Troy Rising 2 - Citadel (11 page)

“Parker,” Hartwell said, sticking his head in Twenty-Nine.

“EM?” Dana said. She was removing a balky grav plate that was part of the ISS. The things were not only heavy, they were just bulky. She was about to kill the internal grav to get the damned thing out.

“Go down to the BX and get your EN tabs,” Hartwell said. “Once they're slapped on, I'm going to move you over to Thirty-Six.”

“Boomer,” Dana said. She got along well enough with the CM3. He was better than most at having his ass kicked by a guuurl at nullball. “Does that mean . . . ?”

“You're full qualed,” Thermal said. “Don't let it go to your head. You know some of the idiots we've got who are full qualed. But take some time getting your tabs. Maybe pick up some lunch at the food court. You've earned it.”

“What about the grav plate?” Dana asked.

“Leave it for AJ,” Hartwell said. “This isn't your bird anymore.”

“Booyah!” Dana said when the EM was gone. “Hey! AJ!”

“SET CONDITION ONE! CONDITION ONE!”

Dana rolled out of her bunk and was half-way into her suit before she even realized the 1MC was blaring.

Another damned . . .

“Suity” had mentioned that there were regular air-loss drills. What he had not mentioned, probably because the civilian side didn't have to deal with it, was the Condition One, “battlestations,” drills, the launch drills, the damage control drills . . .

She had been working twelve hours a day on her bird, maintaining her flight qual, mandatory “fun” time, training evolutions . . .

She did not need a damned drill every thirty minutes!

“THIS IS NOT A DRILL. HORVATH SHIPS IN E ERIDANI. SET CONDITION ONE . . .”

“Holy hell!” Dana said, dogging her helmet while cycling the hatch to her quarters.

The benefit of all the drills became evident as she made her way to her bird. She was still not quite awake but when she'd first followed EM Hartwell to Thirty-Six she thought she'd never be able to find her way back.

After a week she could do it in her sleep. As she was proving.

“Mutant, Longwood,” LCM Martin commed.

“Mutant, sir,” Glass responded.

“We've got a real world evolution,” the commander of Charlie Flight commed. “We're doormen, helping the Apollo tugs close the plug. And I've been given the word that they want every boat out there. Moving this thing is going to be a nightmare.”

“We're down two coxswains, sir,” Glass pointed out.

“Which is why I'm comming,” Longwood replied. “Pick two ENs that are cox qualed.”

“Move Gopher to Thirty-One and Danno to Thirty-Three, sir,” Glass commed without hesitation.

“Danno?” the CO said. “That seems like a bit of risk when we're still in the middle of a review from the last incident.”

“Her scores on famil were so high I'm wondering why she's an EA, sir,” Mutant replied. “In Thirty-Three it puts her with Thermal to keep an eye on her. And it gets us two more birds, sir.”

“Do it,” the lieutenant commander said. “Tell Paris . . .”

“I will, sir,” Mutant said. “Any word on Spade and Boomer?”

“They were on the seventeen forty from Minot,” Longwood replied. “If the Horvath come through any time soon
.
.
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I don't think we'll be getting them back.”

“Go, Go, Go,” CM1 Glass said, standing by the hatch to the shuttle bay and tapping people through. It was his job to count through the personnel and make sure everyone was in place. AJ was in charge of warming the boat so all he had to do was hit the seat and drive. “Move it, Danno!”

“Roger, CM,” Dana said, leaping through the airlock and catching the grab bar.

She spun in the air and hooked another bar with her foot to get oriented then pushed off, floating down the corridor to her bird.

“Sweet, Danno,” Moose called. He was hauling himself along hand-over-hand to his bird.

“Float like a butterfly,” Dana said.

She pulled herself into Thirty-Six, hit grav in a two-point stance, dogged the hatches and pounded across the cargo bay to her position. Thirty seconds after hitting the bay doors she was in position and warming the bird.

She wasn't sure why she was warming the bird. Her coxswain, Boomer was Stateside as a witness in an “incident review.” Before she arrived, an Alpha Flight Myrmidon plowed into a clearly marked SAPL beam. It had missed a marked turn. The two man crew were killed. The Myrm had been completely destroyed to the point of scattering bits all over the bay. Two of the Charlie Flight's coxswain's and two from Alpha had been in formation, so they were called to testify.

So even if there was a need for Thirty-Six, she wasn't going anywhere. Unless they were going to activate her “familiarization” training as a coxswain which would be a . . .

“Danno,” Thermal commed. “Shut down your bird, seal it and shag ass over to Thirty-Three.”

When she got to Thirty-Three, EM1 Hartwell and CM1 Glass were waiting in the cargo bay.

“Parker,” Hartwell said, uncomfortably. “You know we're short on coxswains. Boomer, Spade and AJ are all groundside . . .”

“We have a real-world evolution of helping the tugs close the main bay doors,” Glass said, cutting to the chase. “You're the top rated EN for driving. You're going to drive Thirty-Three. The CO has signed off. Your bird, Coxswain.”

“Yes, Coxswain,” Dana said, her face suffusing. Despite keeping up with qual and her flight test, she wasn't exactly an expert coxswain.

“Don't look so scared,” Mutant said. “This is a dead easy evolution and Thermal's got so much time in these things he can walk you through anything you're uncomfortable with. That's why you're in his boat. Just hit your seat and drive.”

“Roger, Coxswain,” Dana said, nodding.

“Take a deep breath and heat that seat, Danno.” Mutant nodded, walked to the hatch and pulled himself through.

“Bird's warm,” Hartwell said, dogging the hatches. “You want to inspect, Coxswain?”

“I can't exactly do a walk around, EM,” Dana said, with a chuckle.

“Attention Flight,” Lieutenant Commander Martin commed.

“This is a really simple evolution,” the flight commander continued. “We're going to undock and follow in a line to the main hatch. The SAPL is off in the bay so we don't have to worry about that. There are, however, going to be birds all over the damned place when we get to the hatch. Fly. Your. Lanes. I want a tight, solid, formation. Stay centered on the lanes. You'll have a latch point marked. Hook on, wait for the word and then apply tow power. It would be very nice to have the door closed by the time the Horvath decide to come through the gate.”

Dana could feel her suit's environmental system trying to keep up with her increase in body heat and she didn't care. The next time she was chewing gum and the hell with the helmet. She was scared spitless.

The coxswain's seat for the Myrmidon was placed centerline of the bird, just forward of the main drive plates and “up” in relation to the engineering position down and to starboard. There were two joysticks that controlled forward, up, down and side-to-side. However, yaw had to be controlled with finger controls on the joysticks. It was a complicated arrangement and she knew she really needed to be dialed in on it before she took a bird out.

Which she might have sort of been. If she had been flying a simulator all week instead of maintaining Thirty-Six.

On the other hand, the truth was she'd wanted to be a coxswain. She much preferred to fly the birds than fix them. A bit. She enjoyed the engineering.

But she'd been assigned to engineering and only familiarized with driving in case the coxswain was, in the polite terminology of training, “incapacitated.”

“It's all good, Danno,” Hartwell said. “Mutant's got good instincts. If he didn't think you could drive the bird, you wouldn't be in that seat. And if I didn't think you could drive the bird, I'd be back on the station faster than you could say ‘incident.' ”

“Thanks,” Dana said, giggling. “God, I hate that sound.”

Dana felt a sudden thump and her stomach tightened. It was the thump of undocking shuttles. Which meant their turn was coming up.

“Just breathe, Dana.”

“Right,” she said, giggling again. It was just her normal reaction to stress. But it sounded childish and idiotic. She buttoned it down as more thumps sounded from down the tube.

“And we are . . . undocking,” Thermal said. “Your bird, coxswain.”

“My bird, aye,” Dana said, carefully backing away from the lock and yawing the shuttle to play follow-the-leader.

“Coming up on a turn . . .”

“Got it,” Dana said, focusing on driving. She made the turn fairly close to center of the lane. She knew that “close” wasn't a good thing in space but she was inside and with as little training as she had she figure that was, for once, good enough.

“Good turn,” Thermal said. “See. No sweat. Get some brake in there. The shuttles are stacking up.”

Dana had already seen that and stopped her acceleration. But she still wasn't quite up on space driving and nearly forgot that she'd just keep going in that direction until they ended up in deep space if she didn't apply some countering delta-v. She marked the velocity of Thirty-One, the next shuttle in line, and conformed. Then it slowed down more.

“I am a butterfly,” Dana said, correcting some yaw that had crept in from somewhere. And overcorrected and had to correct again more carefully.

“Doing good,” Thermal said. “Seriously. You're doing this like a pro and I don't blow smoke.”

“You're blowing smoke,” Dana said.

“Okay,” Hartwell said, chuckling. “A little. But you're seriously doing well. Better, I hate to admit, than a couple of our regular drivers.”

As she saw the CO's boat head into the opening, though, she got a little less nervous. There were shuttles and tugs moving in both directions not to mention the large SAPL safety zones and Mutant's comment on “crowded” suddenly hit home. There was actually plenty of room but if you made one serious mistake you were either going to explode from the SAPL or run into something at a closing velocity that was going to have the same result. Although it seemed as if the shuttles and tugs were barely moving, their actual velocity was higher than most race cars.

“ ‘You all look like little ants from up here,' ” Hartwell squeaked.

Dana tried not to giggle again. She just hated the sound. But the CO's sixty-foot long shuttle did look like an ant entering the massive exit.

“The scale keeps throwing me,” Dana said.

“It's hard to grasp at first,” Hartwell said. “The point being that it's like any other form of driving be that plane, boat or driving. They say with pilots the most important thing is to remember that there are edges to the air, those being land and space. Do not approach the edges unless you mean to. In this case, there are edges to space. Do not approach unless you mean to and are prepared. Note the SAPL zones?”

“Yes,” Dana said. “No-go zones.”

“Right now the SAPL isn't on but I don't care. Do not approach the big red lines. Problem being that when it's on, there's a web of them you have to negotiate to get in and out of the door. They'll turn one or two off when a Connie or Business heads through but we have to slip between them. The space is big, mind you, but try to keep to the center.”

“Check your seals, aye,” Dana said. “Check the hatch indicators, aye. Do not approach the big red lines, aye.”

“Good girl,” Hartwell said. “Spotlight coming on.”

They'd entered the tunnel and the light from the main bay was suddenly extinguished. She still had graphic imagery and flight data but that was retransmitted. She certainly didn't have visual.

The spotlight was only so much help. All it did was illuminate the next ship a hundred meters ahead which already had its nav lights on. But then she realized that what she thought were dots of the other ships were . . .

“Into the Dark,” Dana said.

“Yep,” Hartwell said, for the first time sounding slightly uncomfortable. “We're about to go out in the big dark.”

“This is always my favorite part,” Dana said, marveling again at the view of deep space. People like Hartwell didn't really enjoy “The Big Dark.” She couldn't even understand why. The view was glorious.

“Quit enjoying the view,” Hartwell said. “We've got another turn coming up.”

“Roger, EM,” Dana said, paying attention to driving again. What the hell, she figured she'd be back.

“Spread formation,” the CO ordered.

Dana carefully followed the marked lines in her screen. She had to yaw turn which was still the toughest part of the job but she stayed pretty much on track.

“See the blue mark on the wall?” Hartwell said.

“Yes, EM,” Dana said. The plug to fill the entrance was immense. The dozens of attached tugs looked like bits of sand attached to it.

“That's our attach point,” Hartwell said. “Be aware, the door is already in motion. You don't want to crunch into it. Among other things, that will transmit the wrong sort of motion and undo all the work that those tugs have been doing for the last thirty minutes. You want to touch it soft as a . . . Very softly. You'll actually have to come down to it, stop your relative motion, then back away slower than it's moving.”

“Aye, aye, EM,” Dana said.

Dana quickly saw what the EM was talking about. She followed the track down until she was about two hundred meters from the door and slowed her relative motion to zero as she approached. Then it started creeping back up as the door was slowly being accelerated. She let it come up then set the ship to creeping back at a half meter per second.

“That's close enough,” Hartwell said as the door approached to within fifty meters. “Give me point one-one-six reverse delta.”

“One-one-six reverse, aye,” Dana said, setting the reverse.

“Engaging grapnels.”

The tug slid forward towards the wall of nickel iron, slowly at first then faster until it slammed into the wall.

“EM?” Dana said.

“Using the grapnels, the relative inertias are negative,” Hartwell said. “Close enough. Okay . . .” He frowned and looked at his screen. “We're not supposed to pull, we're supposed to push? I take back what I said. We should have slammed it.”