Three - Michael Jan Friedman [17]
And if he were still in command of the Ssakojhin, he would have gotten them. That was the way of things in the High Order. Then again, if he were still on the Ssakojhin he wouldn’t have needed new plasma conduits.
Tsioveth spat. “Then I will not be responsible for the crew in the weapons enclosure. If they are [46] steam-cooked like desert tortoises in the Prime One’s cooking hole, so be it.”
For the hundredth time since he took command of the Ekhonarid, Wutor grabbed the mechanic by the arm and drew her close to him—close enough to smell her most recent meal.
“You will be responsible,” he snarled. “Now get back to the weapons deck and do everything in your power to keep those conduits from leaking.”
It was a little game they played, he and Tsioveth. She refused to be held accountable for the ship’s deficiencies, and he denied her the right to do so. Unfortunate, to be sure, but that was how it was in the Middle Order.
With a curl of her lip, the mechanic pulled her arm from Wutor’s grasp. Then she slunk off the bridge into one of the descent compartments.
The commander glanced at his pilot, Jeglen, who had witnessed the exchange with Tsioveth. Apparently, Jeglen knew better than to comment on it. That was good.
After all, Wutor didn’t want to have to get rid of him and look for another pilot. Experienced ones like Jeglen were too hard to come by, especially when the Ekhonarid was all that could be offered them.
Then again, there was such a thing as too much experience. No one was a better example of that than Potrepo, the Ekhonarid’s aged weaponer. Even at an advanced age, he was still eager to fight—but to his superior’s chagrin, his accuracy didn’t always match his enthusiasm.
Turning to the concave screen that filled the forward part of the bridge, Wutor regarded the stars rushing by [47] on either side of them. At this pace, they would reach their destination in less than a day.
That is, he added mentally, if Tsioveth can convince the plasma conduits to stay together.
Vigo was the first to arrive at the elongated, dimly lit testing chamber where Ejanix was scheduled to demonstrate his new phaser emitter.
Even Ejanix hadn’t gotten there yet. However, the weapons officer didn’t mind. It gave him an opportunity to inspect the square, half-meter-thick piece of hull-quality tritanium that had been suspended at one end of the chamber.
At the other end stood a transparent enclosure with an aperture in its front wall about the size of Vigo’s thumbnail. It was through that aperture that Ejanix would unleash the phaser emitter’s powerful energy beam.
Overnight, Vigo had given much thought to his mentor’s behavior. With the specter of armed conflict arising in the quadrant, Ejanix had no doubt been under a lot of pressure to complete his work—and that could have taken a greater toll on him than anyone anticipated.
Normally, an engineer would look forward to an opportunity to show off the fruits of his labor to a group of individuals capable of appreciating them. Ejanix’s comments the night before notwithstanding, maybe he would benefit from a few compliments on the Type Nine.
Vigo sincerely hoped so. It made him uncomfortable to see his mentor in so black a mood.
“Hey, Vigo,” said a voice.
[48] The weapons officer turned and saw Sebring enter the room, Riyyen and Runj right behind him. All three of them joined Vigo at the hanging section of tritanium.
“Time for the dog and pony show,” Sebring remarked.
“Actually,” said Riyyen, “I have seen the Type Nine in action. It is quite impressive.”
Vigo didn’t doubt it. And yet, Ejanix had claimed he wasn’t ready to demonstrate the Type Nine. Was that an accurate assessment, the weapons officer wondered, or merely a measure of his friend’s irritability?
Before he could ponder the question more fully, Ejanix entered the room pushing a large antigrav cart. On it was a meter-long, black plastic container shaped like a Terran beehive, its two halves held together with tritanium bands.
As Vigo and the others watched, Ejanix guided the cart into