The Big Black Mark - A. Bertram Chandler [4]
"Then there are the engines, sir."
"The engines? What about them?"
"The chief has taken down both inertial drive-units. There're bits and pieces strewn all over the engine room deck."
"Was the port captain informed of this immobilization?"
"Er, no, sir."
"And why not?"
"I didn't know what the chief had done until he'd already done it."
"In the captain's absence you were the officer in charge. You should have known. All right, all right, the chief should have come to you first. Apparently he didn't. But as soon as you knew that this rustbucket was immobile you should have reported it."
"I—I suppose I should, sir."
"You suppose! Why didn't you?"
A sullen flush spread over the grayish pallor of Brabham's face. He blurted, "Like the rest of us in this ship, MacMorris has been in quite enough trouble of various kinds. I didn't want to get him into any more. Sir."
Grimes repressed a sigh. It was obvious that this ship was a closed shop, manned by the No Hopers' Union, whose members would close ranks against any threatened action by higher authority, no matter how much they bickered among themselves. And what was he, Grimes? A No Hoper or a pillar of the Establishment? In his heart of hearts, which side was he on? While he was sorting out a reply to make to Brabham a familiar bugle call, amplified, drifted through and over the ship's PA system.
Brabham shifted uneasily in his chair.
"Are you coming down to lunch, sir?" he asked.
"No," decided Grimes. "You carry on down, and you can ask—no, tell—Miss Russell to send me some sandwiches and a pot of coffee up here. After lunch I shall see Lieutenant Commander MacMorris, Miss Russell, and Mr. Flannery, in that order. Then I shall see you again.
"That is all."
Chapter 3
It was the little blonde stewardess, Sally, who brought up Grimes's lunch. While he was eating it she set about stripping Tallis' calendars from the bulkheads, performing this task with a put-upon air and a great deal of waste motion. Grimes wondered if she had made the sandwiches and the coffee in the same sullenly slapdash way. No, he decided after the first nibble, the first sip. She must have gone to considerable trouble with the simple meal. Surely all the available bread could not have been as stale as the loaf that had been used. Surely it must have been much harder to spread butter so extremely thinly than in the normal manner. And where had she found that stringy, flavorless cold mutton? The coffeepot must have been stood in cold water to bring its weak contents to the correctly tepid stage.
"Will that be all? Sir?" she asked, her arms full of calendars.
"Yes," Grimes told her, adding, "Thank you," not that she deserved it. He decided that he would tell Miss Russell to let him have a male steward to look after him. Obviously this girl would give proper service only to those who serviced her, and she was too coarse, too shop-soiled for his taste, apart from the obvious disciplinary considerations.
Almost immediately after she was gone there was a knock at the door. A big man entered. He was clad in filthy, oil-soaked overalls. A smear of black grease ran diagonally across his hard, sullen face. More grease was mixed with his long, unruly yellow hair. His hot blue eyes glared down at Grimes.
"Ye wanted to see me, Captain? I'm a busy man, not like some I could mention."
"Lieutenant Commander MacMorris?"
"Who else?"
"Commander MacMorris, I understand that this ship is immobilized."
"Unless ye intend to take her up on reaction drive, she is that."
"By whose authority?" demanded Grimes coldly.
"Mine, o' course. Both the innies was playin' up on the homeward passage. So I'm fixin' 'em."
"Didn't you inform the first lieutenant before you started taking them down? He was in charge, in the absence of a captain."
"Inform him? He looks after whatever control room ornaments look after. I look after my engine room."
"As long as I'm captain