The Big Black Mark - A. Bertram Chandler [86]
Local girl makes good, thought Grimes—and then his wry amusement abruptly faded. Vinegar Nell, no less than the other mutineers, was a criminal, and would be arrested, and tried, and would pay the penalty for her crime.
"Talkin' of Discovery," the news reader went on, "Commander Brabham has informed us that it would be unwise for him to attempt to send a message to his Base on Lindisfarne. Such a signal, he says, would be picked up and decoded by the monitors of the Empire of, Waverley. He says that his instructions are to stay here until relieved. Unless he's relieved soon his ship'll be growing roots, an' more of his crew will be followin' the good example o' the fair Miss Russell."
There followed a shot of Discovery. This time she was not berthed in the middle of the Oval. Grimes recognized the site, however. It was in a field to the west of the airport The people of Paddington could hardly be expected to cancel their cricket fixtures a second time.
"There's your precious ship, Commander," sneered Delamere. "What a rustbucket!"
"Meanwhile—I hate ter have ter say it, but it's true—not all of Discovery's people are endearin' themselves to us. Her Marines—who should have provided a guard of honor at the weddin'—are all in jail, even their commandin' officer, Major Swinton. It seems they went on a bender last night. As luck would have it we had a camera crew at the Red Kangaroo, to get some shots o' the new floor show there. There was a floor show all right—o' the wrong kind."
A picture of a large, garishly decorated room filled the screen. Seated around a big oval table were the Marines, including Swinton and Washington. The tabletop was covered with bottles and glasses. Swinton got unsteadily to his feet "Where's the music?" he bawled. "Where's the dancing girls? We were told there'd be both in this dump!"
"We'll provide our own, Major!" yelled one of his men. "Come on, now! All of yer!"
"We're the hellhounds o' the galaxy,
We're the toughest ever seen!
Ain't no one fit ter wipe the arse
Of an FSS Marine!"
"Gentlemen, please!" It was the manager, a thin, worried looking man. "The floor show's about ter start."
"Stuff yer floor show, an' you with it!" The man who had started the singing swung viciously with his right, and the manager crumpled to the floor. Then half a dozen tough-looking waiters were converging on the scene. The Marines picked up bottles by their necks, smashed them on the edge of the table, held them like vicious, jagged daggers. The waiters hesitated, then snatched up chairs, not caring whom they spilled in the process. People were throwing things. A missile of some kind struck Swinton on the forehead, felling him. Someone yelled, "Get the Terry bastards!" Women screamed. The waiters, reinforced by customers, holding their chairs before them as a protection from the broken bottles, advanced in-a rush.
It was then that the scene became chaotic—and blanked out abruptly. "That," said the news reader, "was when some bastard put his boot through our camera. Over twenty of our people finished up in the hospital. The condition of the manager o' the Red Roo is critical. An' the Marines, bein' behind bars, missed out on their charmin' shipmate's weddin'. "An' that, folks, is all the news to date."
"Disgusting," said Delamere, somehow implying that it was all Grimes's fault.
"Marines will be Marines," said Grimes. "Not my Marines," Delamere stated smugly. "What are they, then?" Grimes asked interestedly. Delamere ignored this. He said, "I anticipate no difficulties in rounding up this rabble of yours. And now, Mr. Adviser, what do you advise? Don't bother to answer. I've already decided what I am going to do. I shall drop in, unannounced, just after dawn, local time. I shall land close to Discovery, covering her with my guns."
"Discovery has guns too, you know," remarked Grimes. "I shall have the advantage of surprise," said Delamere. "I'll blow her off