The Big Black Mark - A. Bertram Chandler [69]
She said, "I shall miss yer, Skip."
"And I you."
"But when yer gotter go, yer gotter go. That's the way of it, ain't it?"
"Too right it is. Unluckily."
"Yer boys don't wanter go. Nor yer sheilas."
"There is such a thing as duty, you know."
"Duty be buggered. Ships have vanished without trace, as yer know bloody well. No one knows yer here."
"They'd soon guess. If there were any sort of flap about Discovery's going missing, then Captain Davinas—the master of Sundowner I was telling you about—would soon spill his beans. And the Survey Service can be very vicious regarding the penalty of mutiny and similar crimes. I've no desire to be pushed out of the airlock, in Deep Space without a spacesuit."
"You mean they'd do that to yer?"
"Too bloody right, they would."
"An' I'm not worth takin' the risk for. But you sort of explode in a vacuum, don't yer? All right. I see yer point."
"I didn't think that there was enough light," said Grimes, looking down at her dimly visible nudity.
She laughed. "I didn't mean that. But seein' as how the subject has risen. For the third time, ain't it?"
"Third time lucky," murmured Grimes.
* * *
Liftoff had been set for 1200 hours the following day. As on the day of landing the stands were crowded, and the brave, blue flags were flying from every pole. Two of the big dirigibles cruised slowly in a circle above the Oval. Their captains would extend the radius before Discovery began to lift.
There were no absentees from the ship at departure time, although it was certain that many of her complement would have liked to have missed their passage. Grimes was the last man up the ramp. At the foot of the gangway he shook hands with Brandt, with the mayors of the city-states. He had intended that his farewell to Mavis would be no more than a formal handshake, but her intentions were otherwise. He felt her mouth on his for the last time. When he pulled away he saw a tear glistening in the corner of her eye.
He marched stiffly up the ramp, which retracted as soon as he was in the airlock. He rode the elevator up to control. In the control room he went to his chair, strapped himself in. He looked at the telltale lights on his console. Everything was ready. His hand went out to the inertial drive start button.
Discovery growled, shook herself. (Growl you may, but go you must!) She shuddered, and from below came the unrhythmic rattle of loose fittings. She heaved herself off the grass. In the periscope screen Grimes could see a great circular patch of dead growth to mark where she had stood, with three deep indentations where the vanes had dug into the sod. He wondered, briefly when it would be possible to play a cricket match in the Oval again.
"Port Paddington to Discovery," came a voice from the speaker of the NST transceiver, "you know where we live now. Come back as soon as yer like. Over."
"Thank you," said Grimes. "I hope I shall be back."
"Look after yourself, Skip!" It was Mavis' voice.
"I'll try," he told her. "And you look after yourself."
She had the sense to realize that Grimes would be, from now on, fully occupied with his pilotage. But it was an easy ascent. There was little wind at any level, no turbulence. The old ship, once she had torn herself clear from the surface, seemed glad to be heading back into her natural element. After not very long, with trajectory set for Lindisfarne Base, Grimes was free to go below.
In his cabin he got out a message pad. He wrote: Davinas, d/s/s Sundowner. Happy Anniversary. John. He took it down to the radio officer on duty. He said, "I'd like this away as soon as possible. It might just catch him in time. On Botany Bay I rather lost track of the Standard Date."
"Didn't we all, sir?" The young man yawned. No doubt he had a good excuse for being tired, but his manner was little short of insolent. "Through the