Stepping Up (4 page)

Gorb and I find a place to sit. He bows his head before
putting his spoon into his soup.  I have some holes in my knowledge.  “This
ship looks a little scary on the outside.  It’s pretty big to be a merchant. 
And there aren’t enough government types for it to be a cruiser. What kind of
mission does this ship have?”

“Save people ship. Uh, I mean ‘ship saves people.’..and I
help!!”

I make a dent in the cheeseburger, but not much of one.  If
I tried to eat all of these fries, before long I’d be bigger than the launch I
flew up in.  Which is not to say I’m going to waste them all, though.  I dip
them in ketchup and continue small talk with Gorb.

“‘Saves people,’ you mean like rescues and stuff?”

“Good food!! Mmmm. You eat like a bird, Shownya.  Don’t fly
away! Hee hee.  Birds fly away.” He pauses.  Then he looks at me intently,
“Hmm.  If I marry my son’s stepdaughter, do I become my own grandfather?”  He
shrugs then tucks into his sandwich with a purpose, effectively ignoring my
question.

“One other question, when I came aboard, I saw a man with
heavy boots, gloves and a respirator mask.  Who is he?”

His face falls a little.  That must be a painful subject for
him. He shakes his head, “Too many questions for Gorb...make head hurt.  Ask
Awia pwease.”

“Okay, I will.  Thanks for what you’ve told me.”  We finish
our meals in silence.

After chow, Gorb leads me up to Deck A, where there are the
other newbies, their guides, and Aria in the crew Commons.  Aria stands and
breaks the silence “Alright, everyone take a chair. Gorb, please return to
Engineering and help Mack.”

“Okay, Awia. Gorb loves to help! Everyone says so, it must
be true.” the other guides leave as well.

“I suppose you all got fed? Good. You will all receive more
specific orientation briefs tomorrow morning.  Typically, shifts are twelve
hours long but there are exceptions and when they apply, you will be made aware
of them.  Richard, you are assigned to the hangar deck. Your supervisor is
Lance Corporal Tug Pederson. Report to him no later than 0700. Twelia, you will
be in Galley C, and you will work for Chef Albert Dinkley.  He has already made
your acquaintance and set your starting time, correct?” Twelia nods. “Good. 
Sonia, you will report to Dr. Mack Sinnair in Engineering no later than 0645. 
Your duty day is roughly 0700 until 1900, but he may tell you otherwise.

“Now begins the mundane part of this brief.  As you all
know, space travel is much safer than it was years ago.  But accidents do still
happen.  Seams and seals do still fail.  For that purpose, every person aboard
will be familiar with the Atmospheric Protective Ensemble.  It is more colloquially
referred to as the ‘APE suit.’  You will have one in your quarters.  You will
have one at your workstation.  You will see them in cabinets in every
corridor.  Should atmospheric pressure in a segment of the ship drop, alarms
will sound.  The corridor cabinets will open.  Drop what you are doing
immediately, don and activate the APE suit.  Once you have done so, and are
breathing normally, help anyone in your immediate area who may need help with
his or her APE suit.  Anytime we know the ship is going into combat, the vessel
is decompressed to avoid explosion due to catastrophic decompression.  The same
warnings will sound.  We will now practice donning the APE suit until you can
literally do it in the dark.  Let us begin.”

We practice for an hour.  The APE suit isn’t powered, so
there’s not much to get working.  The challenge is to get the seals tight. 
Good to her word, once we have some proficiency, she turns the white lights out
and only the flashing of the red emergency lights illuminates the Commons.  Once
we can perform under the beacons, she turns those off and plunges the room into
total darkness.  She doesn’t have a flashlight but is able to correct our
mistakes as we make them.  I didn’t see any night vision goggles around. 
I
wonder how she’s doing that?
Aria also teaches us how to configure the suit
for storage, thankfully with the white lights on.  Once we have our suits so
configured, she asks: “Has anyone questions of me?”

“I have one.” Ricky has his hand up. “What is
Night
Searcher’s
big picture mission?” He beat me to it.

“The vessel was designed to be a search and rescue ship. We
also perform freelance deep space salvage. At this time, the ship is on a
long-term contract with the Academy of the Ancients.  The particulars of our
mission have not been released to the crew. And as you are not part of a
tactical team, please do not ask questions that do not pertain to your job.  I
assure you, you will be given all relevant information for your position before
you need it.”

“Yes ma’am, just trying to get a feel for the environment.”
He has a hard look in his eye. “And you did ask for questions.”

“I understand.  Please realize that for the moment, you will
operate on a need to know basis.  And when you need to know something, it will
be told you.” I know a rebuff when I hear one.  “Now, you each have intraship
email accounts and several documents have been deposited to your inboxes. You
will see the alerts on your desk holoComs in your cabins. I’d also like to draw
your attention to the casual communication or ‘casCom’ site.  It is used for
intra-ship and casual communication … ” She goes on for what seems like hours,
until mercifully, “Very well, your brain can absorb no more than your backside
can stand.  Begone! Get some sleep. Your duty days begin tomorrow.”

I set my alarm for 0500. That will give me time to
stretch, exercise, shower, dress and get breakfast before meeting the Chief
Engineer, Dr. Sinnair. I haven’t found much in the library about him, but if
he’s related to Michael Sinnair—or  is one-tenth the engineer Michael was—he is
sure to be superior.

Different women from last night are tending the breakfast
bar. That’s not really a surprise. I see Twelia working at one of the short
order stoves; the girls tending the bar yell orders back to her.  She repeats
them and gets busy cooking.  I try to catch her eye but she’s too focused. A
stack of empty egg cartons tells me why. Eggs to order for several hundred
people would tire anyone with a spatula.  She’s not having a good first shift. 
I opt for the simple this morning:  scrambled eggs, three strips of bacon and a
biscuit with a small bowl of gravy.  I load my tray and look for a place to
sit.  A nondescript man of medium build, well-groomed blonde hair, mustache and
goatee is waving me over.  I take a chance and walk over to him, my coffee cup
sitting precariously on my tray just in case I need to spill it on him.

“I take it you’re our new Probationary Engineer’s Mate. Or
do you prefer ‘Miss MacTaggert’? Aria told me to look for a gorgeous redhead,
so I think I figured it out.” He sets his fork down and gestures across the
table from him. “I’m Mack Sinnair. Please have a seat.”

I sit and extend my hand.  He shakes it, and not like he’s
afraid it will break.  I can’t turn the boss down on the first day.  Not only
is it simply not done, it’s not a career-enhancing tactic. “Sonia, please,” I
say. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.  I don’t know about gorgeous, above average
maybe?  Or more likely cleans up good.  So, what can you tell me about the ship
that won’t get me beaten up?” We take turns eating and talking.

“Ah! You’ve gotten Aria’s famous and copyrighted ‘mind your
own business’ speech.  First, self-deprecation is frowned upon.  If someone
didn’t think you measured up, you wouldn’t be here.  So if you have problems
receiving compliments, learn to keep your mouth shut.  Next,
Night Searcher
is about two-hundred sixty years old. She’s been overhauled thirty times but is
still in excellent shape structurally. The engines that are in her now are
about four years old. One of your tasks will be to keep them going until their
next upgrade.  I’ll make sure you get the logbooks.  My grandfather designed
them. The engines, not the logbooks.” He chuckles. I try but can’t laugh with him. 
The best I can offer is a weak smile.  “As soon as I look over your aptitude
exam and resume, I’ll let you know more about which systems you’ll be
maintaining. What else?”

“I met Gorb last night.”  I’m not sure what else to say, so
I leave it there.

“Ah Gorb, I guess you have perceived that he has a bit of
a…” he takes a sip of his coffee. “…let’s call it a mental quirk?  I don’t know
if it’s genetic or not, but he is a documented genius with respect to
propulsion systems. Sometimes he figures things out that stump me cross-eyed. 
And he does it walking past what I’ve agonized over for hours, while he’s
playing with a spatial geometry toy. 
Challenged
doesn’t really describe
him and he certainly keeps me humble.”

“And he’s such a sweetie, too.” I add. “When the girls in
the chow hall were teasing him I was ready to scratch their eyes out until I
realized it was that ‘nobody picks on him but us’ type.”

“True that.  I don’t know that they’d take a bullet for him,
but I know several people who would empty several magazines for him.”  He puts
my coffee cup on his tray and walks off, leaving his tray at the cleanup
station. He returns shortly with two covered to-go cups. 

I take the hint; it’s time to go to work.  I police up my
tray and we walk towards Engineering. “I want to get familiar with the drives
as quickly as possible. Are the TMs and MWOs available through that holoCom I
saw in my room?”

“The maintenance work orders are all filed in the Lead
Engineer’s Office more familiarly known as the LEO.  The technical manuals can
be made available over the network. I’ll ask Aria to give your workstation
holoCom access. I appreciate your initiative, but I’d really prefer you do all
of that from your workstation in the shop.  Unless you’re restricted in some way,
I don’t want you taking your work into your cabin.  And I don’t want you
bringing your personal life into Engineering.  Keeping some separation is
recommended, otherwise there’s always the potential to air your dirty laundry
in Engineering.  I don’t want to hear it anymore than you want me to. You’ll
have to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement first, so read it carefully. The Powers
That Be—in this case the Academy of Ancients—are pretty tough on
rule-breakers.”

As we walk the corridor, Mack fills me in on some
operational and historic aspects of
Night Searcher.
“This ship has
uronium fuel cells rather than hydrogen reactors. Years ago my Gran and Gramp
knew this character on some distant planet that developed a revolutionary way
to employ uronium and increased its yield by seventy-eight percent. And then
Gramp developed these batteries. As long as they get charged enough to stay
above the threshold, they should last about thirty years. Which is why we still
refuel. The little engines running in the corner of deck H are for charging
batteries. They’re simple old hydrogen engines, similar to old Ship’s Boat
drives. They don’t require much attention but they can’t be ignored.”

“Impressive.  I’m guessing the NDA expires a few years after
I leave the ship right?”

“More than a few. The NDA I signed is in effect for twenty
years after I leave.”

I stop mid-stride.  “Twenty years?”

“Mmm hmmm,” Mack hums as he takes a sip of his coffee.
“Twenty years. Standard.  Keep up with me, we aren’t there yet.”  I start
walking again.

“I imagine the fine is pretty steep.”

“You could say that,” he sips his coffee again, “a complete
cerebral sweep.”

I stare at him, but he doesn’t grimace, wink, blink, break
stride or anything.  I don’t know if what he is saying is true, but he believes
every word of it. 
That’s good enough for me.
I decide to change the
topic. “I’m guessing you have a supply of uronium in reserve also?”

“Enough for one full swap.  But of course, if we have to
make a complete exchange, we have much bigger issues. If we find ourselves
needing more than that, we have problems of cataclysmic proportion.  What
else?”

“Oh, I’m sure there will be others, but right now I don’t
know what I don’t know.”

“The mark of intelligence and the beginning of wisdom:
Knowing there are holes in your understanding.  Sonia MacTaggert, welcome to
deck F.”

Deck F—Maneuver Drives. The doors open and we step into a
room filled with a soft humming. The drives are massive, even for a ship this
size. “I’m guessing I could spend a lifetime trying to run down all of these
lines and circuits.”

“Easily.”

I meant to say it to myself, but by the grin on Mack’s face
I must have used my out loud voice.
I’ll have to work on that, otherwise in
six months I’ll have absolutely no secrets.
  Gorb is over by an Auxiliary
Power Unit reattaching a cable.

I get a quick half credit tour.  After that, Mack takes me
to Deck G to look at the Transit drives.

“Wait, did you say this ship is two-hundred sixty years old?
Those must have been some pretty radical overhauls.  Just doing the math in my
head and from what I see here, I’m guessing you get Transit three and maneuver
at two gravities?”

Starships have two separate and distinct engines.  The
maneuver drives, the ones on deck F, are for getting the ship from navigable
space to orbit and vice versa.  If the ship is capable of landing on a planet
it will use the maneuver drives.  Their speed is measured in the number of
gravities, thirty-two feet per second squared, at which they can accelerate the
vessel.  The internal gravity generators will correct for all of the forward
motion.  So down continues to be towards the deck plates.  At two gravities, or
two gee written 2G, if the ship uses all of its fuel—which would take about an
hour—it would reach a maximum velocity of just over seventy kilometers per
second.  At that speed it would take almost seventeen years to cross the
distance from Earth to Goliath.  And there would be no way to stop on the other
end.  It’s far from practical.

Instead, Transit drives are used.  I can’t articulate the
physics and such, but I know how to apply the principles.  The principles
involved were worked out centuries ago.  I know enough to read the texts, but
that’s about where my knowledge ends.  Transit drives are, like maneuver
engines, measured by their abilities.  The number used is the divisor for how
many months it takes the vessel to travel a light year.  A Transit One ship
will travel one light year in one month.  A Transit Two ship will make the same
trip in half the time.  To use the Earth-Goliath (about forty three light
minutes) example, the time isn’t measured in years but minutes at Transit one. 
But within a solar system it’s not safe to move at full Transit speeds.  There
are too many gravity wells and too much debris.  A meteorite the size of a
softball could potentially destroy a ship moving that fast.  The typical
captain will only authorize Transit Zero point two until they clear a solar
system.  Once in the open space between solar systems, the throttle is twisted
wide open.

Older ships will use the aqua-francium reactors like I used
to clean.  Newer ones will use hydrogen reactors. Hydrogen is relatively
plentiful in the universe.  A streamlined ship—one that can enter an
atmosphere—will often have equipment to break water down for the hydrogen and
oxygen.  Some planets, particularly gas giants, will have hydrogen in the upper
reaches of their atmosphere.  Ships meant to recover that will have scoops and
other apparatus to collect hydrogen and process it into fuel.  The little I’ve
learned about
Night Searcher
has shown me that if she needs hydrogen,
she has to buy it.  She has no way of converting water or collecting gas for
fuel.

Mack continues the lesson, “Officially, she’ll do Transit
Three and despite her size she’ll still maneuver at 3G. If we redline it we can
get four of each, but not for long.  And the Captain, Aria, as the Operations
Officer, and I, as the Chief Engineer, must go on record authorizing it.  It’s
in the software somewhere.  Primarily because the superstructure balks at that
kind of abuse.  All right, I’m heading to my office to go over your dossier and
exams. You are released to your own recognizance until eleven hundred, and then
meet me in the Lead Engineer’s Office on deck D, room 9, forward and starboard.
Okay? I’ll see you then.” 

Before he can leave, I ask, “Should I go for lunch first, or
will I get a break sometime after eleven?”

“I don’t care. You eat on your timetable.  But unless we are
or have been in combat, don’t bring any plates into my engine rooms.  As long
as your task lists are caught up, I don’t care when or for how long you take
meals. But the other side of that holds true as well:  Do not make me have to micro
manage you.  And only the gods will help you if I have to come find you when my
engines need attention.  Neither of us will enjoy it. That’s not a threat, it’s
a promise.  You take direction from me and me alone. You’ll find me easy to
work with, but if you work for me, life will be decidedly unpleasant.  If you
have any questions, check the task list board on the department casCom page. If
anyone else tries to task you, tell him or her to come see me. See ya at
eleven.” And he goes.

I show myself around the Transit Drives.  It’s quiet here
now, but I know that won’t last.  At Transit I doubt a person would be able to
hear a cannon fire in here.  I make a few notes on things I want to look up and
then go back to my stateroom.  There’s a copy of the Non-Disclosure Agreement
in my holoCom inbox.  Twenty-year duration—it really says twenty years.  That’s
substantial.  Apparently these people have a very high opinion of my memory.

I also look up the technical manuals for the engines and see
what history of
Night Searcher
there is in the ship library.  I find the
commissioning document. Like Mack said, it’s dated 264 years ago.  The name
Aria is mentioned just about everywhere in the history of the ship.  Never a
surname, just Aria.  Odd.  I’ll have to ask Mack about that.  I mean, she can’t
be the same person.  The woman I saw can’t be over forty.  Is she a clone
perhaps?  I must admit it does lend a sense of continuity.

I knock on the LEO door at 1059.

“Come in Sonia. Sit down.”  After I step into the office, the
door slides closed behind me and I sit in the chair Mack indicated.  I see on
the holoCom on the Chief Engineer’s desk he’s been reading my file.  There
can’t be much more to it than my test scores. “Would you like some tea? You’re
more skilled than I thought...no offense.” 
How can he think that? The test
was a breeze.  And if he thinks it’s so good, why did Aria use the word
“lackluster?”

“Thank you for the tea and the compliment. None taken.”

“I’m going to put you in charge of the Transit drives. You’ll
also help out with the power plants. Spend the next two days looking over the
documentation and getting to know where the access panels and inspection
instruments are. Gorb knows it all. Ask him to show you anything you can’t
find. I’ll be down to sign off on your assignment for your first Transit.  I’m
guessing it will be more of a formality than an actual evaluation.  Have you
any questions for me now?”

“I’d like to say thanks again for the opportunity. I look
forward to learning your engines.  Just what I read earlier makes your granddad
pretty smart to have done what he did with them. I do have two questions, when
do we go into Transit?”