Part 8 (2/2)

'You're not frightened, are you?' Tony laid both hands on her shoulders and twisted her to face him. 'Look, if it will help banish your fears, why don't we visit the bridge? We can hear the latest weather report, and you'll be able to see for yourself that the officers don't give a blow like this a second thought.'

Sarah stopped short as they entered the unusually crowded bridge and met Guy's hostile glare head-on. Squaring her neat shoulders and tossing her head back slightly, she held firm to Tony's arm with a proprietorial air that he could not miss. She knew it was a transparent, almost childish ploy, but she delighted shamelessly in its obvious success, noting the way Guy's eyes flashed as he watched them cross the room.

Patrick looked hara.s.sed, with smudges of weariness underlining his eyes. He didn't seem particularly pleased to see his employer, Sarah thought, but managed a perfunctory smile.

'The winds are almost up to gale force, Mr Freeland,' he replied to Tony's question, 'with no signs of slackening.' Then, seeing the alarm on Sarah's face, he added quickly, 'But we'll weather it, of course. If it gets to you, Sarah, you can get something from the medical officer to settle your stomach.'

'Thank you, Patrick. I may do that.'

He smiled ruefully. 'Poor Katie's taken to her bed with nausea. Keep your flat shoes on, and try to remember to keep your knees loose and flexible to absorb the pitching of the deck.'

'I do try,' said Sarah, frowning, 'but I can't quite get the hang of the rolling sailor's gait that-'

An angry voice rose over the general hum of machinery. Sarah peeped over Patrick's shoulder and saw two red-faced junior officers confronting each other, tempers snapping.

'What's the problem, Benton?' Patrick demanded.

'That last course change you ordered to avoid that berg, sir. It wasn't executed properly,' he replied tensely.

'Well, Stuart?' asked Patrick of the other man.

'The helmsman looked stiff but defiant. 'I executed the change as ordered, sir. I was just about to show Benton the record.'

Patrick looked at the book, then turned questioningly to Benton. 'Everything looks in order...'

'But it's not, sir,' he protested. 'Our position doesn't jibe.'

'Do your calculations again,' Patrick instructed.

He did, and the same infuriating discrepancy appeared.

'Take a manual fix, Patrick.' It was Guy. He'd been following the tense exchange and now appeared from the shadows at the back of the bridge.

'Yes, of course,' said Patrick, his eyes expressing grat.i.tude for the calming, sensible suggestion.

A sighting was taken on the stars using the same techniques known to sailors for hundreds of years. The tried-and-true method revealed that although the wheel had been put ten degrees to port, the bow had actually moved that way only marginally. The crew was stunned into silence by the implications of that news.

'It's the steering,' said Patrick at last, his voice betraying disbelief. 'It's not responding properly.' Jolted into action, he dispatched a cadet to summon the master and sent out an urgent call for Angus Dunn as well.

Captain Price appeared within minutes, still b.u.t.toning his s.h.i.+rt. He a.s.sessed the situation rapidly. After ordering a radical course alteration to compensate for the unresponsiveness of the steering, he sent Angus and two technicians down to the steering control room to try to find the cause of the malfunction.

'The weather?' he asked Patrick, his manner still utterly calm.

'Winds are sixty miles per hour with no moderation, sir. Gale force expected by nightfall- possibly as high as a hundred.'

'And ice?'

'Radar shows several large bergs bearing down on us. One is pa.s.sing us now close to the starboard side.'

'Too close, Patrick.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Why in heaven's name are they creating this melodrama!' whispered Tony harshly. 'This s.h.i.+p was designed to withstand the worst ice conditions.'

'There's a h.e.l.l of a difference between an icefield and an iceberg,' said Guy impatiently.

'Don't lecture me!' Tony snapped furiously.

'Please!' hissed Sarah, her eyes darting frantically to the crew. There was always just enough truth or logic in everything Guy said to make it difficult to argue with him and win-as she had discovered to her own chagrin. But the nagging suspicion that there was substance to everything he said only seemed to stiffen her against him.

'We'll have to make a substantial cut in speed, Patrick.' The Master's voice was disturbingly grave. 'Order a change to-'

Tony's voice slashed across his. 'There'll be no slowing down, Captain!'

Captain Price swivelled slowly around in his raised chair and looked quizzically at him. Every man on the bridge was silent, shock plainly written across his face.

'Perhaps you don't understand our situation, Mr Freeland,' he replied steadily. 'We're in very heavy seas. Our L.N.G. load is beginning to give us a roll effect, and our steering is not as precise as it should be. No prudent Master would continue to move through seas like these at full speed. Now, Mr Freeland-my s.h.i.+p needs my full attention.'

But Tony was in no mood to be put off. 'We're three days behind schedule and you tell me you want to be ”prudent”! Well, I don't pay you top salary to have you run this s.h.i.+p like some nervous cadet. You're supposed to have the brains and experience to handle a situation like this!'

Dear lord, Tony! thought Sarah. How can you speak to him like that? She could barely believe her ears.

Captain Price was unshakably polite. 'I repeat: only a fool would push a s.h.i.+p through waves like those. She's too big, Mr Freeland. She can't ride them like conventional tankers. If she gets hung up on the crest of a giant wave with her bow and her stern hanging over the troughs, the weight of the L.N.G. could snap her back. It would be the end of us.'

'And are the seas that bad yet?'

'No... not yet. But may I remind you that the Enterprise's untried in gale conditions?'. He turned away from Tony. 'Helmsman-half speed!'

'No!' shouted Tony, striding over to the bewildered crewman, who stood with his hand hovering above the controls. The proverbial pin could have been heard dropping.

The Master's voice rang out, clear and authoritative. 'This s.h.i.+p's charter names me her Master, under G.o.d. Under G.o.d, Mr Freeland! Next to the good Lord himself, I have the sole responsibility for this s.h.i.+p and every life on board her. And with that authority, I will order you off the bridge and into your quarters, under guard, if necessary, if you attempt again to interfere with my command. Is that quite clear, sir?'

A dark shadow pa.s.sed over Tony's eyes. His fists clenched and unclenched. 'All right, Price... for now. But you'll never command the Enterprise again. Nor any other s.h.i.+p. I'll see to it.' He spun on his heel and strode out of the bridge, leaving the door banging wildly on its hinges.

As a cadet scurried to close the door, Sarah exhaled painfully. She had been holding her breath during the exchange until her chest ached. It had been an ugly piece of business, and it had shaken her profoundly. She looked up and saw Guy's eyes boring into her.

'Don't say it,' she blurted out. 'Just don't- say-a thing!'

'Why do you think I'm going to say something?' he asked sardonically.

'Because I'm beginning to understand you. Because I know you always have some sarcastic, taunting comment at the tip of your tongue. Well, I won't let you put me in the position of defending Tony!'

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