“Even if it meant a chance for mutiny?”

  “I had her removed from the Bridge to avoid a nasty confrontation that would hurt the crew’s morale. Unfortunately, in so doing, I triggered our judicial mechanisms which gave me little choice but to have her so charged.” “You’ve watched our proceedings, what’s your opinion of the testimony given?”

  “That I haven’t done a very good job communicating my decisions with the crew. Fortunately, we’ve got at least a decade of travel to go, so I get plenty of opportunities to correct that. For this mission to succeed, we need to be comfortable with one another, comfortable enough to speak our minds.”

  “Yet, Wright did just that and is on trial for mutiny.”

  “Poor Nicole went beyond speaking her mind, and actively tried to prevent the crew from carrying out my orders.” “We’ve just stipulated to you silently watching the crew at all hours. Can you tell us why?”

  “Captains have a lot on their mind, so I like to take exercise walks. Rather than disturb the crew, I watch, let my mind wander, and move on. No one is put out by having the Old Man around.”

  “You’ve been accused of censoring communiques, not letting the crew talk with the other ships. Care to explain?”

  “We have a long way to go, and I’d rather not use up precious power with idle chatter. I’ve looked over messages before transmission to gauge their worthiness. We’re at the beginning of a long flight. If we don’t correct poor behavior now, very bad habits will be created and at a later time, if I had to cut off the transmissions it would seem that I was acting capriciously.” j “I see. Our engineer has already explained away the 1 probe matter, so we don’t need to review that.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Captain, we have carefully covered how the senior officers on the ship ignored Midshipman Wright’s ques- i tions and concerns. Were they right in doing so?”

  “This is a handpicked command crew. All excel at their particular functions so if they ignored her, they did so after careful consideration.” j “Nice answer. If you handpicked these men, would you say this ship’s Command Crew is close-knit?” “Extremely.”

  “Talk with them often?”

  “As often as necessary.”

  “Interesting. In that case, why did you not discuss your shift changes with morale officer Thupten?”

  “It was a command decision.”

  “Yes, but one with a direct affect on morale. What about the extra drilling? Cover that with the first officer?”

  “Didn’t see the point.”

  “Tell me, do you consider them loyal?”

  “Extremely.”

  “Would it be possible, then, that loyalty could blind them to a problem with their commanding officer?” “Not likely.”

  “Could such loyalty lead them to shield the crew, to protect their captain from close scrutiny?”

  “Never.”

  “Never. I see. You didn’t talk much with your Command Crew, nor did you talk to the crew when wandering at all hours. But what about your long conversation with Midshipman Wright?”

  “Which one would that be? I’ve made it a point to talk with all of my crew.”

  “I think we’ve established just the opposite, Captain. Do you recall the conversation or not? Think back to the time she found you in the chapel. It was at night. Do you recall the substance of the conversation?”

  “Not especially. She seemed interested in matters of faith, I believe.”

  “Exactly, Captain. Matters of faith, of whether or not she believed that other races exist in the universe. Her concern was that after all these centuries of searching; mankind has found no evidence of any other intelligent life. In fact, the theory of our existing as the result of some form of accident has gained as a religious tenent. Did you offer her words of comfort?”

  “I don’t believe so. I try not to meddle in such personal issues.”

  “You didn’t comfort her at all, because Wright was surprised to hear you shared those beliefs. In fact, you hold to them dearly, don’t you, Captain?”

  “Those beliefs do not have a bearing on Wright’s conduct, do they?”

  “Actually, they do. She was shocked to hear her captain worry aloud that the entire mission was in question. You told her you thought finding Arcadia was more luck than science, didn’t you?”

  “I…might have used the word providence, not luck.”

  “But you doubt we’ll have such fortune again?”

  “Again, Lieutenant, those personal beliefs do not have a bearing on her actions.”

  “Oh, but they do, Captain. Please tell this court, do you believe this mission will end in success?”

  “I have every hope.”

  “Not hope, sir, but belief. Do you believe this will succeed?”

  “Badgering, your honor!”

  “Lieutenant Kobayan, please redirect your questioning.”

  “Of course, your honor. Captain, how do you gauge crew morale?”

  “I think morale is mixed, to be honest. The rationing was not well received.”

  “Rationing you insisted upon because we missed the scheduled supply pickup. Tell me, sir, why did we miss I the asteroid belt?”

  “In studying the final mission specs, in comparing our, data with the telemetery collected by the other ships, I deemed it a prudent action.”

  “Was this a conversation you had with your fellow captains? I believe mission protocols call for all captains to agree on any major change in the mission.”

  “I don’t recall.”

  “Did you, by chance, discuss this with your senior staff? Weigh the effects this would have on both the mission and the crew?”

  “Probably not.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “May I ask what this has to do with the charge of mutiny?”

  “Captain, it’s likely you did not discuss any of this with your Command Crew because you knew they would object. They, in turn, saw you making the mission harder for all, not easier. But out of loyalty, they rallied around you, kept the crew from seeing what Wright so clearly saw.”

  “Your Honor…”

  “Lieutenant, save it for the closing. Another question, if you have any.”

  “Do you recall what Midshipman Wright accused you of on the Bridge?”

  “No.”

  “She said you lost your nerve, didn’t she? She said you were so convinced the mission would end in failure you were out to sabotage every effort to reach its conclusion.”

  “I don’t recall that.”

  “You don’t recall her pointing out to the Bridge officers how you were trying to force us to return to Arcadia through your every move? That you suppressed the telemetery from the probe, that you isolated us from the other ships in an attempt to avoid completing the mission?”

  “No, that’s not…

  “Nicole Wright insisted the crew follow their orders, not miss the asteroid rendezvous, so we could complete the mission. She felt you had a crisis of faith, that you…

  “Objection! Where’s the question?”

  “That’s not what she said…

  “Lieutenant Kobayan!”

  “Captain, you threw Wright off the bridge because you knew she would force you to finish the mission, finish a mission you had no desire to complete! You lost your faith in the goals of our people!”

  “Objection!”

  “You let personal fears replace command training. Your handpicked Command Crew chose to close their eyes out of loyalty, further harming the mission. As a result, this entire ship is now suffering both rationing and isolation. You deliberately want us cut off from the other ships, knowing they can’t simply turn around and find out what’s wrong. The engineering specs call for going in one direction to maintain precious momentum. You wanted us cut off so you don’t have your fears justified!” “I did it to protect this crew! Everything I did was to protect the crew! If it’s a total void, better we know it now than later, when we’re old and useless.”

  “You admit to losing your faith?”

  “If faith is what you call it, Lieutenant, then yes. Out here, with nothing surrounding us but vacuum, you see things differently. You understand how unique we are, how precious life is. I saw the crew working and playing,

  I saw them with their full lives ahead and realized I was wasting those lives. Better they return to Arcadia and do something that will succeed. I owed them that as their captain.”

  “No, sir. They signed on to this mission, knowing full well what the risks and odds were. This is how they wanted to spend their time, their years. To repeat what their ancestors had done, to seek out some new world, some new place to hopefully expand our reach and maybe, just maybe find that elusive life out here. You were robbing people of those dreams for your own; selfish fears.”

  “…yes…”

  “Midshipman Nicole Wright acted in the best interest of the crew and of the mission, didn’t she?”

  “She…did…she saw my own fear better than I did.”

  “Your Honor, I submit the charges be dropped against Nicole Wright and the Command Crew convene to determine this crew’s best course of action. On behalf of the crew, I further submit that the captain be relieved of duty and a new commanding officer be placed in charge. Finally, I insist the Command Crew put aside loyalty to the captain and act, for a change, in the interest of the crew.”

  “Your Honor, this is highly irregular!”

  “Lieutenant Mahomes, everything has been highly irregular since we left Arcadia. Clearly, we have to review the testimony just submitted against the charges as well as the captain’s own admission of malfeasance. For the moment, this court relieves the captain of the burden of command until such time as this court and senior staff can review all data and information pertinent to our collective future. At such time, we will make a general announcement to the crew. I suspect, Lieutenant Kobayan, you may get your wish. We stand adjourned.”

  “Begging your pardon, but what of Midshipman Wright?”

  “I see. Nicole Wright, you are returned to your duties effective immediately. Your charges of mutiny are suspended until this court rules further. Dismissed.”

  From the Captain’s Log of the starship Sojourner.

  I find the crew to be handling the changes in command fairly well. I have taken possession of the captain’s cabin and have been holding several meetings. If I’ve learned anything from presiding over the court-martial, it is that we’re not communicating enough. Our Command Crew was isolated from the rest of the ship’s complement and maybe this ugly incident precipitated by Nicole Wright will improve matters over time.

  Still, the damage is done both physically and spiritually. We remain on rations until our next supply opportunity. Our Morale Officer has already started working on programs to keep people from turning this into a larger negative than it has to be. The captain is now working on sensor analysis, one of his true loves. If there’s something out there, I want him to be the first one to confirm it. He needs that show of faith, needs to know he did not leave his crew in a dire situation. Instead of watching the crew like a phantom, he has sought some of them out and awkwardly, they are responding. It gives me some hope.

  Wright has been returned to her former duties, all charges dismissed. It was an extraordinary set of circumstances that brought about our court-martial. I don’t want them to happen again, and I will need to remain vigilant to prevent that. Order will be maintained.

  But still, he raised the specter of failure, which, coupled with the rationing, put a serious dent in our optimism that this next phase of mankind’s reach for the stars will result in success. It has forced me to address the crew and remind them that we plotted a course for a star system that has proved to have planets, at least two that should be able to sustain life. Arcadia was no fluke, I reminded them; it took years of study and preparation and even more years to make the planet a home. I don’t know what’s happening back on Earth—it was left by our ancestors and is now a legend like Heaven. I don’t know what’s happening on the planets before us and word from Arcadia comes more infrequently. But with Earth and Arcadia as our testament, we know there’s life in this universe and with that to draw inspiration from, we’re going forward. I want the people that are now my crew to hold out the hope that one of those two worlds will become our new home, our latest step forward.

  The above fragmentary documentation was found in a routine marker buoy left by the Sojourner and found seventeen years after its departure from Arcadia by a solar system patrol. No word had been received on the ultimate fate of the Sojourner and the other ships on that colonization mission.

  —Arcadia Space Exploration Committee report

  THE OLD WAY by Bill Fawcett

  The drop of sweat stung as it clung to the brow of one of Harry’s deep blue eyes. He was more than two thousand miles away from where he could wipe it without removing his space suit His light brown hair was plastered against his forehead and even working full on, after eleven hours a day for almost thirty days in a row, even a custom-fit suit chafed under his arms and against his thigh.

  But at the moment these minor discomforts were the last of Lieutenant Harrison Coronet’s concerns, because all his attention was focused on the explosive bolt he was attempting to fix on the half completed hull of DDS 11, the newest and still incomplete orbital in the Allies’ dis- . tant orbit defensive ring of missile platforms.

  The bolts were there to break off the covers of the launch tubes in seconds (which, considering how sophisticated electronic countermeasures were getting, might be all the warning they might have of any attack) and there was enough high explosive in the small, flat cylinder he was attaching electrodes to the side of to easily blow both his hands off (though in the vacuum of space any breach in his suit would be instantly fatal, which would actually be a merciful death compared to his fate if his suit held and the blast propelled him away from the station as their picket ship had been withdrawn days ago).

  If he lost contact with the incomplete DDS 11, there was nothing to do but to wait for his air to run out.

  In a more peaceful time, standard procedure would have required a ship capable of rescuing any lost man or shuttling the injured back to Earth, not to mention keeping the Connies away, on standby at all times, but with the orbital war escalating and threatening to move down the gravity well onto the planet itself, everything that could fly had higher priorities than babysitting forty-three naval Construction Battalion roughnecks and Harry, their very young and currently very nervous commander.

  Finally the last connection was made without triggering the explosives, and Harry’s concern shifted from the unit he had successfully attached to the three dozen or so in the insulated container on his belt. They were, he knew on an intellectual level, inert unless triggered by a specific electrical charge, but the assurance didn’t make carrying so much explosive in an environment as unforgiving as vacuum any less nerve-racking. He did take time to shake his head and almost dislodge the pesky drops of sweat.

  The young officer took a moment to look over his “command.” The half-built station was still a mass of round, hollow titanium alloy struts. The struts’ round shape gave them incredible strength, but made the half-complete Defense Station resemble a bad Escher painting. Moving amid the jumble were “his” men, visible mostly by the lights on their space suits or the abrupt glare of welding torches.

  Harry sighed as he surveyed the incomplete station.

  As a sixth-generation navy officer, there had been expectations. His great-granddad-to-the-third had served in the American Civil War on ships with wooden hulls. His great great grandfather had been on the Maine when it went down in Havana Harbor. Those were the days his own father had often spoken of from the time Harry was able to understand, and his enthusiasm had been infectious. Among the few personal items Harry had taken with him into orbit was a complete set of Forrester’s Hornblower novels. The adventures of the nineteenth century Royal Navy officer never failed to thrill Harry. Those were the days when the man on the bridge made a difference.

  Now most officers were engineers with management skills.

  It had been hard to explain to his father why he wasn’t serving on a combat ship. When his father had completed the academy, there had been no space navy. The few military personnel who got into space were called astronauts and they shared those primitive shuttles with civilians. There were only so many berths and every new officer wanted them. He had made it into space, even though he had to transfer to the Construction Corp to accomplish it. Better yet, even though he was a very junior officer, he had his own command, inglorious as it was, and in space at that. When he eventually applied to transfer back to the real navy, it would help.

  “Lieutenant, you might want to come back in…sir,” the voice of his master chief startled the young officer.

  “After eleven hours out here, you are right about that, Chief,” Harry agreed.

  “It’s not that, sir. You had better get in here now,” the voice insisted.

  Those two sirs in a row alerted the officer that something was very wrong. Things tended to be very casual in space. There wasn’t much of an option about that.

  “Here” was the half-finished core of the Distant Defense Station, currently three large rooms and the life support and power dome. This meant there was no real privacy and little personal space. Any officer who tried to stay aloof from his men was doomed to failure. There was no “apart.” His separate quarters were divided from the common room by a blanket. All that accomplished was not letting the men see him scratch himself when he first woke up. It wasn’t like on the line ships, where the CO had his own room and office. Picturing the long, elegant combat ships that roamed the lower orbits gave Lieutenant Coronet a twinge of regret. When he had originally applied to the Point, he had expected to serve on one of the Alliance of Nations’ growing fleet of warships. But there were always too many good, more experienced officers who wanted those jobs. Taking this slot hadn’t been much of a choice; he was serving in space and that was a very big something, not that he hadn’t sometimes regretted the decision.