The Star Fox

“All in order, sir,” came the voice of Diego Gonzales, who was third engineer on Fox. “Or as much as could be expected. The strain gauges do show some warping in a couple of the starboard bow plates. Not too bad, though. Shall I turn on the coolers?”

“Well, do you like this furnace?” grumbled Jean Irribarne. Heat radiated from every bulkhead.

“Go ahead,” Heim decided. “If anyone’s close enough to detect the anomaly, we’ve had it anyway.” He kept eyes on the console before him, but jerked a thumb at Vadász. “Radar registering?”

“No,” said the Magyar. “We appear to be quite private.” Those were the only men aboard. No more were needed for a successful landing; and in case of failure, Heim did not want to lose lives essential to Fox.

Gonzales, for instance, was a good helper in his department, but Uthg-a-K’thaq and O’Hara could manage without him. Vadász had been a fairly competent steward, and as a minstrel had a lot to do with keeping morale high. Nevertheless, he was expendable. One colonist sufficed to guide Meroeth, and Irribarne had pulled rank to win that dangerous honor. The rest must bring their story to Earth, did the present scheme miscarry. As for Heim himself—

“You can’t!” Penoyer had protested.

“Can’t I just?” Heim grinned.

“But you’re the skipper!”

“You can handle that job every bit as well as I, Dave.”

Penoyer shook his head. “No. More and more, I’ve come to realize it. Not only that this whole expedition was your idea and your doing. Not even the way you’ve led us, as a tactician, I mean, though that’s been like nothing since Lord Nelson. But damn it, Gunnar-r-sir—we won’t hang together without you!”

“I’m far too modest to have any false modesty,” Heim drawled. “What you say may well have been true in the beginning. We’re a motley gang, recruited from all over Earth and every man a rambunctious individualist. Then there was the anti-Naqsan prejudice. I had to get tough about that a few times, you remember. Now, though, after so long a cruise, so much done together—we’re a crew. A God damn ship. C.E.’s proved himself so well and so often that we haven’t a man left who won’t punch you in the nose if you say a nasty word about Naqsans. And as for tactics, Dave, half the stunts we’ve pulled were your suggestion. You’ll manage fine.”

“Well … but … but why you, sir, to go down? Any of us with a master pilot’s certificate can do it, and say wizard to the chance. You going bloody well doesn’t make sense.”

“I say it does,” Heim answered. “End of discussion.” When he used that tone, nobody talked further. Inwardly, however, he hadn’t felt the least stern. Madelon—

No, no, ridiculous. Maybe it’s true that you never really fall out of love with anyone; but new loves do come, and while Connie lived he had rarely thought about New Europe. For that matter, his reunion with Jocelyn Lawrie on Staurn had driven most else out of his mind. For a while.

No doubt he’d only been so keyed up about Madelon because of … he wasn’t sure what. A silly scramble after his lost youth, probably. She was middle-aged now, placidly married, according to her brother-in-law she had put on weight. He wanted to see her again, of course, and chuckle affectionately over old follies. But all he need do was instruct Meroeth’s pilot to make sure the Irribarnes were among the evacuees.

Insuwwicient, as C.E. would burble, he thought. Common sense has very limited uses. This goes beyond. Too many unforeseen things could happen. I want to be in the nucleus, personally.

A new sound filled the hull, the keening of sundered air, deepening toward a hollow boom, as Meroeth dropped below sonic speed. Heim looked out the forward viewport. The ocean reached vast beneath, phosphor-tinged waves from horizon to horizon. A shadow loomed in the distance, which Vadász told him from the radar must be an island. So, the Iles des Rêves already, at the end of the Notre Dame peninsula. He wanted to get the archipelago between him and whatever guardian instruments were at the uranium mine farther north, before he switched the gravitrons back on. It would take some doing. This hulk wasn’t meant for aerodynamic maneuvers. He applied the least bit of lift to get her nose up.