* * *
The Shikkeron had slowed to little more than a crawl, feeling its way through a very dangerous asteroid field. Bedan nervously paced the captain’s bridge, Darla quietly sitting below on the operations bridge, watching two of the navigation screens. Unable to use its primary drives, the Divulsion had drifted into this vast ocean of jagged stone, fending off certain destruction by sparing use of its retro rockets. It was presently caught in a graceful spinning motion, slowly twirling end over end. Unless its crew could bring the ship under control, there was nothing the Shikkeron could do but watch.
Hour after grueling hour they followed along behind the Divulsion, keeping in constant short band communication. It was nearing four in the morning Palace Time (all Navy clocks were set to Palace time) when the captain of the Divulsion communicated his inability to regain control of lateral steerage. He also confessed their continued power loss, calculating the ship had about six more hours of retro-control. With shield energy nearly exhausted, once power to the control rockets was gone, it would only be a matter of time before the ship was destroyed.
Bedan called his officers to the bridge, asking Darla if she and her immediate lieutenants would join them. Soon an intense discussion was being carried on as one officer after another offered hopeful suggestions for saving the Divulsion. The only possible solutions that any in the group accepted might be successful were to physically deliver the thallium oxysulfide by some form of shuttle system. The arguments continued over how to make the delivery, some strongly recommending a drone be used, others suggesting a tethered bot.
Bedan felt both suggestions futile. “Look!” he said, pointing toward one of the viewing screens. “We have been unable to come within thirty leagues of her for fear of a collision. You well know that although doing little more than drifting, we are still clipping along at nearly two leagues per second. At this distance, we have no tether line long enough to reach the Divulsion.” Taking another glance at the screen, he turned back to the others and commented on the drone. “One of the machines found on some of the fleet’s newer ships might have a chance, but the junk we have aboard wouldn’t survive in that rock field thirty furlongs, let alone thirty leagues.”
Jebbson had been quietly observing, feeling himself as being little more than an invited intruder at the proceedings. He finally spoke up, introducing a solution the others had been unwilling to consider. “Then we must make delivery using a piloted machine. The bridge became silent. The odds of survival in a small, piloted craft were little better than that of the drone. No known shuttle or fighter had a force shield solid enough to protect against a hit from a meteor hurtling through space at possible speeds reaching thousands of miles per second. The odds of success would be slim at best.
Finally, resigned to such a fate, Bedan sighed, “Prepare a shuttle for transfer of supplies to the Divulsion. I’ll need a copilot.”
Ardon began to raise his hand to make an offer, but Darla pushed it down. She stepped forward and gripped Bedan’s arm. “No, Captain! Your place is with this ship. Besides, a shuttle doesn’t stand a chance against what’s out there.”
Bedan began to argue, but Darla interrupted. “A fighter will be more maneuverable and its guidance system more sensitive. Let me use one to make the needed delivery.”
Shaking his head, Bedan refused. “The Divulsion is my responsibility! I cannot ask anyone else to take such a risk.” He looked into Darla’s troubled face. “Besides, a fighter doesn’t have the carrying capacity to hold the volume of needed materials. And we can’t risk two trips.”
Darla realized just how futile it would be for Bedan to attempt such a delivery. He was not a skilled pilot - at least not skilled enough to manage this. She even doubted that Ardon could succeed in a shuttle. Desperate, she suggested, “Captain Bedan, the Divulsion carries a complement of Marines…my Marines! I am the commanding Marine officer in charge of this quadrant. Those people are in my charge! My responsibility!” She then recalled something else. “The Shikkeron carries two of the ancient T-4’s. They’re slow and awkward in combat, but they are fat, with more than adequate storage space for all the thallium oxysulfide the Divulsion needs to get going. And…” She poked Bedan on his chest, “I am an experienced pilot with that machine, having flown over three thousand combat hours in one.”
Captain Bedan shook his head and waved his hands in objection. Leftenant Ilanit stepped forward. “I, too, have time in those machines. I'll be Colonel Adaya’s navigator.”
Darla’s voice was tensing with anxiety. “Captain! Time is slipping away! Please! Give me the fighter! Let me do my job! What good is life if it can’t be offered in the service of others?!”
Surrendering to the women’s arguments, Bedan lowered his head, choking out, “God’s speed.”