The Big Black Mark - A. Bertram Chandler [92]
"Mutineers have no rights," stated Delamere.
"Human beings have!" retorted Grimes. "And don't forget that we, on this world, are ambassadors of the Federation. We've made a bad enough impression already. Don't let's make it worse."
"Who cares?" asked Delamere.
"Every do-gooder and bleeding heart in the galaxy, that's who. I've often hated that breed myself—but I'll have no hesitation in, making use of them."
The two commanders glared at each other, and then Delamere turned to one of his officers. "You might see that the prisoners have some rags to cover their disgusting nakedness, Mr. Fleming. And you can sort out the cows from the goats and have them penned separately."
"Thank you," said Brabham—to Grimes. Then, "How long are they keeping us here, Captain?"
"Until we've converted Discovery's holds into palatial quarters for you bastards!" snarled Delamere.
Grimes turned away.
He could not help feeling sorry for those who had abandoned him in a hopeless situation. They were guilty of a crime for which there could be no forgiveness, let alone pardon, and yet . . . on this planet they had been given the second chance to make something of their hitherto wasted lives. They could have become useful citizens. Botany Bay would have benefited from their knowledge of different technologies.
"I'm going aboard now," said Delamere.
"I'm not," said Grimes. "We have things to discuss."
"They can wait."
He walked slowly into the tree-lined street—which, at last, was becoming alive with dazed-looking citizens. He hoped that nobody would recognize him. But somebody did. His way was blocked by a man in a light blue shorts-and-shirt uniform.
"Commander Grimes?"
"Yes?"
"Don't you remember me? I'm Benny Jones, skipper o' Flyin' Cloud."
Grimes remembered the airship captain, had taken a flight in the big dirigible. And he knew, too, that their man was Vinegar Nell's husband. No wonder he looked almost out of his mind with worry.
"Nell's a fine person, Commander. She came straight with me. She told me all sorts of things that she had no need to. I—I know about you an' her. An' so what? But are you goin' to stand back an' let her be dragged away to be—to be—"
"I—I don't have much choice in the matter, Skipper."
"I know yer don't. You have ter take yer orders from the bastards above yer. But—Look, Commander. You know the sort o' routine they have aboard that bastard ship that's ruinin' the turf in the Oval. I'm told that you're in her just as an adviser. Can't yer be an adviser to—All right. To me?"
I owe Nell something, thought Grimes, pulling his pipe out from his pocket, and looking at it. I owe her a lot. And there was nothing that she could have done to stop the mutiny—but that won't save her from the spacewalk along with the others. She saved me from a spacewalk.
"I take it that you want to rescue Nell, Skipper."
"Wot the bloody hell else? But how? But how?"
But how? Grimes asked himself. He began to see the glimmerings of an answer. He thought that the chemists on Botany Bay might already, after the salutary lesson of that morning, be working on it. And Brandt, after his long residence at the university, would be on intimate terms with the local scientists. Brandt, too, had always made it plain that he had no time for Survey Service regulations.
But he, Grimes . . . ? When it came to the crunch where did his loyalties lie? To his Service, or to an ex-mistress?
Certainly not, he decided, to the obnoxious Delamere. He said, as he slowly filled his pipe, "We may be able to do something, Skipper. But only for Nell. Only for Nell. Shall we take a stroll to the university?"
Chapter 44
They found Brandt without any trouble. The scientist was unchanged, as irascible as ever. He demanded, "What is going on here, Commander Grimes? A dawn attack on our world by a Federation warship—"
"Our world, Doctor?"
"Yes. I'm married now,