STO'B 6-9

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He descended into the maw of the magazine, trying as always to ignore the near panic of being surrounded by those deadly copper-hooped barrels. He deliberately counted the kegs in order to spend a reasonable amount of time in his inspection, then he entered the filling room and looked over the copper tools hanging from the overhead beams, already aware that he had no idea how many barrels he had counted. Then he complimented the gunner and escaped back up the ladder, taking some comfort in the knowledge that he had the gunner’s report in his cabin, and feeling immediate shame that he might need such a crutch.

The felt-lined hatch cover to the magazine fell shut with a muffled thump. Mister Horrace turned the brass key in its lock, and handed the key back to Philip. “Thank you, Mister Horrace,” said Philip, “very ship shape.” He realized that he was speaking somewhat at random and paused a moment to think of something intelligent to say. “Remind me how much powder we received from the prize?”

“Four barrels of red powder, sir, three full and nine half-barrels of white. Much of the white is rotten, sir, I mean no disrespect, but it looks like they neglected to turn the barrels. I’ve recovered it some but I don’t know that it’s fighting powder, so to speak.”

“But it should be good for practice, yes?”

“Oh, yes, sir,” said that gunner. “Yes indeed. I would say that’s the best use for it, and the sooner the better. I mean, for the sake of the powder, against further spoilage. I suppose you could use it for salutes, but you wouldn’t get that rich sound, sir.”

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Truth and Beauty 7-4

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Stephen had taken supper ashore last night, due to his visit to the admiral, so this was his first meal in the wardroom. He knew enough about the space-faring navy, and about men in general, to know that seating was likely to be habitual, if not rigidly assigned, and he hovered in the corner as the other officers entered, waiting to see which seat was left empty.

“Have a seat, Doctor,” said the carpenter, indicating a spot on the bench in front of Stephen’s own cabin.

“Thank you,” said Stephen, sitting where Mister Lorre had pointed. Stephen looked up once he had sat, thinking perhaps to engage the carpenter in light conversation, but Mister Lorre seemed preoccupied, and Stephen said nothing.

To Mister Lorre’s right, Mister Greenstreet sat at the head of the table, staring down at his hands, looking unnaturally tall even when sitting. Marine Sergeant Strasser climbed into the seat between Stephen and the sublieutenant, smiling at Stephen as he did so and smelling slightly of whiskey. He wore the only red coat in a sea of navy blue.

On Stephen’s other side sat a balding, corpulent, almost spherical man, pouring over a spreadsheet and doing sums on his fingers. Looking closely, Stephen saw columns for lamps, yards of duck, and batteries, among other sundries. The man felt in his pockets but did not find what he wanted, so he climbed back over the bench and almost collided with a slim, dark-haired woman coming to take her seat on his other side. She had a middle-eastern look to her and was exceptionally pretty.

The seat at the foot of the table was empty, but across the table from the young woman sat Mister Veidt, the gunner, engaged in conversation with a woman on his right, who wore a young face but grey hair. Stephen caught the phrase six-phase power and guessed they were discussing the morning’s discovery about the guns.

Between the grey-haired woman and Mister Lorre, across the table from Stephen sat Mister Humphries, the engineer. Stephen knew him reasonably well from Humphries’ visits to sickbay while Franklin had remained inpatient. The smile the engineer wore expanded as he saw Stephen, but before he could say anything eight bells began to ring and the table fell silent.

The last bell had not faded into silence before Stephen’s right-hand neighbor reappeared, sheepishly clambering into his seat and wiping his glistening forehead with a handkerchief. Mister Greenstreet lifted his hands to the table - Stephen now saw that he had been watching the clock on his phone - and glared at the balding man, but merely said, “grace.”

Around the table everyone closed their eyes and took on a respectful expression, so Stephen did the same; Mister Greenstreet said a formulaic prayer. Then he served himself from the soup bowl in front of him, passed the bowl to the right, and began to eat.

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Truth and Beauty 7-3

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But no, “Doctor Russ,” came the captain’s voice, “are you seeing this? Six-phase power. Have you ever heard of such a thing?

“No,” said Stephen, with complete honesty. “Never.”

“They must have added a special transformer for the guns. Take note of that in your journals, both of you. You should probably take photos, too. Here, Doctor,” said Jack, emerging from the knot of people clustered about the gun to grasp Stephen’s arm and pull him in. “This will be something to tell your grandchildren about. Look at that!”

Stephen looked, and saw a six pointed star of electrical wiring in the partially dismantled gun, each arm of the star made of a different color of wire. He wondered how long he had to stare at it to seem properly impressed, and took a sip of coffee to draw things out. “Fascinating,” he said. He searched about for something else to say that wouldn’t sound foolish. “I’ve never seen this before, I do declare.”

“Beg pardon, doctor,” came a voice at his elbow, and turning, Stephen saw the chief engineer holding up a his phone to take a photograph. This was the perfect excuse; Stephen thanked Jack for the opportunity, specifically saying six-phase power to prove that he had been paying attention, then slipped away from the group and returned to the wardroom. Here he discovered that someone had already been through to make up his bed, so he refilled his coffee mug and retreated to the sickbay, where he filled the time before breakfast in reviewing the radiographs for the surgical case he had agreed to assist in later that day.

He was considering the implications of the patient’s abnormally large uncinate process when seven bells struck and he made his way back to the wardroom for breakfast.

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Truth and Beauty 7-2

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Lieutenant O’Brian led them out of the bridge and down the companion to the spar deck, where, Stephen reflected as he continued to rub tiredness from his eyes, he had been peacefully asleep until five minutes ago. He knew there was a basket of dinner rolls just inside the wardroom door, and a carafe of coffee, and wondered if he could sneak away from the group for two seconds to grab some of each. Everyone’s attention was focused on the ordinance people, with the captain narrating for the benefit of his midshipmen, who took notes; Stephen and all of the other officers were dressed similarly (Stephen, indeed, was wearing one of Mister Blaine’s coats, they being of much the same size and Stephen not having a chance to acquire his own uniform yet); and reasoning that his face would not be missed amongst the sea of blue coats and pale trousers he decided to risk it, slipping away for long enough to cram two rolls into his pockets and draw a mug of coffee, rejoining the group just in time to hear Mister Holley ask “why is she working with one hand behind her back?”

“That way, if she accidentally brushes something live it won’t jump across her heart,” explained the captain. “She’s disconnected the negative cable from the firing cap - the capacitor, that is - connecting it instead to the green pole of the sink, that draws off any charge in the cap, see?” The explanation ran on and on. Stephen stifled a yawn and pulled a roll from his pocket.

Some minutes later he had finished both of his rolls and his coffee had cooled enough to drink, if he was careful, but the ordinance team was still busy with the number three gun. The captain was making the most of the opportunity to lead his pupils through the anatomy and physiology of the gun, a subject Stephen knew nothing about nor, did he particularly care just now, half asleep and on a half-empty stomach. “It’s not as if I can even see the gun, through all of those people,” he muttered vaguely, wondering if he could sneak back into the wardroom for another roll or two, or even escape entirely and return to sleep. He had slept poorly in the unfamiliar room, and had agreed to help a colleague in surgery later today.

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Truth and Beauty 7-1

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Chapter 7

Dr Russ laid himself down to sleep that night in the surgeon’s official cabin in the wardroom, declining Jack’s offer of continued use of the coach (“it would be invidious, my dear, and I should hate to cause strife in your command”, to which Jack had no reply). He intended to sleep through till breakfast at eight bells in the morning watch, but he had reckoned without an early-rising captain, eager to show off the securing of his vessel’s meager armament by the ordinance people. At four bells in the morning watch Stephen found the door to his cabin knocking, with a muffled voice on the other side of it offering the captain’s compliments, and did Doctor Russ wish to see the ordinance team lock down the cannon?

“What are you blathering on about, Mister Holley? And what are you doing in my cabin,” asked Stephen, having slept through and ignored five minutes of the midshipman pounding on the steel door with a knocker designed for the purpose, finally using a pass key to enter the cabin and shake the wire ropes holding the doctor’s cot.

“Captain’s compliments and would you like to see the ordinance team lock out the plasma arc cannon,” repeated Holley, then, “oh do come, sir, it’s ever so much fun. Mister Veight and the skipper are with them on the bridge and if we don’t hurry they’ll have started,” and he chivied Stephen into his clothes, through the wardroom without so much as a cup of coffee, and up the companion to the bridge.

Here they found Mister Henreid, the officer of the watch, along with the helmsman, but many of the other officers were present as well, speaking amongst themselves and with the red-jacketed ordinance people. Everyone looked up as Stephen and Holley walked in. “Ah,” said the captain, “Doctor Russ. So glad you could join us, you wouldn’t want to miss this. Are we all here now? Where is Mister Barus?”

“Here, sir,” said the Midshipman, hurriedly stuffing his phone in his pocket, where it continued to chirp and chime. “Mister Barus,” said the captain, “what is the rule about phone use unrelated to duty when on duty?”

Mister Barus flushed. In his pocket, his phone uttered an unhelpful but fittingly mournful four-tone melody. “There is to be none, sir.”

“You will report to me once you are off duty to discuss this,” said the captain. "Gentlemen,” he said to the ordinance team and his assembled officers, “and ladies, let us start with gun number three.”

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