“It’s too low for me,” Zoya said. “I have to reach up to get there. The headrest is dumb and I can’t imagine being strapped into it while the ship is maneuvering.”
Natalya lay back and held out her hands. “I can’t reach the console at all.”
“I noticed that, too,” Zoya said. “Maybe Tony will get his wish.”
“His wish?”
“He said he wanted one of these for himself. Maybe Pittman will give him this one.”
Chapter 17
Pulaski Yard: 2066, May 3
A PING-PING MADE NATALYA look down the passageway. Carroll stepped aboard and turned to look into the lock again. He fiddled with the control and smiled.
“Got it?” Natalya asked.
Carroll looked up the passageway and nodded. “Looks like it. Both hatches open if there’s the same pressure on all sides.”
“What was it? Bad sensor?”
He snorted. “Bad connection. The internal lock sensor was connected to its cable just fine, but somebody forgot to connect the cable in the junction box.”
Zoya stepped into the passage and frowned. “How did it even work?”
“Normal cycle process doesn’t check it. Just opens the hatch being keyed.”
Zoya glanced at Natalya.
Natalya sighed. “That’s got to change. What if there’s no pressure in the lock and we open the inner hatch?”
Charlie shrugged. “I’m not sure the servos have enough oomph to open it against a vacuum.”
“If there’s pressure in it and we try to open the outer?” Natalya asked.
“It’ll open as long as the inner hatch is closed. Blows whatever’s in the lock out.”
“That strike you as a good design?” Zoya asked.
He held up both hands, palm out. “I’m just the socket jockey. You need to take that up with the design team.”
Natalya sighed. “Thanks, Charlie.”
He nodded and gave her a jaunty wave before disappearing through the lock.
“That is how we throw out the trash,” Natalya said, after the lock closed again.
“I know, but he didn’t,” Zoya said. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That we have no idea if this ship is actually spaceworthy?” Natalya asked.
Zoya nodded. “That’s the one.”
“Verifying it is going to be a pain.”
“We really need to make a checklist so we don’t miss anything,” Zoya said. “But I’m not sure we can think of everything when our basic assumptions about how things work aren’t supported.”
“Like the lock?”
“The lock. The couch. The instrumentation. What else would we assume was legit and not test before we needed it?”
Natalya sighed and rolled the question around in her brain for a moment. “Safety locks on the drives and rocket motors?”
“That crossed my mind,” Zoya said. “I don’t expect the coffee maker to check to see if there’s coffee in the basket, but we’ve seen enough to make me question the fundamental design parameters.”
A noise from the lock made them look down the passageway in time to see Pittman step aboard. “Knock, knock,” she said. “The door was open ...”
“Welcome aboard,” Zoya said. “We’ve got some questions.”
Pittman offered a sideways smile. “I know. Tony said he’d have the new couch installed tomorrow. They’re just doing the initial assembly this afternoon.”
“That was fast,” Natalya said.
“You were right about the models. We had them all along.”
“You were monitoring our conversations this morning?” Natalya asked.
“I wasn’t but my assistant kept a tally of the discrepancies.” She held up a tablet. “I’ve got the list. The instrumentation suite is a problem?”
Natalya and Zoya both nodded.
“We really can’t fly like that,” Zoya said.
Pittman frowned but nodded. “Can I show you something?”
Natalya grinned. “That depends. What did you have in mind?”
Pittman nodded toward the lock. “Let’s take a little walk.”
They followed Pittman off the ship, pausing only to key the lock closed. “I don’t suppose we can lock it,” Zoya said.
“You can, but so many people have access, it’s rather pointless. These prototypes have so many keys out that almost everybody on the production team has one.”
“So anybody could fly away with it?” Natalya asked.
Pittman paused and frowned. “In theory,” she said after a moment. “I’m not sure anybody would want to risk it in an untested ship.”
Natalya and Zoya shared a glance.
“It would make a hell of a yacht,” Natalya said.
Pittman’s frown deepened. “You think so?”
Natalya shrugged. “Fast courier? Other people would like to have a ship with legs that long.”
“Maybe,” Pittman said, her frown smoothing out. “The prototypes are just that. Prototypes. Given what you’ve identified as problems, I’m not sure anybody would want them.”
Zoya snorted. “That assumes that anybody agrees with us.”
“Tony Downs didn’t seem to have any problems with the design parameters,” Natalya said.
“We’ll see,” Pittman said. “Come on. I want to give you a bit of background.”
Pittman led the way down the passageway to the small craft dock next to the Peregrine. She keyed the dock open and let the way to her ship. “I reviewed some of your comments from this morning,” she said, keying open the ship’s lock. “I want to show you where some of those ideas came from.”
She led the way into the tiny craft. The lock opened just behind what would be the bridge, but it looked more like somebody’s living room. Armorglass wrapped around the forward half of the compartment, affording a good view of the Peregrine.
“It looks big from down here,” Zoya said.
“Only by comparison,” Pittman said. She dropped into the pilot’s couch and touched a few keys, bringing the displays to life. She stood and waved at the couch. “One of you? Would you check my instrumentation?”
“I know where you’re going with this,” Natalya said, waving Zoya into the couch.
Zoya sat and started flipping screens. “All idiot lights,” she said after a few moments.
“Well, the manufacturer calls them status indicators, but yes,” Pittman said. “We took this idea and applied it to the new ship.”
“How do you know when you’re running low on—say—potable water?” Natalya asked.
“They’re supposed to turn yellow at 20% but I’ve never run low,” Pittman said. “It automatically fills whenever I dock. Gases, water, fuels. All of it.”
“As long as you have the funds to cover the cost,” Zoya said.
“That’s a given,” Pittman said with a faint smile.
“What about the lock’s controller logic?” Zoya asked stepping away from the couch.
“I thought that was just a standard design,” Pittman said. “You’ll need to talk to Tony about that.”
“Is he still speaking to us?” Natalya asked.
Pittman’s eyes hardened. “If he wants to keep his job, he is.”
Natalya pursed her lips and looked around the bridge, taking in the polished wood and chrome accents, the subdued lighting, and the small galley tucked away in an alcove. “How many people does she carry?”
“Room for four. Two couples or a cozy foursome,” Pittman said. “I’m usually flying solo but once in a while I’ll take a board member with me.”
Zoya stuck her head into the galley. “This where Tony got the idea for the four-top?”
“I suppose he might have, but I don’t think he’s ever been aboard,” Pittman said.
“Did you see the design before they rolled it out?” Natalya asked.
Pittman nodded. “I saw it but—honestly—seeing four seats in the galley didn’t register as significant.”
“What about the single Burleson drive?” Natalya asked.
“Like I said. There’s only one on this ship.” She sat on the pilot’s couch and brought up the systems displays again. “This is what I brought you here for. This is what I have.”
Natalya and Zoya leaned over her shoulders and watched as she flipped through screen after screen of green lights.
“It’s not like I spent a lot of time going through the prototype’s systems interface but even if I had, this is what I’d have expected to see.” Pittman looked up at Natalya. “I’ve shown you mine. Show me yours?” She grinned.
Natalya nodded toward the lock. “Easily done, but can I see your engine room first?”
“Sure.” Pittman stood and led the way aft. “The two ships are very similarly built.”
“Only a few ways to stack up the pieces and have them work,” Zoya said. “Old design principle.”
“Form follows function?” Pittman asked.
“That’s the one.”
Pittman opened an airtight hatch at the end of the short passage. “More like engine closet than engine room,” she said. “But here it is.”
Natalya stuck her head through the hatch and surveyed the tiny compartment. “What do you use for maneuvering? I saw some kicker nozzles back there.”
“There’s a pair of auxiliaries under the deck. One on either side of the Burleson.”
“Slick,” Zoya said, peering around the combing.
“You actually have two Burlesons,” Natalya said.
Pittman laughed. “Where is it? Hiding in the overhead?”
Natalya turned to look at her. “You really don’t know what you’ve got here, do you?”
“That’s ridiculous.” Pittman frowned and looked at Zoya. “Do you see another drive in there?”
Zoya held up a hand. “She’s the engineer. I’m just along for the ride.”
“That’s a Mellon-Merc Gemini,” Natalya said. “I’d guess Alpha class but maybe Beta.”
Pittman stood still for a moment, cocking her head as if listening for Natalya to say something else. “I got the upgrade to Gamma. Eight BUs but it drains the capacitors.”
“Pravda fusactors?” Natalya asked.
“Yes.”
“They cheated you by not upgrading the capacitor to Gamma class when they upgraded the drives,” Natalya said.
“You keep saying drives. There’s only one unit in there.”
Natalya shrugged. “There’s only one casing in there. It holds two drives. If one fails, the other will take you home.”
“Now you’re just teasing,” Pittman said.
“Is it a Gemini?” Zoya asked.
Pittman paused, looking back and forth between them. “I think that’s what the yard called it. Yes.”
“Then that’s two drives,” Zoya said. “I may be a deck officer, but I know that much.”
“I don’t know of a single ship that has only one Burleson drive,” Natalya said. “Not saying there aren’t any. Just that I’ve never seen one designed that way.” She paused and looked at Pittman. “Until yesterday when I saw your new courier.”
“You really didn’t know?” Zoya asked.
“I’m not an engineer,” Pittman said, her words chipping off like ice. “I ordered a jump-capable yacht. I got a jump-capable yacht.”
Natalya bit back a few sharp comments before speaking. “You still want to see what the Peregrine looks like?”
Pittman nodded. “More now than before.” She paused and scratched her left ear. “Please.”
“Let’s go then,” Natalya said and led the short parade to the next lock.
PITTMAN STOOD IN THE cockpit, her face a mask. “Two people lived in this ship?”
“We think so,” Natalya said. “I don’t know who originally owned it but these little babies mapped the Western Annex before it was the Western Annex. Generally two-person crews, sometimes three.”
Pittman looked at Natalya. “This should be in a museum, not flying around Toe-Hold space.”
Natalya shrugged. “It’s not like she’s in the original condition. Besides, she’s my home.”
Pittman stuck her head in the galley. “This is tiny. How do you eat in here?”
“We don’t, as a rule, but mostly standing up,” Zoya said. “We either eat in our staterooms or on the couches.”
“So, two people flew these out for weeks at a time without contact with a station?” Pittman shook her head. “I mean I’ve heard the stories, but seeing it? It’s unnerving.”
“Two things make your courier different,” Natalya said. “One person. Two people—assuming they get along—means you’re not out there alone. There’s somebody to talk to. With one person, you’re putting the crew into solitary confinement. The question is, how long can they stand it?”
Pittman folded her arms and leaned against the bulkhead. “Seems like heaven to me.”
“What’s the longest you’ve been underway alone in your yacht?” Zoya asked.
Pittman frowned and looked at the deck. “I’m not sure. A couple of weeks. Maybe.”
“What was the one thing you wanted most when you docked?”
“A bath,” Pittman said, answering immediately. She seemed surprised by her own answer.
Natalya and Zoya both laughed.
“That’s what we both went for after our first run,” Zoya said.
“The showers are good, but a warm soak? That’s different,” Natalya said.
“What’s the other thing?” Pittman asked.
“Schedule,” Natalya said. “The people flying these made their own schedules. They didn’t have any kind of responsibility to an outside authority.”
“The financiers?” Pittman said.
Natalya nodded. “Having to make a payment is different from needing to perform on a schedule. They were free to make the decisions they wanted to earn enough to make the payments. Remember that few of them had bankers behind them. They were almost all financed by private money, one way or another.”
“Loans aren’t readily available to people who don’t have collateral,” Zoya said.
Pittman nodded. “I get that.”
“So the early explorers were predisposed to autonomous operation,” Natalya said. “People who knew they’d be out on their own in the Deep Dark for months at a time. They only needed to keep enough cash flow going to keep flying, keep probing. Gas scoops kept the consumables topped off as long as they found a gas giant or two to skim. Food was the most critical commodity, which is why the pantry space on this thing is almost a quarter of the volume.”
“Three months of food for two people takes a lot of room,” Zoya said. “Even prepackaged and frozen.”
“You keep three months’ worth aboard?” Pittman said.
“I think we’re down to two months,” Natalya said. “We’d top off before going anywhere but just hanging out around the station? That’s enough.”
Pittman looked around the cockpit. “This isn’t that much bigger than the new ship.”
“About half again, I think,” Natalya said. “We get more out of the volume because the ship’s much blockier.”
“Can I see the engine room?” Pittman asked.
“Sure.” Natalya headed aft with Pittman and Zoya in tow. She undogged the hatch and stepped in. “This space is pretty cramped but—again—the shape of the hull gives us more space inside.”
“That rounded ovoid is pretty,” Zoya said. “It’s not terribly practical.”
“If the plans we saw back at Bowie haven’t been changed that much, our length overall is only a couple of meters more than your courier,” Natalya said. “We’re about the same in beam, but we’ve got a lot more headroom.”
Pittman eyed the pair of Burleson drives and then measured the compartment with her eyes.
“Kickers are behind the bulkheads on either side,” Natalya said. “Tankage below us.”
“Where are these gas scoops I keep hearing about?” Pittman asked.
“They’re amidships under the decking along with a refining plant,” Natalya said.
“Probe launcher?” Pittman asked.
“Amidships over the passageway. There’s a hatch for loading the launcher in the overhead,” Natalya said.
“I didn’t know that,” Zoya said.
“Not exactly something we use,” Natalya said, grinning. “No probes to launch and no reason to launch them.”
Pittman nodded. “I can see why you’re not exactly enamored of the new ship.”
“I’ll admit I’m spoiled,” Natalya said. “This ship has been my home for a long time. Even our apartment isn’t really home. Just a place to go when we’re off the ship.”
“Having seen this, I’m wondering why we didn’t just update the model for this and roll it out instead of starting from scratch.” Pittman sighed. “I suppose it’s not too late to do that.”
“There are a lot of aspects of the new ship I think will work well,” Zoya said.
“Like what?” Pittman asked.
“Long legs. Specialized for data collection and dissemination. The solo pilot will work well on shorter missions.” Zoya shrugged. “The galley is kind of silly, but that’s not a show stopper. The couch is a cheap fix. The drive will be the problem.”
Pittman looked at Natalya. “What do you think?”
“I think she’s right,” Natalya said. “Adding the second drive won’t actually change the power system that much. You’d never run them both at the same time. Generally, the navigation systems alternate between the two to spread the load. Having enough capacitor to actually drive it matters.”
“So I’ve learned,” Pittman said with a grimace.
“Punching a slot in the decking and rearranging the drive compartment will take some fiddling. If Downs really did use a scaled-down Scout model for the basic layout, there’ll be room to put a clone of the existing drive right beside it. They’ll be cramped but they’ll fit,” Natalya said.
“Shorter mission means less fuel, food, gas,” Zoya said. “I suspect that if you re-spec it for two weeks instead of two months, you’ll find a lot of space you can recover.”
Pittman cast her gaze around the compartment again. “That’s probably true. What is Dorion thinking in terms of actual mission run?”
Suicide Run (Smuggler's Tales From the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper Book 2) Page 12
