Michael did a thorough check of his instruments and detected no faults or leaks.
"Charlie, will you oversee the bridge and controls until after I have spoken to the crew?"
"Do I not count as crew then?"
"With respect I do not think you need to hear what I have to say. I assume that you, being an Executive Officer of the Company, already know the nature of our mission.”
Charlotte looked puzzled. "Well….no, not exactly. We were all told that this was initially a trip to Ceres and that it was a special Mission to be run on a military type basis. I thought it might be exploration seeing that you are a specialist in that kind of work."
Sir Richard certainly knew how to keep a secret. He thought hard but could not remember telling her anything specific. Another thought occurred to him. "Why did you go to so much trouble to find so many members of my former crew if you did not know the nature of the mission?"
Charlotte looked hurt. “I simply thought that it would be a comfort to you and to them, for that matter, to work together again they know all the ropes. There's nothing sinister in that is there? My job is to look after the personnel of this Company and efficiency is enhanced if the crew can work in harmony, that way it is good for all concerned. Have I done something dreadful Captain?"
"No, not at all, you have unwittingly been a great help.”
The bridge was now cleared of all personnel except for the two pilots. "Charlie, I am going to tell you the situation as I know it. You have added two and two together and made five. Our mission is nothing whatsoever to do with exploration or anything else remotely pleasant. The truth is that the Company has lost two vessels in mysterious circumstances. Our mission, quite simply, is to find out what happened."
Charlotte had gone very pale. "Which two vessels?” she asked quietly.
"The Hercules and the Titan, said Michael gently.
“Captain Collins and Captain Gorrie.” She was obviously very distressed. "Were there any survivors?"
"None were found, but we must not give up hope yet.”
Charlotte sobbed quietly for a moment, then, with a great effort, she pulled herself together and dried her eyes. "Thanks for telling me Michael, I realize now why you were so upset to see me. When you spoke of harm coming to me earlier I thought you were just being melodramatic. I realize that I would not be much good in a fight but I will do my best never to let you down, no matter what the circumstances are."
“There will be some drilling done enroute to help us protect ourselves in case we need to," said Michael. “As you are such a good pilot then that will be your job and I'II do the fighting."
Michael left the bridge and went to his quarters to prepare for the inspection. He scrubbed and shaved himself then changed into his best boots and uniform. He had made a poor entry by falling flat on his backside in front of the crew: that loss of face would have to be made up.
He did not consider himself to be a fanatic on perfect turn out but he certainly encouraged it and there were limits which he simply would not accept. The uniform was a good way to get them to start thinking in a military way. Most of them knew the ropes anyway: they had already served with him for years.
Feeling and looking like a Commander now, Michael stepped on to the bridge at precisely the correct moment. The First Officer called the Parade to attention then stepped forward and saluted the Captain smartly. "Parade ready for inspection, Sir."
Michael returned the salute. “Thank you Mr. Rimmer, we will proceed. Carry on," he said formally.
Michael was astounded and disappointed that Benjamin Rimmer did not have a Command of his own. He was an expert pilot, fully qualified and very experienced. He deserved much better than an appointment as First Officer. However Michael was grateful to have him; loyal and dependable men were never easy to find.
The inspection was cursory; it did not need to be anything more. The turn out was immaculate but the veterans of the service had that indefinable edge on the Company men. “They would soon learn,” he thought.
“Stand the Parade at ease, please, Mr. Rimmer. I wish to meet the men individually.”
The Parade stood at ease on the command. Michael stepped over to the first man who sprang to attention, took one pace forward and saluted.
”David Boothman, Sir, Second Officer.” He was about twenty-two years old and probably the youngest on the crew. Everybody knew that age did not always count when it came to ability and this youngster seemed to be alert and keen.
“Pleased to have you aboard Mr. Boothman,” replied the Captain. "How long have you been with the Company?"
"Six years, Sir. They took me through their Officer Training Course which I finished two years ago. Postings are not easily come by.”
"Is that why you volunteered for this trip?" asked Michael
“One of the reasons, Sir. You have to gain experience wherever you can. Another reason is because this trip is going to be different. It isn't routine and that attracts me as well.”
Michael smiled to himself; the young man liked the element of danger, just like he, himself, used to. "Are you a pilot. Mr. Boothman?”
“Pilot first class on conventional rockets and an advanced student on the C.A.M.I.D. powered craft, Sir."
The Captain turned to the First Officer. “Mr. Rimmer, I will need every pilot I can get on this trip. Work with Mr. Boothman and let's see if we can qualify him before we reach our destination.”
“Very good, Sir.”
The young Officer was very pleased and he took one pace backwards and saluted. Michael grinned and returned it.
The second crew-man was aged about thirty-five. Michael studied him closely; he looked to be an extremely intelligent and calm man. It was obvious that he had not seen any military service, so he must have been a long standing Company employee. There was no reluctance or embarrassment when he offered his compliments, he was just a little awkward...not used to it.
"Neville Johnson, Communications Officer, Sir.” His voice was quiet and cultured but very correct. Here was a very articulate man.
“I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance Mr. Johnson. I would be grateful if you would spend a little time with me and show me the 'ins' and 'outs' of the Company radios. They installed one in my Shuttle and I nearly deafened the poor fellow at Moonbase.”
"That's very easily done, Sir. It's the purity of the signal. These radios are extremely efficient. I helped to design the scrambling system on them and we did a few modifications on the conventional side as well."
“You're an electronics man then, Mr. Johnson?”
“Yes, Sir, it's a fascinating topic.”
“You could be a very useful man to have on board,” said Michael, who was already formulating plans for him.
There was nothing awkward about the next man. He was the epitome of a military man, ramrod smart and proud of it.
“Archie Murphy, Engineering Officer, Sah.” he said in a loud voice.
Michael remained formal even though he wanted to slap him on the back. Archie had been a staunch, skilled and loyal Officer in all three of his previous Commands: he was a wizard with anything appertaining to space craft construction. More than that, he was a ferocious fighter which was in keeping with his Irish temperament. His curious name had come about because his Mother, who was Scottish had insisted on having a Scottish first name.
“Been with the Company long, Mr. Murphy?"
“Nearly a week now, Sah, " he replied. “My first job in eighteen months."
"I thought you were still in the Forces."
“Not the same after you left, Sah. A lot of us resigned shortly after you did.” It seemed that the Service had paid heavily for its imprudence.
"Well thanks for signing on for this trip, Mr. Murphy. I'll do my best to keep you busy.”
The next crewman to step up was the one who had caused all the commotion when the Captain had first boarded the ship.
”Arnold Sidebottom, Captain's Coxswain, Sir.”
“Still as insolent as ever, Mr. Sidebottom?” grinned Michael.
"Don't know what you mean, Sir,” lied the Coxswain.
There was obviously a very strong bond between the two. The Coxswain was a big, powerful bull of a man, about ten years older than the Captain. They had originally served together in the Pegasus and Mr. Sidebottom, then a private crewman, had been a great help in putting down the riot in the break- out of prisoners. He had fought alongside Michael and had done much to protect his back.
When Michael had been given the Ajax it was customary for a new Captain to choose his own Coxswain, which was a privileged position. The Coxswain was the Captain's keeper and bodyguard. He accompanied him on visits to other vessels and frequently chauffeured the Captain whenever circumstances allowed. He looked after the personal needs of the Captain, mundane essential things like clean laundry, meals, dressing and was frequently the subject of abuse when Captains became irate.
Michael had chosen Arnold Sidebottom and had never regretted it. What he did regret was the fact that he had lost touch with men like these over the past two years.
“I hope you are not going to continue to nag me all the way to the Asteroids and back,” growled the Captain with mock anger.
“Well, you do look a bit out of shape, Sir,” complained Arnold. “You obviously have not been eating properly.”
“Thank you Mr. Sidebottom. We will discuss it later.”
The next man stepped forward. "Roy Naylor, Sir, Cook and Quartermaster.”
“Good to have you aboard again, Mr. Naylor. Mr. Sidebottom seems to think that I have been eating too well. I’m sure you will change all that,” he said mischievously.
“Indeed, Sir, I have been working on a low calorie vegetarian diet for the crew and I have stocked the bars with non-alcoholic beers. This should keep the crew fit, happy and healthy, Sir,” lied the Cook.
Ron Naylor had been the assistant Cook in the Vega and Chief Cook in the Orion. He was a high class chef and could have earned vast sums of money in the Private Sector but he had always stuck to the frugal limitations of the service and now here he was again, off into space aged fifty.
Michael eyed him fiercely, "If that is the case, Mr. Naylor, we are very likely to end up cooking and eating you.”
The Cook just grinned, but there was a positive look of relief on the faces of the Company men.
The Captain moved along the line. Another very military man presented himself.
"Crewman Frank Brody, Sir.”
“Sergeant Brody, I never expected to see you on a merchant vessel.”
“Not a sergeant any more, Sir. just a crewman."
“Well we will have to alter that straight away. This mission is to be run on a military basis and I will need a Sergeant. Mr. Rimmer, please see that Mr. Brody is entered in the log as 'Sergeant'. Mr. Brody you will see that skinflint of a quartermaster after this parade and pick up some chevrons. If he has not got any tell him that I say he is to make some.”
“Thank you, Sir, but that will not be necessary; I never go anywhere without my chevrons, you never know when you're going to need them.”
“Good to hear that you still hold on to your old 'Boy Scout' ideal of being 'Always Prepared'….. get them sewn on.” He passed on to the next man.
“Crewman Gary Mitchell, Sir."
“Well, this is a surprise, Mr. Mitchell, and a pleasant one at that. Did you resign with the others?"
“I did, Sir, couldn't work for anyone else they were sloppy, Sir, no standards," moaned Mitchell.
“Are you going to try and get some promotion this time, Mr Mitchell?
“No, I don't think so, Sir. I'd rather be a crewman with you than Admiral of the Fleet, Sir."
Michael felt flattered, but he knew Gary Mitchell very well. He had turned down all kinds of promotion just to stay with him. He had joined the Ajax in the third year of Michael's command. There had been some trouble on another ship. Two crew members had ganged up on Mitchell who had been falsely accused of stealing a sum of money from one of them.
They had foolishly attacked him, knowing that he was normally a quiet, introverted man and easy prey. They were wrong: it had taken Mitchell about thirty seconds to render them both unconscious, one with a broken jaw, two broken fingers and a dislocated elbow, the other with three broken ribs a broken nose and a fractured collar bone. He, himself, had not even sustained a bruise. Mitchell had then surrendered himself to the Captain and had meekly allowed himself to be secured in a room to await trial for assault.
He was transferred to the Ajax to appear before Captain Stephens who represented Authority as the Senior Military Captain. Mitchell had been brought in handcuffed by his ship's Captain and two other crewmen; he had also been treated quite roughly enroute. They were, in reality, scared to death of him. Captain Stephens was livid with their treatment of him and ordered the handcuffs to be removed.
“Mitchell had simply stood to attention and thanked the Captain for his concern. During the rigorous questioning of the three men it came about that one of his accusers had stolen from his friend and tried to blame it on Mitchell. Captain Stephens could find no guilt in what Mitchell had done, being a fighting man himself. Mitchell could have easily killed them both, but he had stopped when he had immobilized the pair of them and he had not been the original aggressor. He sentenced the thief to two years in the Martian Penal Colony and the other to six months for assault. A hefty sentence, but it had been a conspiracy to pervert the course of justice.
Afterwards, Captain Stephens had interviewed Mitchell very closely and had recognized a good potential soldier. The Ajax was a crewman down on account of a broken arm, so Mitchell had been offered the vacant position. He joined up, did his training with the crew and had been a first class crewman ever since. Mitchell could be absolutely ruthless when the situation required it and had become a specialist in sabotage and explosives. He had always been grateful to Captain Stephens for the chance he had been given.
“I may be needing your specialist knowledge on this trip, Mr. Mitchell," said Michael.
"You'll have it, Sir."
Compliments were exchanged and Michael moved on to the next man. He was greeted by a cheerful well-proportioned giant, probably of West Indian origin.
"Henry Hirst, crewman first class, Sir,” he said without a trace of accent.
Michael greeted him warmly, looked him up and down and liked what he saw. 'I'm very pleased that you are on our side, Mr. Hurst,” he grinned. “What is your specialty?”
“Packing and stowing of cargo, Sir.”
“You are familiar with the operation of the systems in this vessel, Mr. Hurst?"
“Yes, Sir, I have worked on these craft for ten years now.”
"Good, you will have to give me a little instruction in the secrets of the system. They are all very new to me,”
Henry stepped back into line feeling quite proud. A Captain had never asked him for help before and he trusted Michael all the more for being open. The final crewman stepped forward.
“Alfred Brown, Sir, Maintenance Crewman."
Alfred was about thirty years old and a North Country man. "Is the ship in good condition, Mr. Brown?”
“Yes, Sir, I have not had chance to do a thorough inspection yet, but what I have seen is good.”
"Your first job will be to accompany Mr. Murphy and check every last nut and bolt on the vessel. We will be executing a Sun grazing manoeuvre at very high speed, so I do not want any mechanical or structural failures. Remember, Mr. Murphy is a First class Engineering Officer with many years experience behind him, but we have not worked these type of craft before, so we are counting on you Company men for information to save a lot of time.”
“You can count on me, Sir.”
“Thank you, Mr. Brown.”
The Parade was over, the introductions had been made. First Officer Rimmer called the Parade to attention, compliments were exchanged for the last time, then the Parade was stood at ease so the Captain could address the crew.
Michael began his address. “Gentlemen, I am sure you are anxious to know the nature of our mission, so I will not keep you in suspense any longer. The situation is this. Two Company vessels have gone missing in mysterious circumstances.” He paused to let his words sink in. The Company men were visibly shocked, the professional soldiers never batted an eyelid.
“No wreckage has been found, there were no warnings or distress signals. These vessels simply disappeared along with their crews. Our mission is not to speculate but to find out exactly what happened,” said Michael forcefully.
“The plan is simple, we are setting ourselves up as shark bait. I want whatever is out there to attack us. The difference is we will be prepared and expecting them. The other vessels were taken by surprise. We must not allow that to happen. I have deliberately not mounted external weapons, they would be spotted too easily. However I have brought on board a small arsenal of hand weapons. Every crew member, including myself and Miss Linaker, will do weapons training with Sergeant Brody. I consider us to be on a full combat mission and there may very well be hand to hand fighting. Therefore every member of the crew, myself included will get themselves fit and attend combat sessions with Mr. Sidebottom, my Coxswain."
Michael looked at their faces. This was a good crew, they were already set to go and seemed to believe in the mission... eager for it. The problems would occur later when the initial euphoria had worn off and when the determination had waned a little. He had to keep them busy.
“Any questions?” asked Michael.
“Yes, Sir.” It was Neville Johnson. "Do you wish me to make the regular twelve hour communication to Company H.Q.?"
“Yes, please, I want everything to be as routine as possible. Important messages can be sent any time on the scrambler. A post is manned twenty- four hours a day specifically for this mission. In fact, you can report that we have made our rendezvous as planned Any more questions?"
"Yes, Sir." This time it was Frank Brody.
“What is it, Sergeant?”
"When do we start?”
"Orders will be posted as soon as I have consulted with Mr. Rimmer. Mr. Johnson and Mr. Mitchell would you please take over duties on the bridge with Miss Linaker. Mr. Naylor, perhaps you could rustle up some food, we're all starving."
“Yes, Sir."
"Sergeant Brody and Mr. Sidebottom, check out the weapons in the metal chest and familiarize yourselves with the different types... here are the keys. The rest may stand down until full orders are issued. Mr. Rimmer. ..”
"Yes, Sir.”
“Dismiss the Parade.”
The Parade was formally dismissed and the First Officer followed the Captain to his quarters.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Come in, Ben, it's good to see you again.”
“Thank you, Sir, it's good to be here," he replied. “Drink?”
“Yes, please, if you are having one, a beer would go down nicely,” replied Ben. Michael beckoned to a chair and Ben took his hat off and sat down. The drinks were soon poured. Michael lifted his glass.
“To a successful mission.” They touched glasses. “You’II have to bring me up to date on the gossip, I have been locked away on Moonbase Delta for two years. Did you resign your Commission, Ben?"
"Er… not exactly, Sir."
“How do you mean not exactly? Come on Ben, what happened to you?" asked Michael.
“I was dismissed the Service, Sir…. in disgrace."
“What on Earth happened?"
“When the new Admiral was appointed, I went to plead your case and I told him the whole story; the complete version with nothing left out and asked if he would help with this obvious sighting of a strange craft.”
“Did he react quickly, Ben?”
“I’ll say he did. The next day I found myself in front of a full Court Martial for a severe breach of the Official Secrets Act. I was convicted and received two sentences. Firstly, I served six months in a Martian Penal Colony and I was given another twelve months sentence which would have to be served before I was brought to Court If there was a repeat of the Offence. When I was released I was dismissed the Service without a pension I might add.”
Michael looked away, horrified at the treatment his friend and loyal Officer had received. “How did you get this posting, Ben?"
"I was simply kicking my heels, wasting time and without any hope of a future. It isn't easy for a convicted criminal to get employment of any kind, let alone a position of responsibility. Then a week ago a courier of the Company arrived at the front door with a letter which simply said...if you wish to undertake an unusual mission under the Command of a new Company Captain, contact Charlotte Linaker in person at the above address as soon as possible.
I had no money and no hope of getting any. I was in a pretty poor state and could not even afford to get myself to the Company H.Q. Fortunately a neighbour allowed me to telephone and I spoke to Miss Linaker and explained what my circumstances were and why. She asked did I want to be First Officer in a Company vessel.
Well it was like manna from heaven to me and I accepted on the spot. One hour later a jet shuttle arrived from the Company with a security man who gave me a full uniform, kit and a salary advance, enough to clear my debts and a bit to spare. I reported for duty the same day and here I am. We found out it was you in command just before the rendezvous, though I must admit I had wondered when I saw the other crew members. Was it your idea, Sir?"
"No, I had nothing to do with it. Miss Linaker is Head of Personnel for the Company. She is a very special person and an Executive Officer. He has not said so, but I believe that Sir Richard thinks that the vessel which we sighted is responsible for his two missing ships. What do you think, Ben?"
"I don't know, Sir, but there seemed to be no air of menace about it. The pilot seemed more timid than aggressive."
"We were very heavily armed on both occasions, the two missing ships were not. Perhaps that encouraged his timidity?" observed Michael.
"Maybe...but I did not get that gut feeling you normally get when you are menaced. No.. I don't think that craft was really malevolent. It may very well have the capability to destroy, but I still did not feel threatened."
"I tend to agree with you, "replied Michael, "But we must keep an open mind on the subject. Now we must concentrate on our pressing day to day routine matters.”
The two friends sat down together and drew up a triple watch system, four in a team working eight hour duties. That did not mean that you got sixteen hours free time. The second list consisted of a gruelling six hour session of arms and combat training interspersed with space and battle drills.
“This will do us until we get beyond the orbit of Mars, but then we will go on to a double watch system, working six hours on and six hours off,” said the Captain. “I will want visual lookouts posted twenty-four hours a day equipped with night binoculars. Can you work on that, Ben, between now and then. I do not intend to call inspections every day but I will give advance notice when I need to speak to the crew as an entity. We will treat those occasions as inspections.
“Anything else, Captain?"
“Just one last thing. I will need everybody on duty at fifteen hundred hours tomorrow. We will be executing an acceleration manoeuvre and course correction that will bring us just outside the orbit of Mercury. It will be pretty hot for a couple of days so we will have to put as much speed on as possible. Organize the Engineering Officer and the Maintenance Crewman to do a thorough inspection of the craft before then and to consult with me if they find any problems. Ask them to pay particular attention to the insulation, we are going to need it.”
The cabin door buzzer sounded. Michael opened it with a button on his desk. It was his Coxswain with a covered plate.
“Looks like dinner time, Sir,” said Ben with a smile. I’ll post the orders then get a bite to eat myself."
“Alright. ...thank you, Mr. Rimmer,” said the Captain formally. "Carry on.” Michael turned to the Coxswain, "I hope you have not come here to fuss me."
“Indeed I have, Sir," beamed Arnie, looking like a man who had been looking for silver and found gold. "I'll just set up your dinner table over here.”
It smelt good. Michael realized that he was very hungry indeed. The Cook had prepared two lamb chops, roast potatoes, green beans and thick gravy. There was a fresh fruit salad to follow with a liberal portion of ice cream. Arnie set everything out like a professional waiter and produced a crystal cut, glass goblet which he filled with a sparkling white wine from an individual bottle which he had previously placed in the cooler.
Michael gave in quite willingly and sat down and ate in a relaxed manner. Experience had taught that good food was essential on long space flights. In the early days nutrition had been done on a carefully calculated and balanced diet of fluids and capsules which was alright for a while, but had given rise to some unexpected side effects. Scurvy, a disease so common on the old sailing ships, had broken out on some long exploration flights, crewmen's hair and teeth had started to drop out. Hormones had become unbalanced but the worst and most debilitating aspects were the psychosomatic ailments.
Some crewmen started to get fixations about food. The thought of a real steak, or an apple, or an orange became such a craving that the crewman could eventually think of nothing else. In some it became so severe that they suffered a mental seizure and retreated into a deep fugue and eventually starved to death.
Psychologists had eventually concluded that eating was such a fundamental necessity to life that it should not be compromised.
Therefore, at great expense, the space ships had been converted from a galley which looked like an advanced chemistry set to an ordinary kitchen with proper food. Morale had been immediately improved and the incidence of sickness had fallen dramatically amongst crew members.
It was a contented Captain Stephens who sank his teeth into the juicy chops and a contented Coxswain who fussed about unpacking and storing the belongings of his Lord and Master. The trouble, if any, could wait a little longer. After his dinner Michael dismissed his Coxswain with orders to wake him in eight hours then wrote up the daily log. He turned in and was soon in a deep restful sleep. It felt good to be back in space again.