Part 16 (1/2)

The Navy had torn fifteen of the Oman wars.h.i.+ps practically to pieces, installing Terran detectors and trying to learn how to operate Oman machinery and armament. In the former they had succeeded very well; in the latter not at all.

Fifteen Oman s.h.i.+ps were now out in deep s.p.a.ce, patrolling the void in strict Navy style. Each was manned by two or three Navy men and several hundred Omans, each of whom was reveling in delight at being able to do a job for a Master, even though that Master was not present in person.

Several Strett skeleton-s.h.i.+ps had been detected at long range, but the detections were inconclusive. The things had not changed course, or indicated in any other way that they had seen or detected the Oman vessels on patrol. If their detectors were no better than the Omans', they certainly hadn't. That idea, however, could not be a.s.sumed to be a fact, and the detections had been becoming more and more frequent.

Yesterday a squadron of seven--the first time that anything except singles had appeared--had come much closer than any of the singles had ever done. Like all the others, however, these pa.s.sers-by had not paid any detectable attention to anything Oman; hence it could be inferred that the skeletons posed no threat.

But Sawtelle was making no such inferences. He was very firmly of the opinion that the Stretts were preparing for a ma.s.sive attack.

Hilton had a.s.sured Sawtelle that no such attack could succeed, and Larry had told Sawtelle why. Nevertheless, to keep the captain pacified, Hilton had given him permission to convert as many Oman s.h.i.+ps as he liked; to man them with as many Omans as he liked; and to use s.h.i.+ps and Omans as he liked.

Hilton was not worried about the Stretts or the Navy. It was the First Team. It was the bottleneck that was slowing everything down to a crawl ... but they knew that. They knew it better than anyone else could, and felt it more keenly. Especially Karns, the team chief. He had been driving himself like a dog, and showed it.

Hilton had talked with him a few times--tried gently to make him take it easy--no soap. He'd have to hunt him up, the next day or so, and slug it out with him. He could do a lot better job on that if he had something to offer ... something really constructive....

That was a laugh. A very unfunny laugh. What could he, Jarvis Hilton, a specifically non-specialist director, do on such a job as that?

Nevertheless, as director, he would _have_ to do something to help Team One. If he couldn't do anything himself, it was up to him to juggle things around so that someone else could.

VI

For one solid hour Hilton stared at the wall, motionless and silent.

Then, shaking himself and stretching, he glanced at his clock.

A little over an hour to supper-time. They'd all be aboard. He'd talk this new idea over with Teddy Blake. He gathered up a few papers and was stapling them together when Karns walked in.

”Hi, Bill--speak of the devil! I was just thinking about you.”

”I'll just bet you were.” Karns sat down, leaned over, and took a cigarette out of the box on the desk. ”And nothing printable, either.”

”Chip-chop, fellow, on that kind of noise,” Hilton said. The team-chief looked actually haggard. Blue-black rings encircled both eyes. His powerful body slumped. ”How long has it been since you had a good night's sleep?”

”How long have I been on this job? Exactly one hundred and twenty days.

I did get some sleep for the first few weeks, though.”

”Yeah. So answer me one question. How much good will you do us after they've wrapped you up in one of those canvas affairs that lace up the back?”

”Huh? Oh ... but d.a.m.n it, Jarve, I'm holding up the whole procession.

Everybody on the project's just sitting around on their tokuses waiting for me to get something done and I'm not doing it. I'm going so slow a snail is lightning in comparison!”

”Calm down, big fellow. Don't rupture a gut or blow a gasket. I've talked to you before, but this time I'm going to smack you bow-legged.

So stick out those big, floppy ears of yours and really _listen_. Here are three words that I want you to pin up somewhere where you can see them all day long: SPEED IS RELATIVE. Look back, see how far up the hill you've come, and then balance one hundred and twenty days against ten years.”

”What? You mean you'll actually sit still for me holding everything up for ten years?”

”You use the perpendicular p.r.o.noun too much and in the wrong places. On the hits it's 'we', but on the flops it's 'I'. Quit it. Everything on this job is 'we'. Terra's best brains are on Team One and are going to stay there. You will not--repeat NOT--be interfered with, pushed around or kicked around. You see, Bill, I know what you're up against.”