A Call to Arms by Robert Sheckley Page B

the maneuvering. Although it was cool on the bridge, the man was sweating. He was well trained for this, but there was no training that fully prepared one for the unexpected. He was doing the best he could, however, confident that his experience would guide him if the unforeseen arose.
    Sheridan came to the bridge during the maneuver. Garibaldi and Drake were there, waiting for him. They all waited breathlessly while the move away from the dry dock was completed. Once that was done, it was less anxious work, towing the Excalibur out to the firing range. And when that had been accomplished, the master helmsman saluted the bridge personnel and went to the space lock with his crew, glad to return to the dry dock and be rid of the responsibility. Excalibur belonged to Sheridan now, and he was welcome to it.
    “Well, we got here in one piece,” Garibaldi said to Drake. “That’s always a good sign.”
    Drake looked offended, but didn’t reply. Sheridan, who was used to Garibaldi’s humor, grinned and checked the power levels as indicated on the control board.
    It was time for the weapons test, second in importance only to the propulsion of the ship itself. Excalibur ‘s small working crew--all Rangers, Minbari and Human--were distinctly keyed up, waiting to clear this pivotal hurdle. There was a low hum of expectation on the bridge. Sheridan was aware of the quiet sense of power the ship gave off, even though she was untried, inert, and had passively been towed along by mere tugs. A ship with weapons yet untested, the Excalibur still felt like a sleeping giant.
    Garibaldi addressed Sheridan now. “Good morning, Mr. President. You’re just in time for the weapons demonstration. Shall we?”
    “Anytime you’re ready,” Sheridan replied. “You... are ready, I suppose?”
    Garibaldi grinned--a dismal sight, given his mood. He slapped Drake on the back, a little harder than was necessary.
    “Ready, willing, and able. Isn’t that right, Drake?”
    Drake moved a little away from Garibaldi and touched his wrist com. “All hands, prepare for level-one test firing. Repeat, prepare for level-one test firing.”
    Then, to the crew member who was manning the weapons console, “Weapons control, stand by.”
    “Weapons control, aye, sir.”
    With an inquiring look at Sheridan, who nodded, Drake slid into the captain’s chair and looked at the monitor. It revealed its target--a small asteroid, white-faced, pockmarked, and bare, turning slowly in space.
    He said, “Target twelve degrees by nine degrees by twenty-five degrees.”
    Control repeated, “Twelve by nine by twenty-five, aye, sir. Confirm target lock.”
    “Fire,” Drake said.
    Even with recoilless gunnery, Sheridan could feel the tremor under his feet as the forward guns fired. The first beams of energy shot blue flame as they smashed into the planetoid.
    Drake called out, “Cease fire.” To Sheridan he said, “What do you think, Mr. President?”
    “Well, I’m a little disappointed,” Sheridan said. “That’s not much more firepower than the average White Star. I thought these ships were going to give a bigger punch.”
    Garibaldi said, “Then I suppose we’ll just have to deliver on our promise. See, that was just level one. Go to level two, Drake.”
    Drake looked like a man unfairly put upon. “I don’t--Sir, we haven’t even warmed up the system before today. And there’s... a complication.”
    “What kind of complication?” Sheridan asked.
    “The enhanced weapons array is based loosely on Vorlon design. They were intended to be used in ships far more advanced then we’re capable of building, with a far greater energy reserve. Firing the big guns takes virtually all our power... so they should only be used as a last resort.”
    “Duly noted,” Garibaldi said. “Would you care to try out the next target, Mr. President? Say, that big asteroid over there.”
    Not far from their previous target, a large asteroid, the size of a White Star