“Yes, Captain, I think that would be secure enough.”
“Chief?”
“Good idea, actually. If we can get them off the ship and give their scrubbers a chance to recover, we may be able to get them stable enough to finish on their own.”
“Can our scrubbers handle the load?”
“At least that number, Skipper. I’ve got half our scrubbers shut down at the moment to save power.”
“Can the girls handle the extra mass, Chief?”
“Docked up we won’t be able to have the sails up, but we’ll be moving inward.”
I took one more wistful glance at the priority delivery plot on the drop down above my head. “Well, it wasn’t meant to be, I guess. At least it won’t be a total loss.”
“Why’s that, Captain?” Mr. Pall was looking up.
“We weren’t going to make any money anyway, Mr. Pall. The least we can do is save their lives on the way.”
“Unless they’re pirates, Skipper.”
“True, but maybe we’ll capture them and there’ll be a reward, Mr. Pall. Try to look on the bright side.”
“Excellent point, Captain.”
“That telemetry channel, Mr. Pall?”
“Yes, Skipper, we’re already linked and adjusting courses now. The new plot should be on the helm as we speak.”
Ms. Thomas turned to Mr. Schubert. “Helm?”
“New course loaded, and ready for execution, sar.”
“Execute new course, Helm.”
“Execute new course, aye, aye, sar.”
I watched for a bit as we shifted course and trimmed sails to begin matching velocity with the crippled ship. “Well, I should go tell Mr. Wyatt we’ll be having guests for dinner.”
Chief Gerheart followed me off the bridge. When we got to officer country, I turned to look at her over my shoulder. “You don’t really think they’re pirates, do you?”
She grinned. “No, I don’t. We’re too close in and the story was just ragged enough to be real.” She paused and rubbed one finger along her nose. “He did raise a good point, though. Just because I’ve never heard of a ship being successfully hijacked, doesn’t mean there hasn’t been one.”
“Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence, eh, Chief?”
“That’s what my daddy used to say, Captain.”
We’d made it down to the mess deck by then, and I headed in to share the news with Mr. Wyatt. The chief headed to engineering to crank up our extra scrubber capacity. We were going to need it.
Chapter Forty-Three
Jett System:
2372-April-06
It took us closer to four stans to match velocities. I called the crew to stations at 1700 and briefed them on the ship’s announcer. Mr. Ricks was stationed at the lock, and Chief Gerheart had prepped and run up the emergency coupling that would allow us to lock nose to nose.
Between Mr. Pall’s astrogation and Mr. Schubert’s delicate hand on the helm we came into position with zero delta velocity between the two ships, lined up at just over twenty meters. We’d hold, and the Sarcastic Voice would nudge in. While we had better air, they had less mass and more responsive thrusters. They’d have the better chance for a good first lock.
Ms. Thomas turned from her station. “We have zero delta-v, Captain. Ready to commence docking.”
“Signal our partner, Ms. Thomas, and let’s start the dance.”
“Aye, aye, Captain. Signaling now.” She hit a key. “Signal sent and acknowledged, Captain.”
I sat back in my chair and tried to look nonchalant. “Nobody sneeze.”
Mr. Pall chuckled and I heard Mr. Schubert sniff back a laugh.
Ms. Thomas announced. “They’re coming now. Delta-v of negative one meter per second.”
We watched as the smaller craft moved closer to us. “Minus half a meter per second.”
The helm on the other ship did an excellent job in cutting their relative motion just as the two ships bumped. We felt the nudge, but it was barely more than we got on docking. Ms. Thomas reported. “Locks engaged.” She paused. “Seal is good.”
On the run in, we’d explained that we wanted to keep as much of the bad air on their ship as possible and that we’d be using the locks to isolate the two ships to minimize the load on our scrubbers by not bringing a lot of bad air with them.
I got up from my chair. “Steady as she goes, people. I’m gonna go greet our guests.”
I scampered down the two ladders and jogged to the brow just as the first of the party was entering our lock. I peeked through the view port and saw three older couples each pair with one of the smaller ship’s mattresses. They were in light duty emergency ship suits and their skin looked a little gray through the nearly transparent material.
Chief Gerheart sidled up and peeked through beside me. “Think they’ve got assault weapons in those mattresses?” Her voice was almost a whisper and I choked back a laugh.
“Air has been replaced, Skipper.”
“Open it up, Mr. Ricks.”
“Opening the lock, aye, aye, Captain.”
The latches clanked slightly and the inner doors swung up. Our guests shuffled tiredly aboard and stood looking a bit lost and bewildered. “Come in, ladies and gentlemen. Just follow this passage way and Mr. Wyatt will take care of you.” I pointed down the passage and Mr. Wyatt waved from the door of the mess deck.
They shuffled on down the passage and Mr. Ricks cycled the lock closed again. Two more groups of passengers came through. The next were younger and a bit more fit looking, but still not very lively as they shuffled off, each pair dragging a mattress with them. They all got sent down the passage where Mr. Wyatt was serving a light meal and plenty of fluids. The noise grew as each new group joined the gathering throng.
The last group through consisted of five officers including a very tired looking woman wearing gold stars on her collar. The inner lock opened and they stepped through in good order. The captain saluted the ship and then me. I returned the honor before taking her hand. “Welcome aboard, Captain.”
She smiled tiredly. “Thank you, Captain. I don’t think words are enough to express just how grateful we all are for your assistance.”
“Timing is everything, Skipper. We happened to be in the right place at the right time.” I held a hand out to indicate the passage. “Your passengers should be getting something to eat and drink. Shall we join them?”
I led the way with Captain Allison beside me. Chief Gerheart fell in beside a stocky man with engineering flashes on his collar.
Mr. Ricks cycled the lock closed and secured it as we headed toward the gathered party.
Mr. Wyatt had lined up the mattresses on the deck and against the bulkheads so the visitors could sit and lean on something. The table itself served as a combination buffet and work station with several of the more lively looking passengers helping to make more sandwiches and ladle soup into china mugs.
As Captain Allison took in the scene, I could see the tension begin to seep out of her frame. I turned to the group behind me. “Please, help yourselves. Get something to eat and drink. Breathe a little bit and then we’ll get our heads together to see what the next step is.”
I put a hand on Captain Allison’s arm to get her attention. “Why don’t you and I and our Engineering betters grab some food and adjourn to the cabin. We can put our heads together there.”
She nodded. I saw the two Engineers already had their heads together. I headed for the soup line myself but Mr. Wyatt caught my eye and nodded to two covered trays on the sideboard. “I thought you might like to leave this little operation to us, Skipper.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wyatt. Very thoughtful of you.”
I grabbed one tray, Chief Gerheart grabbed the other, and we led the way back out of the hubbub and up the ladder to the cabin. I popped open the door and deposited my tray on the head of the small conference table. Captain Allison followed me in but the view of her ship just outside the port drew her like a magne
t. The packet had a much lower keel to dorsal profile so her bridge was right outside the armor glass and not more than ten meters away above a gently curving bow.
She smiled and, if there was a glitter in the corner of her eye, I didn’t see it. I got busy with the two chiefs to make sure they didn’t either. In just a few heartbeats we had plates of sandwiches, mugs of soup, and even a carafe of coffee distributed.
Captain Allison turned back to us. “I don’t get to see her from this view very often, Captain.”
“One of the oddities of shipboard life,” I said. “You see everybody else in action, but seldom see yourself unless you’re tied up someplace and not doing anything.” I remembered my manners then and indicated Chief Gerheart. “Captain Allison, let me formally introduce my Chief Engineer, Gretchen Gerheart...” The two women shook hands briefly.
“Call me Allie, Chief.”
“Greta.”
Captain Allison turned to me. “And let me introduce you to my chief, Richard Green.”
I offered my hand and he took it in a business like grip and a nodded politely. “Chuck works for me, Skipper.”
“Call me Ishmael.” I grinned at their reactions and some memories from my youth.
I realized they were waiting for me to sit. I hurriedly took a seat at the head of the table and helped myself to a bite of sandwich so they’d not feel constrained by protocol.
The short flurry of replenishment ended rather quickly. “So, let’s open up this can of worms, shall we?” Seeing general nods around the table I turned to Captain Allison. “What’s the condition over there?”
“Scrubbers at ten percent and failing. CO2 approaching critical levels. You can breathe it still, but for some of those people–like the Carrolls and Wassinks–they weren’t doing all that well when we picked them up.” She shrugged. “The scrubbers just aren’t engineered for that level of abuse, and we burned through our filter cartridges in nothing flat. We even picked up a few more at the Outpost, but they weren’t exactly in first rate condition and they failed within a day or two.”
I could almost see Chief Gerheart’s wheels turning as the sapphire flashes of her eyes went back and forth between watching what the captain was saying and the expression on her chief’s face. When the captain finished her report, Greta looked up at me with a small nod.
I turned to our guests. “Okay, then, it seems to me that our first priority is to clear that CO2 load out of your ship. We don’t want to add cleaning your bad air to the load already on our scrubbers. Can you vent most or all of your bad air now that the ship’s not full of people? Replenish with a good air mix?”
The captain looked to her chief who nodded in return. “Should be easy enough now that we don’t have to work around passengers, Captain, but what then?”
“Then we can open the locks between the ships and your people can go sleep in their own beds. We can set up some blowers to move the air between us, and send to the Orbital for some replacement cartridges.”
Chief Green blinked. “Can your scrubbers handle us?”
Greta smirked. “We’re a tad over engineered for a crew of eight, Chief. I think when the built this hull they expected a crew of forty and they build scrubbers for all of them.”
“What they didn’t build was bunks,” I said. “We’re going to get awfully cramped in here with all of your people on mattresses in the passages and mess deck.”
Captain Allison looked down at her hands where they cradled the almost empty mug of soup. “As crowded as we all were on the Voice, I’m not sure they don’t see this as a step up, Captain, but you’re right. One step at a time.” She started to rise.
“Take a break for a minute, Allie.” She looked at me. “We’ll be all better off if we do this right and carefully the first time. Too much haste gets in the way of making good speed.”
Chief Gerheart snorted but hid her face in her coffee mug.
“Chief, can we maneuver with the ships tied together? How solid is that coupling?” I asked.
The two chiefs looked at each other, obviously trading secret engineering wisdom telepathically. They got the same pained grimace almost at the same moment.
They broke their mind meld and Chief Gerheart turned to me. “It’s about what you’d expect if we were docked, Captain. It’ll hold us against minor jolts and stresses, but ...”
Chief Green added a bucket of cold water to my already sopping blanket. “And if we’ve got to keep the locks open to keep the air moving, then you won’t want to risk breaking the seal. We could both lose a lot of air before they closed.”
I leaned over in my chair to get a better look at the bridge repeater on the top of my desk. “Well, we’re basically on a ballistic trajectory now with a decent delta-v against the orbital. We can coast along for awhile.”
Chief Gerheart turned to her counterpart. “How long would it take you to vent and replenish your air?”
“Three or four stans. As long as we’re suited up, we can flush it with nitrogen and keep hull pressure without having to worry about vacuum damage.”
Greta grinned. “The Verminator Protocol.”
Green grinned back. “Exactly.”
Periodically ships needed to do a complete fumigation to rid themselves of the odd stowaway vermin that had followed man into space. That was usually done by flushing all the breathable air from the ship and filling it with nitrogen gas, sometimes laced with a fungicide. It was usually done with the ship docked and the crew safely ashore. There wasn’t anything that would prevent it from being used in this situation, so long as the people aboard were suited and supplied with oxygen. The nitrogen would push all the carbon dioxide laden air out and would, in turn, be replaced with a clean mixture.
I glanced at the chronometer and nodded. “Okay, well, if you two chiefs would get on that? I think we can have these people in their own beds before midnight.”
Chief Gerheart stood with a nod and an “Aye, aye, Skipper.” Chief Green followed her.
Captain Allison settled back into her chair as they filed out and closed the door gently behind them. She sighed. “Now, we wait.”
“No, now, we do paperwork” I grinned. “Do you need to send any messages?”
She shook her head. “I notified the owners already, and I’ve actually got a shipment of scrubber cartridges on their way out by courier.” She grimaced. “It’ll be expensive but cheaper than the alternatives.”
“Yeah, dying is expensive and there are so many unfortunate forms.”
She laughed a little tiredly. “Amen to that, Captain.”
“Well, I need to send some signals to the owner and our agent on Jett. We’re going to be a little late to dinner.”
“Sorry about that, Captain, but thanks.”
“Glad we could help.”
I crossed to the desk and started putting together reports to DST’s office on Jett for forwarding back to home office in Diurnia. Captain Allison helped herself to another mug of coffee and chewed half-heartedly on the end of a sandwich. I attached a copy of the distress call to my messages and sent them off with a priority routing.
“It was greed.” I looked over to where Captain Allison stared into her coffee mug.
“Captain?”
“We got greedy. Or perhaps it’s that no good deed goes unpunished.”
I nodded sympathetically. “The number of passengers?”
She grimaced. “Yeah. We run this junket out to the Outpost on a three-legged course. It makes for a nice run with some usually polite passengers. Most of them aren’t really high rollers. They just want to think they are.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. The real high rollers fly their own yachts. We get the people who are just looking for a little adventure. They work all stanyer and save for an exotic holiday. Some of them, it takes more than a stanyer.” She sighed. “Me? I’d like a nice vacation on a desert island with no clock and my Chuck on call.”
I must have looked surprised. She chuckled.
“Oh, yeah. I’m sleeping with my engineer.” She paused for effect. “We got married about twenty stanyers ago when I made captain. I tell him it’s because I know how hard it is to keep good help.”
We shared a quiet laugh, then she continued. “We had a group ready to head home. Almost a full load, but they’d met friends and they all wanted to come home together. One-Eye was just about fed up with them, too. They’d run out of funds and were just taking up spaces at his tables. All they had was their return tickets. One of our sister ships was supposed to pick them off in a few days but they were in a hurry and the owner said to take them.” She stared dreamily into her coffee mug, riding the course of her memory. “It started out as just a couple over. By the time we pushed off, it was eight.”
“They must have been very friendly to get extras into the ship. Where’d they all sleep?”
“With each other, I think. They weren’t too concerned by it, and I didn’t pry.” She shook her head. “We’d gone as high as twenty-four before. It was a little close, but not dangerous. The models said we should have been able to make it, and we probably would have but for the contaminated cartridges we got from the Outpost. Odin said they’d been slightly used. I should have asked by what.”
She sighed and stood to gaze out the port at her abandoned bridge.
“He didn’t charge me much, and I should have known I got what I pay for out there.”
I snorted. “Not just out there.”
She huffed a quiet laugh in agreement. “Too true.”
Conversation lapsed for a time. “How soon before the spare cartridges get here from the station?”
“Day after tomorrow.” She looked haunted.
“Ouch.”
“It was not looking pretty, Ishmael.” She looked at me. “Thanks.”
“I’m glad we could help.”
She sighed. “Well, I need to go show the flag. Let them know what’s happening.” She put her mug back on the tray.
Captain's Share (Trader's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper) Page 31
