The captain strapped himself into his own chair and activated the ship-wide enunciator. “All hands brace for evasive maneuvers.”
All over the
Hudson
, crew and colonists, awakened from fitful sleep or distracted from current duties by the blaring klaxons of the collision alarm, strapped themselves into the nearest jump seat, clung to a wall restraint strap, or simply held on tightly to whatever they were nearest.
On the bridge, O’Connell waited as long as she dared before using the inertial forward motion of the ship and the still constant vibrations of the main beam to roll the
Hudson
closer to the gravity well of a far distant star. Her mind rapidly calculated distances and movement as her screens updated. She had no inertial brakes, main thrusters, or engines to help her correct the ship’s course, and they were still traveling too fast for her to maintain complete control of their trajectory. The slight corrections she could make with the docking thrusters would be nowhere near enough. Realizing that the gravity of the small dwarf star wasn’t going to be strong enough, or soon enough, to help move the
Hudson
sideways, she cursed again.
Her left pinky slid across a key and activated her line to engineering. “Swede, I need power, at least 10% of any outboard thruster.”
“I don’t have it to give ma’am. The engines are on cooling down and the computers are still locked down on the battery power for the inertial thrusters. I couldn’t start them up again even if I wanted to.”
“Lieutenant if you don’t give me some power source enough to affect our inertial trajectory it won’t matter what
any
of us want. I need it, and I need it
now
.”
“Lieutenant, increase the atmospheric pressure in loading bays 1 and 3 to 250% of normal levels and then open the outer doors.” The captain’s voice was steady and calm, in stark contrast to the commander’s brittle agitation.
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Hill closed the com circuit from his own keypad and then asked O’Connell, “Will it be enough?”
“If he does it fast enough. But, sir, that’s going to put us in a barrel roll. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to keep that harmonic vibration from taking over.”
Hill frowned. “You will have to, O’Connell. I don’t have time in our schedule to replace the main beam of the ship.”
She grunted and noticed the system lights begin to blink for the lander bay doors. She whispered a silent hope that everything in the bays was bolted down. Anticipating the opening of the doors and the venting of air pressure into the vacuum, her hand already had the stick pulled hard to the right. As soon as the
Hudson
began to shimmy to starboard, O’Connell rolled the
Hudson
over on her side and slid into a descending roll.
“Artificial gravity falling to 40% of normal, sir. Hatch failures on corridors 3 and 12.”
“Leave them. I want everyone strapped down. There’s more danger to the crew if they are trying to move around securing things than just standing still.”
Fortunas is going to kick my ass,
Maggie thought as she fought to control the ship on its new course. She knew his plants and experiments were taking a serious beating down in the science bay.
“Let me know when, Commander,” Swede’s voice echoed in her ear piece. A glance at the board told her he’d repeated the over-pressurization of the starboard bays to provide correction for their current roll.
“Standby.” She watched the radar returns and tried to correctly gauge the best time to push the
Hudson
sideways again. “Now!”
The starboard bays vented, sending the
Hudson
sliding fractionally to the left. O’Connell brought the ship out of its roll and dipped the nose slightly. She looked back at her instruments and smiled. With a roll of her shoulders, she flopped her head back against the seat.
“That was fun.”
The captain glared at the high backed seat hiding his second-in-command from view. He turned off the collision alarm before again activating the intercom. “We’ve avoided the collision. All hands return to previous rotations. Damage and casualty reports to the bridge, please.” He un-strapped himself and walked the twelve feet to the pilot’s chair. “What was it?”
O’Connell fiddled with a shoulder strap, loosening it slightly to shift in her seat. “A comet. I managed to catch the very end of its tail and pull us into a better trajectory. That vibration has definitely lessened now.”
She couldn’t turn in her seat and, so, missed the captain’s pale expression of shock. “Do I want to know how close we were?”
“I’d prefer
I
didn’t know, sir. But if the captain wishes to know the gory details…”
“I’ll pass.” He glanced at the chronometer on his wrist. “You’ve been at the helm for, what, fourteen hours now?”
“I’ve taken two fifteen minute breaks, sir.”
He grunted and walked back to his chair. Once seated, he transmitted a brief message to Dr. Ruger. Before she could reply, he had a status update from engineering. Lieutenant Guttmann was predictably agitated about the set back with restoring artificial gravity. His damage control parties were, now, also trying to fix broken hatch seals near the recently vented landing bays.
Maggie wasn’t the least surprised when a med-tech walked up beside her carrying a syringe and a bag of IV fluids. She was only astonished that it had taken this long for the captain to think of it.
“Ma’am, I have an order to administer fifteen cc’s of stimulants and attach a nutrient solution via an IV. I’ll need to check your vitals and have you lower the pressurization of your flight suit, please.”
O’Connell removed one hand from the controls long enough to marginally reduce the pressurization of her flight suit. The suit was meant to keep her from passing out and losing control of the ship in the event of a violent decompression of the bridge space, but after fourteen hours it was also increasing her heart rate and blood pressure. The stimulants would only exacerbate those effects, in addition to making her skin crawl and her toes twitch. She held out her left arm with a small sigh and tried to concentrate on flying.
“Captain, as officer of the watch please note that Commander O’Connell, as pilot of the watch, began stimulants and IV fluids at 0110 hours. With this course of treatment, regulations state that Commander O’Connell must be relieved of flight duties no later than 0600 hours today.” From the tired slurring of the technician’s voice it sounded as if he himself needed the stims more than Maggie.
“So noted in the log. Proceed.”
A few minutes later, the captain raised an eyebrow when he heard O’Connell let loose a soft little laugh and then sigh.
“You’ll let me know if you feel the sudden urge to show off your flight aerobatics, won’t you Commander?”
She laughed again, a slightly breathless sound that did nothing to reassure him. “As the captain wishes.”
The bridge crew watched as Captain Hill shook his head and looked down at his tablet. They couldn’t see the soft smile that just titled the corner of his mouth.
***
Lieutenant Guttmann had been awake for four more hours than O’Connell and did not have the luxury of stimulants to keep him from yawning loudly. One of the colonial engineers glared at him. He was so tired he grinned stupidly at her, then laughed out loud when she blinked with shock at his ridiculous expression. The senior engineer chuckled again and went back to his calculations. Whether it was the increased oxygen to his brain from his mammoth yawn, or the tension bled off by laughing, Swede didn’t know, but the numbers before him suddenly didn’t seem as grim.
“Here, see if this makes sense to you.” He transmitted his calculations to the civilian engineer. She was still shooting him suspicious side-ways glances, as if he might be a dangerous drunk prowling down a dark alley. That mental picture made Swede grin even wider.
“Would you stop that?” The dark-haired woman snapped, ferociously. Her black eyebrows drew together. Full lips pinched together in a slim line as repressive as her tone.
“Stop what?”
“Acting like an idiot. People are staring!”
Swede glanced around at the engineering crew and civilians. Most of them appeared to be sleepwalking zombies. “Which people would those be?” He whispered his question in a lilting tone. He sincerely wished he could remember her name.
Why don’t colonists wear name badges too?
He stored the thought for later contemplation.
“Your numbers are just fine, Lieutenant. You will have to seal the damaged corridors to allow for proper pressurization and then recalibrate once the corridors are re-opened, of course.”
Swede replied, “Yes, of course. Hey, I’m hungry. You want a sandwich?”
“You’re obviously suffering from vertigo induced dementia. We have to get these calculations finished so that your time will be free when the engines are cooled.”
Not the least bit chagrined, Swede shrugged. “I still have to eat.” From the woman’s stern look he decided she wasn’t going to accompany him. “Well, thanks for your help. I’m off to eat and shower. You will let me know if you change your mind and want to come along?”
She blinked.
“Er, for the sandwich, of course not the er… well, see you later, I guess.” He watched her walk away and wondered if perhaps he
was
suffering from dementia.
On the way to the officers’ mess he passed O’Connell. She was leaning against a bulkhead staring at the ceiling struts. Concerned, Swede stopped and looked upward as well. Instead of the warped and buckled panels he’d feared seeing, he saw nothing out of the ordinary.
“Commander? Is there something wrong?”
“Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred.” She stopped, took a deep breath, and slowly lowered her chin. “Beyond the engines being shut down, spending eighteen hours at the helm trying to keep us from smacking into comets, and the overwhelming urge to vomit up the non-existent contents of my stomach, no there’s not a damn thing wrong. Why do you ask?”
“Uppers making you hurl, again? I thought you’d figured out how to prevent that.”
She cut him a sideways glare and went back to breathing deeply and counting. “I have figured it out, which is why I haven’t
yet
hurled. I just haven’t figured out how to appear perfectly normal while I’m doing it.” She paused and moved her head slowly. “Gravity feels better.”
“Just brought it back to 98% of normal. The damaged seals are throwing everything off just a bit. We’ll be back to full operations by the end of the day.” He raised his hand so that it hovered just under her elbow. “I was just going to the mess to grab something to eat. Can I walk with you?”
O’Connell nodded and straightened from her leaning position. “When was the last time you slept?”
“I can’t remember, so it has to have been awhile. I’m on official stand-down for the next four hours.”
“Same here. Four hours sleep is going to be like a small snack.”
“It will probably feel worse for you. At least I won’t wake up with a hangover.”
“It’s a bundle of cheer you are, Swede.” She slapped at the button for the mess doors.
When they entered, Ensign Robertson jumped to his feet and hastily started gathering papers and diagrams. “Ma’am, sir. My apologies I wasn’t... well the table helps because it’s so big, and I needed to see…” He gulped.
Too tired and sick to care what the ensign was babbling about, Maggie flicked her wrist towards the door. “Out, Ensign.”
He hurried out, but not before he noticed Lieutenant Guttmann’s eyes narrow on the documents tucked beneath his arm. As the door hissed shut, Robertson caught sight of Swede pulling out a chair for Maggie and leaning over to speak to her.
“Did you see what he was working on?
Maggie lowered her head to rest on the table. “Don’t know, don’t care.”
Distracted, Swede continued, “I could have sworn they were engine diagrams.”
From beneath her folded arms, O’Connell’s voice came out muffled. “You’re loopy from lack of sleep. Why would he have engine diagrams?” She raised her head and swiped at the hair in her eyes. “He’s probably trying to figure out where we are and how to get us back on course. He
is
supposed to be this mathematical prodigy.”
“I’m
not
demented,” Swede exclaimed with a bit too much fervor. He blushed, an interesting sight on such a big man.
Maggie’s eyes widened before she moaned and clutched her head. “Screw eating. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you at staff briefing in four hours.”
Guttmann watched her leave. Once she was gone, he viciously kicked at a chair leg with his booted foot. He
wasn’t
demented, and Robertson
had
been reading engine diagrams.
Chapter 9
“You may proceed, Lieutenant.”
“Sir, at 1300 hours today, I will enter the starboard engine with a team of three. We will investigate the power rods, all converter tubing, and the engine casing itself. We will take sensor readings every 10cm along the exposed surfaces to monitor isotope decay, metal fatigue and density, and any signs of structural anomalies. We will also place long-term monitoring devices to record any changes in the engine after we have finished our inspection.” Lieutenant Guttmann turned his head to look at Dr. Ruger.
“After the lieutenant and his team have left the engine, they will be quarantined and the standard decontamination procedures will be instituted. There is no scientific or medical cause to use anything other than our standard post-engine inspection cleaning cycle. This process will take fifteen minutes. For two hours following that, the crew members in question will have their bio-feeds constantly monitored.”
The captain nodded in acknowledgement. “And tomorrow you will repeat the entire process for the port engine?”
Swede shook his head. “No sir. Unless the doctor observes an adverse reaction, we will plan on checking the port engine starting at 2100 hours.”
“That will make for a long day not only for you, but the medical and support staff.”