. "Finally," he whispered, then louder, "Full speed ahead."

The Bear nodded. "Good luck," he mouthed silently. "Full speed ahead." Immediately, Truculent's two oversized gravity generators began to thunder deep in the starship's hull, shaking the whole spaceframe.

While thrust built, Brim held the bucking, vibrating starship in place with gravity brakes. He got a definite feeling the devices were only just adequate for the job, and was distinctly glad to hear Gallsworthy's voice when it came.

"Lights are on; you've got takeoff thrust!"

Brim released the brakes. "Full military ahead, both, Nik!" he bellowed over the roar of the generators.

"Full military ahead, both," Ursis answered. The noise intensified and Truculent began to creep forward.

Brim managed a last glance aft through the rain. The huge rolling waves were now flattened in a wide, flowing trough that extended out from their stem to a great cloud building skyward at the very limits of his vision. Then the ship was suddenly racing over the water, and no time remained for thoughts, only reflexes and habits. Stabilizers and lift modifiers, helm and thrust controllers. And even his long afternoon simulating on the bridge was poor preparation for the destroyer's astonishing acceleration. "Great - thraggling - ¬Universe!" he gasped.

"Moves right out, doesn't she?" Ursis commented through a grinning mouthful of teeth.

Awed, Brim watched the surface rush by for only clicks before Gallsworthy's voice beside him announced, "ALPHA velocity." Then he carefully rotated the destroyer's nose upward a specified increment for lift-off. Truculent was smooth and responsive on the controls, almost skittish. She was his first real thoroughbred, a hundred light-years beyond even the best of the training ships he had flown.

"BETA velocity," Gallsworthy announced a few moments later, then, "Positive climb." Within clicks, Truculent was thun¬dering through Haefdon's heavy cloud cover, bumping heavily in the everlasting turbulence.

"Haul 'em both back to full speed ahead, Nik," Brim ordered.

"Full speed ahead, both," the Bear verified. Generator noise in the bridge subsided considerably.

"DD T.83: contact departure one two zero point six," the Harbor Master called. "Good hunting, Truculents!" The trans¬mission faded quickly as they broke out in smooth air above the overcast: Dirty gray billows that extended forever and forever in Gimmas' weak sunlight.

"Departure Control to DD T.83," said a woman's face in the display. "You are cleared Hypo-light to the Lox'Sands-98 buoy, zone orange - with immediate transition to Hyper-Drive on arrival. Good-bye from Gimmas-Haefdon starbase. And good luck, Truculent.

"T.83 to Departure Control," Brim seconded, "proceeding Lox'Sands-98 buoy, zone orange with immediate HyperLight transition on arrival. Thanks, Gimmas-Haefdon. See you next time." Before he finished speaking, Truculent swept through the planet's atmosphere and was streaking along in darkness on the edge of outer space. He busied himself with additional checkout routines and monitored the ship's systems for the next few cycles, keeping a wary eye on his LightSpeed indicator as the ship accelerated. "Let's cut in the Drive, Nik," he said presently. "Lieutenant Gallsworthy, will you call out the readings?"

Ursis winked and kissed his fingertips. "Drive shutters open. Activating Drive crystals," he echoed. "Firing number one." A single shaft of green light extended far out into the blackness aft. Instantly, Hyperscreens dimmed to protect the bridge oc¬cupants while a deep, businesslike grumble joined the roar of the gravity generators.

"Point seven five LightSpeed. Point eight," Gallsworthy called out.

"Readouts normal," the Chairman reported.

Ursis nodded, cross-checking his own instruments. Apparently satisfied, he went on to the next: "Firing two. Firing three. "

"Point eight five LightSpeed," Gallsworthy continued. "Point nine."

"Firing four."

Truculent's light-limited gravity generators were now just about played out. In the forward Hyperscreens, the first glowing sheets of Gandom's Ve effect were already crackling along the starship's deck when Brim turned his attention outside.

"Point nine seven LightSpeed."

Presently, the visible Universe became laced by a fine net¬work of pulsing brilliance spreading jaggedly from the last visible stars as if the whole firmament were about to shatter into the very pebbles of creation. Now all he had to do was pass the Lox'Sands-98 buoy. The ship would have to tell him when; until the Drive could be deployed, Truculent's bridge crew was virtually blind to the outside Universe.

Suddenly: "Lox'Sands-98 buoy in the wake, Lieutenant Brim," the Chairman confirmed. Brim smiled with anticipa¬tion. "That's it, Nik," he said. "Half ahead, all crystals."

"Half ahead, all crystals," Ursis echoed. Quiet thunder from Truculent's four Drive crystals joined the roar of her straining gravity generators, the starscape wobbled and shimmered, then blended to an angry red kaleidoscope ahead until space itself came to an end in a wilderness of shifting, multicolored sparks. When this phenomenon (the Daya-Peraf transition) at last sub¬sided, the LightSpeed indicator had moved through 1.0 and began to climb rapidly again as Truculent's Drive crystals took over the job of hurtling her through HyperSpace.

"Finished with gravity generators," Brim announced.

"Gravity generators spooling down," Ursis confirmed.

Immediately, the Hyperscreen panels darkened while their crystalline lattices were synchronized with the Drive, then they cleared once more, blazing with the full majesty of the Universe. On this side of the LightSpeed barrier, however, flowing green Drive plumes trailed the ship for at least two c'lenyts surrounded by a whirling green wake as Truculent's HyperSpace shock wave bled off mass and negative time ("T neg" of historic Travis equations) in accordance with the complex system of Travis Physics. In a few moments, the noise of the generators faded completely. Brim glanced at Collingswood. "Twenty-eight LightSpeed, Commander?" he asked.

"Twenty-eight LightSpeed will suffice," Collingswood replied with a slight grin.

"Mister Chairman, set and hold the ship on twenty-eight LightSpeed," Brim ordered.

"Twenty Eight LightSpeed cruise set," the Chairman confirmed.

Without warning, Gallsworthy caught Brim's eye.

"Yes, sir?" the surprised Carescrian asked, braced for still another rebuff.

A shadow of humor passed the senior Helmsman's reddened eyes, before they clouded again. "You may have proved a point or two this morning, Brim," he allowed emotionlessly. "I shall take over now and let you watch the scenery."

Jolted, Brim suddenly understood he had just received rare praise from this taciturn officer and groped for something ap¬propriate to say. Then he brought himself up short with the sure realization that words were tools Gallsworthy simply didn't understand. "Thank you, Lieutenant," he said matter-of-factly. "I should be glad for a moment to relax."

When control was subsequently restored to the left-hand console, Brim settled back in his recliner and closed his eyes for a moment, smiling inwardly. It was a morning of two victories so far as he was concerned, though few of the Imperials on Truculent's bridge could have logically explained why. As thralls to Avalon's Galactic Empire, Carescrians were rarely praised for anything they accomplished. Most became highly adept at ferreting out life's little triumphs wherever and whenever they could be found. And even Gallsworthy's acceptance of his flying skills could in no way match Brim's satisfaction in the sour look still manifested on Amherst's long, homely face.

Truculent was well on her way to war - so was Wilf Brim.