Gauntlet - Michael Jan Friedman [26]
Maybe, he had told himself more than once in the wee hours as he lay staring at the ceiling, it would have been more merciful to nip Obal’s hopes at the outset. Maybe it would have been less painful for the little fellow in the long run.
But he hadn’t done that. He had shied away from what he couldn’t help seeing more and more as the inevitable. And when the inevitable came, it would be that much more difficult for both of them.
As he thought that, he reached the doors to the security section. They slid apart in front of him and revealed an anteroom manned by two armed officers, Garner and Pierzynski. The officers inclined their heads and acknowledged him by name.
“Carry on,” Joseph said, feeling a little silly.
Garner and Pierzynski were full lieutenants just as he was. And as soon as the captain found a permanent security chief, Joseph would be standing guard alongside them.
Beyond the anteroom lurked the hexagonal main security facility, where an officer named Horombo was sitting in front of a huge, concave bank of closed-circuit video screens. Each one showed him a different, strategically important portion of the ship—the bridge, engineering, the transporter room, and so on.
“Chief,” said Horombo, sparing him a glance.
“Horombo,” Joseph responded.
He proceeded across the hexagon to its opposite side, where an open doorway provided access to a short corridor. His office was located farther down that corridor. So was the Stargazer’s armory, which stood opposite his door and contained every phaser on the ship that wasn’t currently in use somewhere.
The other doors that opened on the corridor led to a weapons diagnostics room, a weapons repair room, a target range and a storeroom full of communicators, palmlights, and other gear often needed by Stargazer away teams.
Joseph was so dull-witted and bleary-eyed from lack of sleep that he almost passed the diminutive figure hunched over a table in the diagnostics area without noticing him. Taking a step backward, he peered inside the room and saw that it was Obal seated there.
“Obal?” he ventured.
The Binderian turned to him. “Good morning, sir.”
Joseph didn’t get it. “You’re not on duty for another six hours,” he pointed out.
“True,” Obal responded. “But I felt my time would be spent more wisely here in security.”
The security chief could hardly object to such zeal. “So you’ve been . . . what? Testing the accuracy of our ordnance?”
The Binderian smiled at him. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s admirable,” Joseph told him, “if unnecessary. Chief Ang made sure that was done before he left.”
“In that case,” Obal said cheerfully, “Chief Ang must have had something else on his mind at the time.”
Joseph looked at him. “What do you mean?”
The Binderian held up the type-1 phaser in his hand. “This unit as well as several others exhibit targeting inaccuracies.”
The security chief was understandably skeptical. He held out his hand and said, “May I?”
“Of course.” Obal turned the phaser over to him.
Joseph placed it in the diagnostic device, closed the cover on it, and checked the digital readouts. Sure enough, the targeting mechanism was off—if only by a few hundredths of a millimeter.
“As I said,” Obal noted, “there are inaccuracies.”
Joseph turned to him and smiled. “Not serious ones, mind you. But I’ll give you credit for finding any at all.”
The Binderian inclined his head. “Thank you, sir.”
“Now we’ve got to fix this thing. Why don’t you—”
“Actually,” Obal piped up, “that won’t be necessary. I’ve already made all the necessary corrections, sir.”
“You have?”
Obal nodded. “At least with regard to the type-one and type-two devices. I have yet to test the rifles.”
Joseph looked at him. “You can’t mean all the type-ones and type-twos.”
“On the contrary, sir. That’s exactly what I mean.”
“But . . . between the type-ones and the type-twos, there are more than sixty phasers.”
“Sixty-four, to be exact, sir.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Not at all,” Obal assured him.
The security chief chuckled appreciatively. “And you weren’t even scheduled