devour their souls.”
“Time is that way, sir. We’re all sailing on the seas of time, from the cradle to the grave.”
“Yes? Well we have started to founder, Fedorov. It is now clear to me that we are taking on water from that sea, and this ship is sinking. So what would we do if that were the case in the ocean? We counter flood to correct a list. Damage control, yes Fedorov?”
“What are you thinking, sir?”
“We must do something. We cannot just wallow here until that next wave hits. We have the power to act, and we must do something. Is that second control rod ready?”
“Aye sir. The engineers have it mounted.”
“I can tell by that face that you hesitate to use it, Mister Fedorov.”
“There is always some risk, Admiral. Look what happened to us last time—we shifted in spacetime, not simply time. It was as if we were held in suspension while the earth rotated, and then dropped into the Atlantic. If that had gone on a little longer, we might have plopped down in Canada! Then there is one other problem—we could sustain additional structural damage. The ship has had difficulty phasing. When we displace in time, we must manifest somewhere else, and re-sync with that timeframe. We’ve seen clear evidence that the ship is not manifesting in a stable manner on these later shifts. We’ve been discussing all that just now, but it is only speculation. Running from the problem before we know what really happened is somewhat daunting.”
“What other choice do we have now, Fedorov? We either run this procedure and take our chances, or we sit here for days on end, wondering where we are, waiting for the next impossible thing to happen.”
Fedorov thought of his hand, his boots, and the Admiral did not have to persuade him further. “Agreed sir,” he said. “There’s no use speculating any more about this. What you say is obvious. We are foundering, sinking in time, and if we don’t take some action the sharks will have the final say. Shall I send the order down to engineering?”
“Make it so.”
Fedorov complied, using the overhead handset for the ship’s intercom. “All hands, all hands, this is the Captain. We are going to make an attempt to move the ship from our present location in time. Stand ready. Engineering—initiate rod maintenance procedure and keep the bridge informed. That is all.”
Fedorov looked down at his boots, glancing at the Admiral. “I hope I will not need another pair soon,” he said glibly.
“Yes,” said Volsky. “And let us also hope we do not have another incident like Lenkov.”
He swallowed, and for a moment Fedorov thought he saw his eyes glaze over with emotion. The Admiral looked at him, the light of appreciation warmly in his eyes as he extended his hand, placing it on his Captain’s shoulder.
“Mister Fedorov,” he said quietly. “I want to thank you for all you have done since I first had the wisdom to make you my Starpom . You have lived up to my expectations, and exceeded them, and without you I do not think we could have survived all that has happened to us. To put it plainly, you are simply the finest young officer I have ever served with, and you are to be congratulated.”
Fedorov felt the emotion come, and unable to speak, he simply nodded. All about them there was a silence on the bridge, and it held within it an understanding that a moment of great significance was now upon them all.
“I second that,” said Rodenko, smiling and shaking Fedorov’s hand.” And every man there, though they were glued to their stations, extended that same handshake in thought. They were all there, every hand one on top of another, a solidarity of minds, hearts, and lives that had come so very far together.
The Admiral eyed the intercom, thinking, a strange, lonesome look on his face. He took a deep breath, then stepped over and took the handset, giving Fedorov a wan smile as he did so.
“All hands… This is Admiral Volsky…” He paused,
“Time is that way, sir. We’re all sailing on the seas of time, from the cradle to the grave.”
“Yes? Well we have started to founder, Fedorov. It is now clear to me that we are taking on water from that sea, and this ship is sinking. So what would we do if that were the case in the ocean? We counter flood to correct a list. Damage control, yes Fedorov?”
“What are you thinking, sir?”
“We must do something. We cannot just wallow here until that next wave hits. We have the power to act, and we must do something. Is that second control rod ready?”
“Aye sir. The engineers have it mounted.”
“I can tell by that face that you hesitate to use it, Mister Fedorov.”
“There is always some risk, Admiral. Look what happened to us last time—we shifted in spacetime, not simply time. It was as if we were held in suspension while the earth rotated, and then dropped into the Atlantic. If that had gone on a little longer, we might have plopped down in Canada! Then there is one other problem—we could sustain additional structural damage. The ship has had difficulty phasing. When we displace in time, we must manifest somewhere else, and re-sync with that timeframe. We’ve seen clear evidence that the ship is not manifesting in a stable manner on these later shifts. We’ve been discussing all that just now, but it is only speculation. Running from the problem before we know what really happened is somewhat daunting.”
“What other choice do we have now, Fedorov? We either run this procedure and take our chances, or we sit here for days on end, wondering where we are, waiting for the next impossible thing to happen.”
Fedorov thought of his hand, his boots, and the Admiral did not have to persuade him further. “Agreed sir,” he said. “There’s no use speculating any more about this. What you say is obvious. We are foundering, sinking in time, and if we don’t take some action the sharks will have the final say. Shall I send the order down to engineering?”
“Make it so.”
Fedorov complied, using the overhead handset for the ship’s intercom. “All hands, all hands, this is the Captain. We are going to make an attempt to move the ship from our present location in time. Stand ready. Engineering—initiate rod maintenance procedure and keep the bridge informed. That is all.”
Fedorov looked down at his boots, glancing at the Admiral. “I hope I will not need another pair soon,” he said glibly.
“Yes,” said Volsky. “And let us also hope we do not have another incident like Lenkov.”
He swallowed, and for a moment Fedorov thought he saw his eyes glaze over with emotion. The Admiral looked at him, the light of appreciation warmly in his eyes as he extended his hand, placing it on his Captain’s shoulder.
“Mister Fedorov,” he said quietly. “I want to thank you for all you have done since I first had the wisdom to make you my Starpom . You have lived up to my expectations, and exceeded them, and without you I do not think we could have survived all that has happened to us. To put it plainly, you are simply the finest young officer I have ever served with, and you are to be congratulated.”
Fedorov felt the emotion come, and unable to speak, he simply nodded. All about them there was a silence on the bridge, and it held within it an understanding that a moment of great significance was now upon them all.
“I second that,” said Rodenko, smiling and shaking Fedorov’s hand.” And every man there, though they were glued to their stations, extended that same handshake in thought. They were all there, every hand one on top of another, a solidarity of minds, hearts, and lives that had come so very far together.
The Admiral eyed the intercom, thinking, a strange, lonesome look on his face. He took a deep breath, then stepped over and took the handset, giving Fedorov a wan smile as he did so.
“All hands… This is Admiral Volsky…” He paused,
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