Greylorn | Page 8

* * * * *
Williams started half-heartedly to shove at the men nearest him. A fist
flashed out and snapped his head back. That was a mistake; Williams
pulled his needler, and fired a ricochet down the passage.
"'Bout twelve a you yellow-bellies git outa my way," he yelled. "I'm
comin' through."
Nagle moved close to Williams, and shouted something to him. The
noise drowned it. Kramer swung back to me, frantic to regain his sway
over the mob.

"Once I'm out of the way, there'll be a general purge," he roared. The
hubbub faded, as men turned to hear him.
"You're all marked men. He's gone mad. He won't let one of you live."
Kramer had their eyes now. "Take him now," he shouted, and seized
my arm to begin the action.
He'd rushed it a little. I hit him across the face with the back of my
hand. No one jumped to his assistance. I drew my 2mm. "If you ever
lay a hand on your Commanding Officer again, I'll burn you where you
stand, Kramer."
Then a voice came from behind me. "You're not killing anybody
without a trial, Captain." Joyce stood there with two of the crew chiefs,
needler in hand. Fine and Taylor were not in sight.
I pushed Kramer out of my way and walked up to Joyce.
"Hand me that weapon, Junior, butt first," I said. I looked him in the
eye with all the glare I had. He stepped back a pace.
"Why don't you jump him," he called to the crowd.
The wall annunciator hummed and spoke.
"Captain Greylorn, please report to the bridge. Unidentified body on
main scope."
Every man stopped in his tracks, listening. The annunciator continued.
"Looks like it's decelerating, Captain."
I holstered my pistol, pushed past Joyce, and trotted for the lift. The
mob behind me broke up, talking, as men under long habit ran for
action stations.
Clay was operating calmly under pressure. He sat at the main screen,
and studied the blip, making tiny crayon marks.
"She's too far out for a reliable scanner track, Captain," he said, "but

I'm pretty sure she's braking."
If that were true, this might be the break we'd been living for. Only
manned or controlled bodies decelerated in deep space.
"How did you spot it, Clay?" I asked. Picking up a tiny mass like this
was a delicate job, even when you knew its coordinates.
"Just happened to catch my eye, Captain," he said. "I always make a
general check every watch of the whole forward quadrant. I noticed a
blip where I didn't remember seeing one before."
"You have quite an eye, Clay," I said. "How about getting this object in
the beam."
"We're trying now, Captain," he said. "That's a mighty small field,
though."
Joyce called from the radar board, "I think I'm getting an echo at
15,000, sir. It's pretty weak."
Miller, quiet and meticulous, delicately tuned the beam control. "Give
me your fix, Joyce," he said. "I can't find it."
Joyce called out his figures, in seconds of arc to three places.
"You're right on it, Joyce," Miller called a minute later. "I got it. Now
pray it don't get away when I boost it."
Clay stepped over behind Miller. "Take it a few mags at a time," he
said calmly.
I watched Miller's screen. A tiny point near the center of the screen
swelled to a spec, and jumped nearly off the screen to the left. Miller
centered it again, and switched to a higher power. This time it jumped
less, and resolved into two tiny dots.
* * * * *

Step by step the magnification was increased as ring after ring of the
lens antenna was thrown into play. Each time the centering operation
was more delicate. The image grew until it filled a quarter of the screen.
We stared at it in fascination.
It showed up in stark silhouette, in the electronic "light" of the radar
scope. Two perfect discs, joined by a fine filament. As we watched,
their relative positions slowly shifted, one moving across, half
occluding the other.
As the image drifted, Miller worked with infinite care at his console to
hold it on center, in sharp focus.
"Wish you'd give me an orbit on this thing, Joyce," he said, "so I could
lock onto it."
"It ain't got no orbit, man," Joyce said. "I'm trackin' it, but I don't
understand it. That rock is on a closing curve with us, and slowin' down
fast."
"What's the velocity, Joyce?" I asked.
"Averagin' about 1,000 relative, Captain, but slowin' fast."
"All right, we'll hold our course," I said.
I keyed for a general announcement.
"This is the Captain," I said. "General Quarters. Man action stations
and prepare for possible contact within one