Rescue Branch (Kinsella Universe)

by Gina Marie Wylie

  “There are no large passenger vessels currently available in system. Ad Astra is closest to being ready, but they have the fans apart looking at the wear and tear that her latest trip caused.

  “Eagle assures me he can transfer the survivors to the Trojans in plenty of time. Each shuttle load is going to mean more time for those that remain -- and they’ll be bringing a limited amount of life support with them as well. Obviously, it isn’t going to be but a drop in the bucket.

  “This will be like the World War II rescue at Dunkirk -- a mess of small shuttles intending to take them off piecemeal. We are going to stage almost all available rescue vehicles out to the Trojans -- odds are, some of those shuttles are going to get into trouble.

  “You, Lieutenant Cooper, are a priceless asset at this time.”

  “Me, sir? How do you figure?”

  “The Space Service had nearly a hundred power engineers when Ad Astra made her first flight. A third of them went with her. Admiral Kinsella is wickedly intelligent. I don’t believe a smarter person has ever lived.

  “When she was making the crew arrangements for the second expedition, she got the President to name as ‘mission essential to the national security of the United States’ all the power engineers, and that any that absented themselves from their orders was a deserter, and subject to court-martial and the possibility of years in prison.

  “By the time Ad Astra was ready to leave for her second voyage, the Space Service had less than fifty power engineers, most of them tied to launching with Ad Astra on her second trip. You see, every country on Earth realized what Admiral Kinsella had realized from the outset: if you want to go into space in a meaningful way, a nuclear reactor is the power plant of choice. The Navy was slow off the mark protecting their resources, and more than two thirds of their nuclear power engineers were hired away, often for astronomic sums, by other countries.

  “Now the CNO has had the President declare all of the Navy’s nuclear engineers ‘mission essential’ too and they too are locked into the original terms of their enlistments.

  “Like I said, Admiral Kinsella is wickedly clever. She hid you, Lieutenant.”

  “Hid me?”

  “Lieutenant Cooper, you were seconded to the Space Rescue Service as a line officer, with no specialty. Lieutenant, the shuttle coming up for us carries another example of the genius of Stephanie Kinsella -- or maybe Anna Sanchez -- she’s one of the sharper pencils out there.

  “They procured a spare naval nuclear reactor in case they had problems during the construction of Ad Astra. It was sitting in a secure warehouse at Maunalua. Now it’s coming up and we’ll deliver it to the Miracle. That’s something like six billion Euros of French spaceship out there. The President has said that we may assist them in repairing their vehicle.

  “You’ll be the lead power engineer on the job. Only one other power engineer survived aboard the French ship -- they were all on duty when the accident occurred. He has a broken hand, but can help. The French will have another handful of their power engineers up in three or four days. More will be up in a week; until that second group arrives, you’ll be lead. Even afterwards, you’ll be the technical representative of the US Navy and in charge of the care and feeding of the reactor.”

  “And you’re going to drop this on a lieutenant, a little more than a year out of the academy?” Commander Townsend said, amazed.

  “She’s space qualified; she is the only qualified power engineer available. Do you feel you can handle this, Lieutenant?”

  Becky had listened with fascination and a lot of nerves. “Yes, sir,” she said simply. “If it’s the same model reactor as they used in Ad Astra, it’s a lot simpler than the one I worked aboard the Nimitz.”

  Captain Gilly studied her for a moment. “Captain, Commander, you’ll excuse me if I wish to speak privately to Lieutenant Cooper.”

  “Yes, sir!” The station commander said and launched himself. Commander Townsend was a little slower and not nearly as agile.

  “Lieutenant, I know Stephanie Kinsella. She had a perfectly reasonable explanation of why you are where you are. You couldn’t get me to bet that she didn’t give you private instructions to watch over me. Some day she’s going to be a mother and a dandy one she’ll be!

  “I’m not going to question you about what you may or may not have been asked to do. I’m going out there to assist the Miracle’s master in getting his passengers off. I’ve worked with Eagle before and I’ll coordinate. I will do nothing stupid and nothing dangerous. Please, concentrate on your task.”

  “I will, sir.”

  “Now a private bit of information, for your ears only and not to be talked about to anyone, not ever. The President loathes the French. If we save their bacon, he’s going to love it. This sort of thing isn’t presidential; it’s personal, petty -- and human one-upmanship. I tell you right now, that the President is going to be following this closely. You’ll never hear about it -- but if you screw up, you’ll feel it. If you succeed, again, you’ll feel it. I hate to put the extra pressure on you, but I want you to understand the situation.”

  Becky smiled. “Commander Jacobsen started teaching me to read between the lines back in the Academy. Commander Townsend has added to that. Thank you, sir.”

  “Now, go pack.”

  Becky laughed. “Sir, do you suppose one of those supply ships can bring up some more uniforms in my size? I was told to pack for a week. We’ve been here a lot longer than a week. I try to be fastidious, but it’s not easy.”

  “I have it on the authority of the President that the French would never notice. On the other hand, if I suggested to my daughter that she wear clothes she’d worn before; I’d never hear the end of it. If I suggested it to my wife -- I’d fear for my life. I’ll see to it, Lieutenant.”

  When they boarded the shuttle there was another lieutenant and a master chief already aboard, the chief with the devices for a master chief electrician on his sleeve.

  Captain Gilly spoke to the lieutenant first. “Lieutenant, what are you here for?”

  “Admiral Delgado sent me along to act as your aide, Captain.”

  “The admiral should know better; captains don’t rate aides. In any case, after a couple of days, Lieutenant Cooper can help out. Are you space rated?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Report to the station commander, explain the situation to him. He’ll see you’re shipped down promptly.”

  “I’m not afraid, sir.”

  “Apply for space rating, then. Lieutenant, we are en route to a most thoroughly busted ship. They lost three-eighths of their fans in less than a minute. Their reactor scrammed -- the most common reason for a reactor scramming that fast is that it’s leaking. A fifth of that ship’s crew were killed or injured in that accident. Meaning no offense, Lieutenant, but I aim to relieve their burdens, not add to them.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” The young officer headed for the lock and left.

  Captain Gilly turned his eye on the chief. “Who are you and what are you here for, Chief? Are you space rated?”

  “Sir, Master Chief William Pettigrew. Admiral Kinsella and Miss Sanchez told me this reactor was my responsibility. That I was to go wherever it went, until told otherwise. No, sir, I’m not space rated.”

  “Admiral Kinsella told you to do that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Lieutenant Cooper, any comments?”

  “Welcome aboard, Chief Pettigrew. I hope your life insurance is paid up,” Becky said. It sure sounded sexy in the movies! She thought she sounded like a dork.

  “Lieutenant Cooper is a nuclear power engineer, Chief. She’ll be your supervisor.”

  Becky endured his disbelieving look. Well, she was a little young!

  Becky realized the right tack. “Chief, if you’re concerned about my six months experience leading a third watch maintenance team aboard the Nimitz’s nuclear crew... contemplate the fact I now have about the same amount of experience in space as well. I’v
e successfully mastered such useful skills as crawling, walking and screwing things up and down.”

  “Sir, all I ask is to do my job.”

  “Your job, Chief, I can justify as essential -- unlike the lieutenant’s. I can send you down, though,” Captain Gilly said.

  “Miss Sanchez was the best boss I’ve ever had, sir. Whatever she wants, she gets!”

  They left Grissom Station and Captain Gilly grinned as Becky felt tugs and pushes in strange directions in the next few minutes as they oriented towards their destination.

  “Do you know why Grissom is located where it is, Lieutenant?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Planets and stars have gravity wells. So do moons. The larger the body, the larger the gravity well and thus the larger the volume of space that keeps a ship from entering High Fan. The LaGrange points are where gravity fields cancel each other out... so you can go right to High Fan.”

  As he said that, Becky felt a slight push, and then her stomach felt like turning inside out. It was all she could do not to be sick.

  “On High Fan most people feel something like sea sickness,” Captain Gilly told them. “There was a woman aboard Ad Astra who didn’t suffer -- as fate would have it, she’s the President’s daughter.”

  As quick as his thought was, they were back off High Fan. “Is there a problem, pilot?” Captain Gilly asked.

  “Our tasking has been briefly changed, Captain. We are now two light seconds behind the Earth in its orbit -- luckily for us the moon is on the other side.”

  “Who changed the tasking? Our mission is urgent.”

  “Admiral Kinsella made a suggestion to Admiral Delgado and he forwarded it to the President. We are going to pass close to an Aft Trojan shuttle shortly. It’s on a skew course; they are making no attempt to match velocities. We will have a thirty-minute window where we can conference with the powers that be back on Earth with only a two second delay. Admiral Kinsella thought that the slight delay would be useful.

  “A moment, Captain, while I establish the radio link.”

  A few moments later a familiar voice spoke. “This is Admiral Delgado, are you on line Mr. President?”

  “Yes, Admiral. There’s just me. You and Captain Gilly are my space staff.”

  “Captain John Gilly, Navy Lieutenant Cooper and Master Chief Petty Officer Pettigrew are on the link.”

  “Admiral Kinsella will be joining us briefly. Eagle of the Aft Trojans should be here as well.”

  A voice spoke, “I’m here. Admiral Kinsella, I’m going to censor news of this method of talking to Earth on the Trojans, or we’re going to have people wandering all over the place to talk to their neighbors. We’d gotten rather used to hour or two turn around times on messages.”

  “Eagle, you’re welcome!” Admiral Kinsella said with a laugh. “I want to say a few initial words, and then bow out of this. You see, I’m philosophically opposed to what you are doing.

  “The rescue doesn’t appear to present any insurmountable difficulties, only a number of mysteries, brain teasers, not matters of immediate importance to life and death.

  “This is about the long run.

  “The rescue should be relatively straightforward. Oh, I expect some unexpected glitches, but nothing you can’t handle. As a result, the French government is going to see no reason why it should change its policy of sending off thousands of people to a planet that hasn’t been discovered yet, where they will face as yet unknown hazards. If they get the passengers back intact, most of the crew and a functioning ship -- they will see no reason to abandon a recklessly dangerous plan. Other countries might try the same thing to try to get a jump on their neighbors. It’s my thesis that a few thousand deaths now might well prevent ten or twenty times as many deaths later.

  “On the other hand, I’m on vacation with my fiancé -- the first vacation I’ve ever had. If you need me you can find me, but for now, I’m going to return to our veranda and its view of the Tuscan Hills. The light here really is magic. Kinsella signing off.”

  “Can you verify that Admiral Kinsella has broken the connection?” the President said.

  “Yes, sir, she has,” the pilot said.

  “Malcolm! What the hell are you doing there!” the President exclaimed.

  “I’m a contract pilot with the Rescue Service. My wife and I got this contract.”

  “And my daughter tells me that you don’t understand why it is that Admiral Kinsella has it in for you. I told them never to use you.”

  “That was my choice, sir,” Admiral Delgado interjected. “He’s the best man for the job and it doesn’t hurt that your daughter doesn’t suffer from High Fan-induced nausea. Sir, there was a reason you called this meeting. We have used up a significant fraction of our communications window.”

  “Captain Gilly, you are requested and required to withhold the information I’m about to impart to you from Admiral Kinsella. The same goes for everyone who works with you. I am the only person authorized to decide who you can share this information with.”

  “I understand the order, sir. I assume this affects the rescue.”

  “Not exactly. Admiral Kinsella told me of her ‘philosophical’ objections at once; she understands why it is politically impossible to abandon that many people to their fate.”

  Becky coughed. That was such a mild euphemism for “kill dead.”

  “If Admiral Kinsella learned the details she would have switched from ‘resigned’ to active opposition. Captain Gilly, the French are unmitigated swine. Monsters of the worst sort -- but that doesn’t mean we can let those people die.”

  “I’m not sure I understand, sir.”

  “Captain Gilly, this is unbelievable, but that between two-thirds and three quarters of the French colonists are gutter sweepings from the banlieus of Paris. Mostly Muslim, minimally educated -- and that’s the men. The women are frequently illiterate. They’ve received no training or preparation for what they are about to experience. They are going blind to colonize a planet that no one has seen before; no one has the faintest idea what conditions will obtain there. There is a not unreasonable chance that they won’t find a habitable planet. One of Admiral Kinsella’s comments was that she doesn’t believe that ship has sufficient life support to go out and come back. Oh, food and maybe water, but not oxygen.

  “I want you to survey the ship’s consumables -- that’s the word right?”

  “Yes, sir,” Captain Gilly said, looking a little sick.

  “You’ll ostensibly be doing that survey in support of Eagle -- but don’t make any issues or say anything to the captain or crew of that vessel about what you learn. Get those people off that ship and back to safety. Fix up what you can fix. Let me know when you’re off. I’ll be filing charges asking the Federation to decertify France, alerting them there will be no more French vessels licensed -- they have recklessly endangered thousands of lives.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. President,” Captain Gilly acknowledged.

  “You, Eagle. I’m asking you to risk the lives of your family, friends and neighbors. I authorize you to take whatever measures you feel necessary to maintain order among those thousands, who are going to be mostly illiterate peasants, terrified out of their minds. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that their stability is fragile at best.”

  “Mr. President, while we didn’t know the details, we assumed that some of the colonists might panic. We’ve made arrangements to deal with it. Panic is a rather common affliction out here,” Eagle replied.

  Becky could only swallow, remembering a brash, confident Air Force pilot, reduced in five minutes to a fetal ball, sobbing uncontrollably.

  “Get this done,” the President commanded. “Do it safely. Bring them all back, if you can. I want to rub some noses in this. Get with it! Malcolm, this is your last Space Service contract. I’ve been wrong every time I’ve gone against Kinsella; I was wrong again by not making my wishes crystal clear.”

  “I’m eighteen, Daddy dea
rest. I can do as I please,” a woman’s voice stated.

  “You should at least finish college, Betsy.”

  “Daddy, my husband is teaching me to be a starship pilot. You may think there is something more important that I could learn -- but if I make the grade, it will be the crowning achievement, the most fulfilling moment of my life.”

  The President was silent for a moment. “Get going, Malcolm.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  There was another series of pushes, smaller this time, then the mild nausea came and went after little more than a minute.

  Captain Gilly grinned. “Lucky us, Miracle at Orleans is out about a minute and a half under High Fan, as opposed to Tau Ceti -- which was fourteen days. The average crew member lost two pounds in that time.”

  The pilot’s voice announced on the PA, “We’re about a half light second from our destination. It’s going to take us a few hours to match velocities and arrive. Rest, relax. If you got ‘em -- don’t even think about smokin’ ‘em!”

  He paused. “Contact has been made with the French ship, sir! You understand that we have to make a gentle approach?”

  “I understand. Better safe than sorry!”

  “Not only that, the French captain is afraid the passengers will mutiny if they realize a shuttle has docked. He doesn’t have the hands to maintain order with that many passengers.”

  “Understood.”

  “We’ll be entering a cargo hatch, aft, Captain. Gentle as a baby’s kiss! They say they’ll route us forward bypassing the areas that are radiologically hot... and missing all those banlieu peasants.”

  Nearly an hour later, the pilot’s voice came back. “Captain, the Miracle’s boss wants to speak to you.”

  “Put him on, make him aware it’s speaker phone.”