Starhunt: A Star Wolf Novel by David Gerrold Read Free Book Online Page B

Korie states at him for a long moment, holding himself back. The captain is watching, expressionless. Korie says slowly, “You told this man this board is all automatic?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    A pause. “Wolfe, I’d suspect you of being a saboteur if you weren’t so stupid.”
    “Sir, I—” But the dark look on Korie’s face tells him that any attempt at explanation would only be wasted. He trails off.
    A communicator panel on the console beside and below them begins flashing angrily. Korie ignores it. Rogers starts to reach—
    “Leave it,” growls Korie, not taking his eyes off Wolfe. Rogers snatches his hand back as if burned.
    Korie looks to Brandt, no help there. He looks back to the pasty-faced Wolfe, utters a single syllable, “Off.”
    “Sir?”
    “Is there something wrong with your hearing, too? I said, get off—off the bridge. You’re confined to quarters.” Without waiting to see if his order is followed—he is sure that it will be—Korie turns to the console, reaches past Rogers, and hits the still-flashing button.
    A gruff voice bellows from the panel speaker. “Bridge, this is the galley!”
    Rogers moans softly, “Oh, no.”
    The gruff voice continues, “I thought I told you to control those goddamn G’s! You ought to see the mess you’ve made in my kitchen! I ought to drag you down here and make you clean it yourself.”
    The first officer and the captain exchange a quick glance.
    Korie starts to reach for his hand mike, but a gesture from Brandt halts him. Brandt unclips his own hand mike, thumbs it to life. “Cookie, if you call this bridge on more timeto complain about the gravity, I will personally come down there and stuff you into your own garbage disposal!”
    An angry “Who’s this !!” roars from the speakers.
    “ This is the captain!” Brandt bellows back, and the whole ship is suddenly silent.
    Brandt lowers his hand mike slowly, now speaking to every man on the ship. “Goddamn it! Have you all gone crazy?”
    No one answers. The captain looks around the room; the men are pale, unmoving figures, frozen in mid-air.
    “In case you have forgotten,” Brandt says in a slow and measured tone, “we are in a state of war. You are supposed to be fighting men. And that does not mean that you will fight with each other.”
    He pauses, fixes an eye directly on Reynolds, his own personal bane. “I have put up with it for as long as I am going to. From now on, if any of you have any personal differences, the gym is always open. Use it. Go in there and put on the boxing gloves and slug it out—but, by God, you will keep your arguments off my bridge. Do you understand. . . ? ”
    He looks slowly around the room. “If you can’t remember that, then please let me know. I’m sure I can think of something to remind you. And if I can’t, I know Mr. Korie can. Are there any questions?”
    Silence. There are no questions.
    “Good! I didn’t think so. Now, get back to your boards.”
    The crew moves quickly; no one wants to find out just how serious the captain is. Blue-clad crewmen pull themselves quickly around to float once more over their quiet humming consoles, each trying to outdo the other in feigning nonchalance.
    The captain clips his hand mike back to his belt and stares resolutely ahead. He forces himself to concentrate on the progress of the degaussing.
    At the horseshoe, Korie directs a wide-eyed Rogers back to his board, then turns and notices Wolfe, still floating beside him. The man is pale and nervous, and droplets of sweat are beaded on his skin.
    “Are you still here?”
    “Sir, may I just explain—”
    “I gave you an order, Wolfe. I expect it to be obeyed.”
    Wolfe looks pleadingly into Korie’s face, seeking one last chance—a spark of mercy. Finding none, his face sags. He drops his eyes. “Yes, sir.” Shifting his hold on the railing he pulls himself along it toward the rear of the bridge. The door slides shut behind him with a swift and final