by John Ringo
"Land on a moon?" the CO asked.
"That or get it from a ring," Bill replied, thinking hard. "An ice moon landing has problems we've encountered before. The pads tend to melt the ice and if it refreezes getting out is bitch, pardon my language, sir. But if we pull up next to a ring and grab some ice out of those . . . We've never really been close enough to a ring to see how stable the orbits of the individual chunks are, sir. And, admittedly, our people are not as extensively trained in EVA as we might like for something like this. But if the rings don't work, we can always land on a moon. Every gas giant we've surveyed has had multiple ice moons."
"Well, that's one for the manuals," the XO said, making a note. "Life support consumables, lack of. Gather from gas giants and rings."
"Do we have the equipment to extract O2?" the CO asked. "I don't recall it as part of our package."
"Nothing in the SSM," the XO said, referring to the Bible of Submarine Operations. "Or the mission specialist's manifests, the Flight Readiness Manifest or the Payload Requirements Document. Checked them all."
"You extract it with electrostatic systems," Weaver replied. "At least preliminary extraction. Then you have to separate it with pumps. I'm pretty sure engineering can blage something . . ."
"Whenever I hear that word, I've learned to cringe," the XO said.
"Sir, I can safely say that we have the finest blagers in this entire solar system," Weaver replied.
"As far as we know, we're the only life in this solar system," the XO said.
"That, sir, was my point."
* * *
"The ship is running low on consumables," the first sergeant said, walking down the compartment before the assembled Marines. "The commander's trying to find some source of air and water. In the meantime, the water ration is cut in half and no showers. Personal hygiene issue is one pint of water a day. Use it for shaving your filthy beards. If we can't find it, we can head back to Earth easily enough, we're less than a day away. I'm told that one of the options may cause some pressurization issues. If so, we'll spend some time in the racks until they get things fixed. For now, get back to training. Second, you're up on the PT schedule next."
"Oo-rah!" Crowley said. "More PT, First Sergeant! I need to let my brain clear."
"Unfortunately," Top said, grinning maliciously, "no water means no PT. When you can explain the characteristics of a fermion you back off the quantum physics. Two-Gun, see if you can help him out with that. Make sure you cover why they can't form Bose-Einstein condensates."
* * *
"It is the reverse of an ion drive," Tchar said, holding one massive hand out. "Mangon wrench."
"So you polarize the molecules, then pull them in different directions," Mimi said, handing the Adar a wrench that was about half as long as she was.
"Yes," Tchar said. "Fortunately, we have spare electromagnets for the drive system. Both for stabilizing the sphere and for the electric propeller drive. Gibmak screwdriver."
Mimi handed over the tool, which looked very much like a Phillips head if about three times the size of any screwdriver she'd ever seen before.
"What are these tubes from?" she asked.
They were working in a small space to the port of the main engine room. The reason she was having to handle the tools is that while the space was plenty large enough for a human, Tchar had to lie on his belly and crawl into it.
The space was also packed with very large piping, bigger around than Mimi.
"A portion of the water coolant system for the reactor," Tchar said. "Not radioactive. It was the intake system for the reactor. We'll use this point to polarize the molecules, then extract them further on. The big problem will be installing the fans. The ship, essentially, doesn't have any. Fortunately, they left some pumps in place so we'll try to use those. The human machinist mates are working on that. Can you move that very large circular magnet?"
"I would be able to if it weren't stuck to the floor," Mimi said, tugging at the big magnet. "But not now."
"I suppose I shall have to," Tchar said, working his way out of the narrow gap. He grabbed the magnet and yanked it upwards, breaking the hold it had on the deck, then rolled it in ahead of him. "I could use some help with this. Nothing too heavy, but I'm not sure most people on the ship could fit."
"Not a problem," Mimi said, squeezing past him.
"If you could stand there," Tchar said, pointing to a narrow gap and handing her the large wrench. "I've disconnected the pipes as you can see and installed a mount for the magnet the machinist mates made for me. Now we have to lift it into position and attach it. I will lift it, you will attach it." He pointed to several large screws.
"Got it," Mimi said, picking up the wrench that was nearly as long as her arm. One of the screws, the size of her hand, went on the end and was held in place by another magnet.
"You will probably have to start it by hand," Tchar said, lifting the heavy magnet with a grunt and sliding it into the mount. "Now, if you will."
Mimi slid in the first screw and started it by hand, then slid three more in.
"And on the other side," Tchar noted.
She scooted under the magnet and picked up the screws on the other side, sliding them in. Then she got the screwdriver and tightened them as well as she could.
"That has it," Tchar said. "The pipes are braced at this point so they can hold the weight of the magnet." He picked up a communicator and pressed the button. "Red?"
"Here, Tchar."
"Try the pump."
A whistling sound started up after a moment and Mimi felt her hair blowing in a breeze.
"It's sort of . . . leaking," she pointed out. "That's going to the outside of the ship, right?"
"Currently it is bypassed to the internal air," Tchar said. "But, yes, that is a problem. But for this we have a human solution." He slid back and rummaged in his massive toolbox, finally lifting something out.
"You humans have the most amazing inventions," he said, holding up the roll of silver tape. "This is something called 'duck tape' which has, I have counted, over two hundred and sixty-seven uses. This makes two hundred and sixty-eight. I have always wondered: Why is it named for a water bird?"
* * *
"The ions can be selectively separated, but it won't be one hundred percent," Weaver said, gesturing to the large makeshift gas flow and separation system. "We're going to have to pump it down and separate it that way secondarily. This will just reduce the pumping problems."
"Commander, for once pretend I'm a fighter pilot with an English Lit degree and an interest in stars based mostly on how pretty they are," Spectre said.
"When you apply a magnetic charge to air molecules, it makes them sticky in different ways," Weaver said, grinning slightly. "So when you apply another magnetic charge to them, they pull away from each other. But they don't do it real well, unless you have a more elaborate setup than we can build. However, they will also turn into liquid at different temperatures and pressures. So we'll put them under pressure and some of them will become liquid before others. Nitrogen becomes liquid at a higher temp and lower pressure than oxygen. Oxygen goes liquid at a higher temp and lower pressure than hydrogen. So we're going to need three very high pressure, cryogenic pumping systems. Cryogenic means—"
"Really cold," Spectre said, nodding. "Know that one."
"So what we should get is mostly oxygen after the ion separation; then we'll pump it down to ensure we've separated it. Now, there's an alternative, if this works really well, to getting the water from ice. But it's kind of crazy."
"This entire mission is crazy," the CO said. "And I haven't had so much as a shower in a couple of days. Gimme crazy."
"Burn it," Bill said. "Put oxygen and hydrogen together and set them on 'fire' and you get water."
"Fire in a sub is not something most people like," the CO pointed out. "In a spaceship with nowhere to set down, it's even worse."
"Duly noted, sir," Bill said.
"So let's table
that one, Commander Weaver," Spectre said, grinning. "And let's not tell the crew you even thought of it."
"Yes, sir," Bill replied.
"When's this going to be ready?"
"About four hours."
"We've got about sixteen hours of O2 left."
"Also duly noted, sir."
* * *
"Stable orbit around Sirius Echo," the pilot said as the ship coasted to a stop in an orbit around the gas giant.
The Saturn-sized planet was twelve AU from the AO class star, well outside the life zone and, like every gas giant they'd seen, was striped in broad bands. In the northern hemisphere there was a large spot, similar to Jupiter's Great Spot, that indicated a stable gas giant "hurricane." In addition to this gas giant, there were two rocky inner planets, either one massive asteroid field or two slightly larger than Sol's and four more gas giants in the system. But this one's atmosphere, Dr. Dean had assured them, was the one most likely to have a broad water belt. The rocky inner planets both resembled Venus with a fiery atmosphere and little or no water. The other gas giants were far enough out that water would be deep in the atmosphere and harder to extract.
Besides fourteen moons and counting, the planet had six rings. Four were aligned with the planet's equator, like Saturn's, but two more, very thin, were at angled orbits.
One thing that had been discovered in Sol's system during the shakedown cruise was that "white" rings were composed of ice moons that had been torn apart by tidal stresses. Darker "black" rings were composed either of older ice that had picked up dust or, quite often, of rocky material. Fortunately, the largest of the rings was bright white, indicating recently formed "clean" ice.
"XO?"
"Sir?"
"Find out how soon we can get oxygen," the CO said. "I'm in the mood for a cleansing breath."
"Will do, sir."
* * *
"We have one last problem," Tchar pointed out. "At least, one that we're aware of. The pipes have a plug on them. It's an airtight screw fitting that's designed to be removed. But it's on the exterior of the ship, actually up underneath."
"That's going to be interesting," Bill said, looking over at the chief engineer.
"I would recommend an EVA removal under microgravity," the ship's engineer said.
Lieutenant Commander Dan Schall was a career sub officer, a "nukie" to the core. Short with brown hair going gray and a florid face, he was phlegmatic to an almost insane degree. However, given that he had lived his entire career around nuclear reactors that were right on the edge of being nuclear bombs in a cylinder underwater, phlegmatic was good.
"I'm not sure that's the best idea, Commander," Tchar said, clacking his teeth. "The seals on the system are not the best I've seen. That could result in explosive decompression of the engineering spaces."
"Which would be, in sub parlance, bad," Weaver said, smiling. "But getting to the damned thing in anything other than microgravity would be a bitch. I'd recommend evacuating the reactor spaces before we try it. I'll handle the EVA with the CO's permission. I'm trained in Wyverns. Can I get a Wyvern to it?"
"Yes," Schall said. "The inlets are at the base of the ballast vents. All you have to do is enter through ballast vent fourteen. But the patch is heavily bolted. It's designed to be removed, but not easily. And please bring it back with you. We don't have a spare."
"Duly noted," Bill said.
"There are other Wyvern-qualified personnel onboard," Tchar said. "Not only security, but the mission specialists. In the event of explosive decompression, they could stand by to support repairs."
"Good point," the Eng said. "I believe we have a plan."
"The write-up on this one is going to be interesting," the XO said. "Item one: Some of the machinist mates need to be trained in EVA."
* * *
The ship was equipped with microgravity tools. Bill had ensured that. What he had not ensured was that they had tools for every part on the ship. When he had turned up at the air lock with his torque compensating wrench, the machinist mate assigned to assist him had just laughed and handed him the wrench that fit. It was about half as long as Bill was tall and was not torque compensating. In fact, under "not torque compensating" in the dictionary was this wrench. It was the essence of torque. Torqueness to the nth degree. Torque-sausage. Torquemada. If there was a Nobel prize for torque . . .
"Preparing to EVA," Bill said as he closed the air lock door.
"Door is remotely released," the XO said over his radio. "Good luck, Commander."
"Roger that, sir," Bill replied. He dialed down the pressure in the lock and checked his internal monitors. No leaks in the suit. This was a good thing.
"Ready to exit," Bill said as the gravity fell off. They were out of normal space drive and in microgravity. He'd better get this over with, quick, or the crew was going to be bitching up a storm.
The air lock door opened and he clipped off a safety line, then exited. The Wyvern had been equipped with EVA "mag" boots and he got a boot on the hull, then lifted himself up to get the other in place.
"This is so cool," Bill muttered.
"Say again, Commander?" the XO asked.
"Sorry, sir, talking to myself," Bill said.
"Stay on mission, Commander," the XO advised.
Bill didn't reply as he started walking down the hull. He'd originally entered the fields that he had, hoping he could get into the NASA mission crews. Later he'd taken other paths when it was pretty clear he didn't get along with NASA. But he still wanted to get into space. He'd done a couple of EVAs before, but he never ever lost his love of the glory of the sight.
And this one was pretty darned glorious. The ship had taken up orbit well out from the gas giant but it was clearly visible, filling a quarter of the sky. For that matter, Sirius, the Dog Star, a star he'd looked at as a kid through his first telescope, was glaring blue-white at him off to his right. Cool didn't begin to cover it.
There it was. Sirius, the brightest star in Earth's night sky. The blue-white main sequence dwarf star that could be seen by almost every inhabitant of Earth except those living above about seventy-three degrees or so. Here Bill was, right smack in the vertex of the Winter Triangle or the constellation Canis Major or the "Big Dog." Weaver was as giddy as a school boy. The scenery couldn't have been more of a boyhood fantasy come true if there were naked women in it. Cool.
Hell, for that matter, climbing around on the exterior of a sub was pretty cool. He'd exited from air lock Four, which was another converted Momsen lock, and so he was walking on the "bottom" of the sub. It was the closest to Ballast Vent Fourteen but it was still a bit of a hike. For that matter, there weren't any clip points for his safety lines so he was having to use more magnets for those. Setting the magnets in place, in the Wyvern, wasn't the easiest thing in the world. He'd pretty much come to the conclusion that the Wyverns needed some work for EVA stuff.
Finally, he reached the entrance to the ballast vent. The thing was about six feet across and nine "deep." But getting into it was going to be tricky. And then there was the whole unbolting the thing under microgravity. Especially in a Wyvern.
He clipped in a safety line, then bent down and undogged his boots, getting one hand on the edge of the ballast vent and pulling himself inside. As soon as he turned on his external lights, he easily spotted the intake. It had six massive bolts holding it on and was about a meter across.
Bill pulled up his "legs" and planted them on the far wall of the vent, then got settled in a hard position where he could reach all six of the bolts but wouldn't shift when he applied torque with the torquiest wrench in the solar system.
"Command, EVA," Weaver said. "Preparing to remove patch."
"We see you, Commander," the XO replied. "Emergency teams in place."
He unclipped the wrench, which was tethered to the suit of armor, and applied it to the first nut. The nut didn't want to move, but the Wyvern had the power of a small machine press and it broke free easily enough. He sl
owly undid the nut all the way to the end, then removed it, carefully, and stowed it. There were spare nuts for the patch, but waste not, want not.
All six of the bolts came off easily enough after the first. But the patch was still holding. Bill tried to pry at it with the fingers of the Wyvern, but it wasn't moving. So he clipped the wrench back down and pulled out one of Tchar's massive flat-head screwdrivers. Placing it at the join he pried upwards.
The patch sprang off explosively, smashing into the far wall of the vent with a "Bong!" he heard through his armor, rebounding into his armor hard enough to nearly break him free from his position, then bouncing down into the depths of the ballast vent.
Along with patch came a blast of air and water. And it didn't stop.
"Command, EVA," Weaver said, as calmly as he could. "We appear to have explosive venting."
* * *
"Warning! Warning! Depressurization in Missile Compartment! All personnel to racks and suits!"
"Good thing we're already in the rack," Berg said. He had his zero-gee straps in place and, for once, wasn't nauseated in free-fall. Apparently the effects of the pink stuff had finally worn off.
"No maulk," Crowley said. "So can you apply super-cold temperatures to a gate and shut it down? I mean, it's based on a boson, right? And under super-cold conditions they'll gather together."
"No way to do it," Berg replied. "Not that I've heard of. But there might be some experiments in it. I dunno. Guy to ask would be the astrogator. He's the world's foremost gate expert. But as far as I know, the only way to close one is the way he closed one in the Dreen War, drop a super-huge quarkium package through the gate and get it to explode on the other side.
"I wonder what happened to those Dreen worlds," Berg said.
"Blew the grapp out of them," Drago said. "I heard that was a big grapping explosion."
