Warp Point Page 11

  “Theoretically, but either the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs or the president can overrule him."

  Calvin's thin lips parted in a feeble smile. “And President Berne is a friend or yours."

  “Correct. Of course he's being leaned on every which way. I hear that Hawkins prefers a military chaplain, but the Pope is insisting on having some priests along, so I don't think that'll fly. He'll have to take them and Protestant clergymen, too."

  “How about an Imam? Theoretically, any Muslim can perform what leadership the faithful require, so he may get away with simply naming one of the Muslim crew members or letting them select whomever they choose."

  “They do make it simple, don't they?"

  “In some ways, but you can bet they'll get at least one of the crew who'll be prepped by Grand Imam Ashrah, and you know what he believes."

  “Yes, but we're in a better position than he is, what with having the ship in America. Anyway, I think it's about time to get a march on Washington organized, just to keep Jerry honest."

  “Jerry—oh. President Berne. All right, you have my approval. Whatever it is we find among the stars, we're obligated to send missionaries."

  “I agree, but let's not call them that, eh?"

  Calvin smiled blandly. “I don't think there's a need, so long as we get enough of our people on board. It's too bad so many scientists are non-believers. They'll be the most numerous of the crew, of course. We can't do much about that. What we can do is agitate—but not in public—for scientists who are believers.” He stretched his aching muscles. “Well, it appears that you have the matter under control, so if you don't mind, I think I'll retire. A full day is getting a bit much for these old bones."

  McCoy rose and shook hands with the older man. As he left he began thinking about who should lead the march. Himself? Or would that make him appear too forward when selection time came? Probably so. Smith would be a better choice. He likes the public eye and won't realize that I already have the Ship Chaplain position sewn up.

  * * * *

  “Fools! Fools and impulsive, misguided children! Everyone in the world knows they are the only two who can operate the Messenger, yet they try to assassinate them! Allah has willed it for reasons unfathomable, so we must use them when the moment is propitious, but that time is not yet. Once they have returned the Messenger to Allah so that the faithful may commune with him, then will be the occasion for us."

  King Alhusain forbore mentioning the change in the Grand Imam's attitude. At first he had demanded that only the faithful be allowed access to the Messenger, but now it seemed he would allow the infidels to operate it for the time being, so long as there were some of the faithful aboard who could take command later. “I shall see to it that we have a sufficient number of Islamic representatives aboard, with the proper training to act, when the time comes."

  The Imam nodded and stalked out of the room. The king mused for long moments before his next appointment. He was a believer, of course, but what had Mohammed known of such things as spaceships? Or other solar systems? President Berne was promising the Kingdom a share of any new technology when it became available, but who knew what the spaceship would bring back to Earth? Even if the faithful did manage to take over after the first journey, what could they do then? So far as he knew, the ship was unarmed. Or so it was said. But was it really? Perhaps he should see that an arms specialist was put aboard as well. America was already too powerful militarily. It wouldn't do to have them to gain even more superiority.

  * * *

  Chapter Twelve

  Dan and Stacey were in bed, watching the late news, about the only time they got to see what was going on in the world at large.

  “They had a pretty big turnout,” Stacey remarked, referring to the ‘March for Christ’ organized by the Reverend McCoy.

  “Yeah. You know, one time before I die, I'd like to see a parade of scientists and technologists march past the White House instead of the usual ilk."

  “Dream on, sweetheart. We aren't the type to demonstrate. We'd rather be doing constructive work than out marching and demonstrating."

  “Uh huh. You're right, but I can dream, can't I? And speaking of work, tomorrow's a big day."

  “Are you saying we need to get some sleep?"

  “No. We need some relaxation more than sleep."

  “Mmm. Now that you mention it..."

  A few minutes later Stacey's nightgown had disappeared and she was busily helping her husband relax, even if the sounds he was making were more like those of exertion.

  Later, as she lay against him with her head on his shoulder, Dan said dreamily “I'll bet aliens don't have such a nice way to reproduce. Or go through the motions, anyway."

  “I doubt it, too. And just think, if religions didn't have so much influence, we'd probably be taught techniques in school."

  “But look at the fun we'd miss by learning on our own."

  “There is that. But speaking of aliens, will we really find some?"

  “If we don't, we'll still have a spaceship to play with, so who cares?” He smoothed his hand over the curve of her hip and pulled her closer, thinking it would be nice if there were a few more hours in the night. Unfortunately, tomorrow was a big day. The first crew members would begin moving permanently into the ship and learning to live and work there. Departure was only six weeks away and there was still a tremendous amount of work to be done.

  Just the logistics alone had been an unbelievable chore until Matt had come up with the idea of bringing in some Navy officers and men who had served or were presently serving with a carrier. The logistical techniques of keeping a ship that size running weren't too dissimilar to those needed for the spaceship. Matt had been proven correct, right down to recruiting a former captain of a carrier to teach him some of the leadership techniques of commanding over five thousand men and women working and living in a relatively small area. After only a little thought, Stacey had been made the executive officer despite some criticism of the idea. After all, who else knew so much about the ship and who else besides him could command it? The choice had been obvious so far as he was concerned. The only part of it he thought might be debatable was whether Stacey wouldn't have made a better commander. He thought she would have, but current mores prevailed. The commander of a commissioned ship that might see combat had to be a man. Just the controversy a female commander would have provoked among the foreign contingent made him the logical choice.

  He was still thinking about the prospective crew when he dozed off. During the few remaining hours of the night, he dreamed of the coming voyage, of aliens with odd and frightening shapes and universes where familiar laws were all awry.

  * * * *

  Several cups of coffee got Dan moving the next morning and ready for the conference. At his insistence, the meetings had been increased to twice a week and held in the mornings, while his mind was still fresh, although this particular morning he felt a bit more languid than usual. It's good that I am, he thought. Some toes are going to get stepped on.

  Already, a number of foreign observers and scientists had been approved for the crew. Dan and Stacey both insisted on having a hand in the selection process, even though they couldn't possibly get to know everything necessary about everyone. A large part of the task had to be delegated, which was where the worries came from.

  The day before, Hawkins had asked that they start earlier than usual and keep the meeting private, with him, the Saddlers and Matt and Tara the only ones present. He left it to Dan to bring up the main topic since they had discussed the matter privately the previous day.

  Dan sipped at more coffee and gazed across the table at Matt.

  “Did I not wipe all the egg yoke off this morning?” his friend asked.

  “No, but don't worry about it. How would you feel about heading up the science contingent? We need someone we can trust, and someone smart enough to have a grasp of most of the hard sciences. You come highly recommended."

 
“By whom?"

  “Me and Chet and Stacey. Tara didn't get a vote because she hasn't known you long enough."

  “I know him well enough to tell that he's the smartest one at the table. He reads so much that sometimes I have to...” She stopped abruptly, realizing what she had started to say. Matt had the grace to join her with his own red face.

  Dan laughed. “Maybe Tara does deserve a vote. At any rate, you're nominated, Matt. I should have thought of this long ago. Chet can handle the military and the logistics, but for the scientists, we need someone who talks their language and already has international recognition for their work. You fit the bill in both cases."

  As he gazed across the room, it seemed to Dan that his friend was taking an inordinate amount of time to decide. What he did finally say brought up a subject Dan had been concerned with but hadn't said anything about for fear of being thought overly patriotic or nationalistically minded.

  Matt didn't think he was being modest. He knew as well as they did how intelligent he was and how wide ranging was his knowledge of science in general and his own specialty of astronomy physics specifically.

  “You mentioned speaking the same language as the scientists. How about language in general?"

  “What do you mean, Matt?” Stacey asked, a puzzled expression bringing faint lines to her face.

  “I'm talking about having everyone aboard speak English. If I take the job, I refuse to waste my time trying to interpret as well as administer."

  “We've already decided that question, Matt. English is going to be the common language."

  “I know, but what we call English and what some others call it are two different things. For instance, yesterday I spent fifteen minutes with a lady from India. I know of her by reputation. She's done good work and she's supposed to be able to converse in English, but I couldn't understand one word in three she was saying."

  “What do you want to do about it?” Hawkins asked. Like Dan, he had given some thought to the same observation but had taken no action.

  “If I take the job, I want anyone who goes on this ship to be able to speak clear, conversational English. They can have accents, but none that deviates farther than say, someone from the New England states does from individuals living in Texas or Louisiana."

  Dan smiled. “Damned if I don't like the idea, old buddy. My only question is, who decides?” This was the item he knew would irritate many prospective crew, along their governments and scientific societies.

  “We'll get a good linguist to set up a computer program and let it do the judging. It'll have to have varied conversational subjects; otherwise word would get around and prospects would simply memorize how to pronounce the words used. As a matter of fact, I know a good man for the job. He'll want to come along on the trip, though, as well as his wife. I've talked to him recently."

  “Give me his name and I'll take care of it,” Hawkins said. He entered the linguist's name into his comphone. “What's next on the agenda, Dan?"

  Stacey answered the question. “We should make arrangements to care for children, and make sure we have a couple of good obstetricians on board. With over five thousand people in the ship, and with most of the women still of child bearing age, we're likely to need both.” Again she had brought up a subject no one else had considered.

  “There goes my nice tidy logistics and supply operation,” Hawkins said, laughing. “The supply officer will really have a fit. He's never had to consider items for babies or children. You do have a good point though, Stacey. Just in case we become stranded and can't come home, we'll still have a legacy."

  “If we can find a livable planet,” Hawkins said. “Which brings up another point we haven't considered. “How long can we stay in space with a fully stocked ship before running out of vital supplies; water, air, food or whatever."

  “That's an easy one,” Dan answered. “The ship can convert just about any kind of material available into whatever we need to live on. So long as we can find asteroids or any kind of mass, we could go on practically forever. However, I doubt we'd have a stable society for very many years unless we had a destination in mind or find a habitable planet to settle on. You'd have to give the problem to the sociologists to play with but I wouldn't trust their recommendations that much. It would be a unique situation with no past data to draw on."

  “I guess we'll have to hope we don't get stranded then. No point in worrying about what we can't help anyway. We'll prepare as well as we can, then see what happens. Anything else before we let the others in?"

  “One more thing. Since Stacey and I have been put in command of the ship by fiat, so to speak, will the military have any problem taking orders from us?"

  Hawkins chuckled. “Not after today.” He looked at his watch. “Right about now, the president should be signing orders calling you both back to active duty and promoting you to Captain and Stacey to Commander. That should take care of it."

  Dan's mouth dropped open for a second, then closed. He turned the idea over in his mind while exchanging glances with Stacey. She shrugged. He looked back at Hawkins. “How about you? Not that I'm getting a swelled head all of a sudden but won't you be going? If so, I'll still be outranked."

  “I'll retain command of the army troops I'm bringing, but be subject to your orders while on board ship. That's how it's always been on a naval vessel and that's why I had you both put in the Navy instead of staying in the army."

  “Well, okay, I guess. Not that we could do much about it if the president's signing the orders. How many men are you planning on?"

  “Enough to give you plenty of support in case you need it to maintain discipline, and hopefully enough to fight if we have to. Probably a battalion, and even that many is going to rouse the lace panty people the State Department's sending along. They'd be perfectly happy to have no military at all on the ship."

  “Too bad. I agree with you. Stacey?"

  “Absolutely. Without discipline, the ship would turn into a madhouse within a week. Chet, just make sure all the non-military people on board understand that they won't always be able to do what they want."

  “I shall, and I'm trying to fill the civilian crew from those with prior military experience. It won't be possible in a lot of the slots, but there'll be enough, I promise."

  “Good. If there's nothing else, you can bring the others in now. That was all Stacey and I had."

  * * * *

  Dan had trouble getting used to wearing a Navy uniform rather than an Army one as he had during his previous tour of active duty. Either he or Stacey began making it a habit to go to the ship every day they could and visit different departments as they were making ready for the voyage.

  Being called Captain took even more time to become accustomed to. Hawkins had made it easier by moving some of his army troops into the ship and spreading them out while leaving instructions about proper protocol aboard a Navy ship. It wasn't a naval vessel of course, but the comparison was close enough.

  This day, they decided to go together, accompanied as usual by their teacher, Admiral Johnson. He wouldn't be going on the voyage and he dressed in civilian clothes to avoid the complexities of outranking the captain.

  “Have you come up with a name for your ship yet, Captain,” Johnson asked as they were carried at a walking pace by a moving strip of the floor along one bulkhead. It was another of the puzzling and unknown pieces of technology; there was no observable break between the moving part and the rest of the floor, yet part of it propelled them along while the rest was immobile.

  “Not yet. Commander Saddler is in charge of that department.” He grinned at his wife. The ship itself still hadn't been officially christened, due entirely to a conflict between the Army and Navy on how the ship was to be designated. Would it be called U.S.S. whatever, as the Navy wanted, or given an entirely new designation, as the Army preferred? Since tradition in the United States military always thought of ships as female and referred to as she, as opposed to nations like Russia wh
ere ships were male and called he when speaking of them, he had turned the naming over to Stacey.

  “I think I've decided,” she said. She had taken suggestions from everyone whom she knew for certain were going to be crewmembers and wanted to help with the naming.

  “So what did you come up with?” She hadn't even told him yet.

  “It's going to be the U.S.S.F. Pioneer."

  “What's the—oh, I get it. United States Space Force Pioneer,” Dan said. “Neat. That avoids any connotation of sex or service branch entirely and is appropriate besides. When do you want to have the ceremony?"

  “One week from today, twelve days before departure. I didn't pick the day for any particular significance; I just wanted enough time to finish arranging the ceremony. It's going to be a big deal, what with all the foreign dignitaries on hand."

  “I'm glad you're handling it instead of me. Any problems?"

  “No, I have it well in hand. And here we are,” Stacey said as the slideway slowed to a stop.

  “Attention!” Someone inside the biggest dayroom of the civilian living quarters announced.

  “At ease,” Dan said. He hated all the pomp of being the commanding officer, but Admiral Johnson had warned him that it was necessary. The captain wasn't just a man; once the ship was in space, he was all-powerful, answerable for his actions only to his superiors, and only after the return to Earth.

  The officer who had been taking a break in the lounge hurried over once Dan had given the “at ease” command. “Good morning, Captain. May I help you?"

  “Not unless you have problems. This isn't a formal inspection; we're just making certain I know every part of the ship before we depart.” He didn't mention that both he and Stacey already had a mental image in their minds of the ship's interior, which was refreshed with each change made to accommodate the crew and supplies.

  The officer nodded his approval. A captain who took the trouble to know his ship so well would almost automatically command respect, or so Johnson had told him.

  “Everything is going fine, sir. The only problem we've had is when we confiscated the cell phones. Some people didn't like it. In fact, I'm not sure we got them all."