by Rob Buckman
“YES!” Mike yelled at last, immediately backing off on the breaking thrust, hearing Gramps chuckle in the background.
“Thought you’d like that.”
“Rad, and meteor shield to max, Gramps. Here we go!”
* * * * * *
Captain Jenkins sat on the Bridge couch of the Titan sipping coffee, a frown on his face; his eyes were locked on his Doppler radar. What it told him he didn’t like. The Queen Ann was now so deep into the atmosphere it was questionable whether he could get down to her. He knew the limitations of his tug better than anyone, and risking her down that deep made him break out in a sweat just thinking about it. The liner had stabilized her downward drift so she wasn’t sinking any deeper, at least for the moment. How long she could maintain her altitude was anyone’s guess if they didn’t get their fusion reactor back online. The Titan’s fuel was another concern, and extracting pure hydrogen out of that soup down there was questionable. He listened to the Lady Penelope haggling with the shipping agent and getting nowhere. It was clear she was in contact with the captain of the Queen Ann on a private company channel, encrypted of course. He would have loved to be able to listen in on that conversation, but he didn’t have the equipment to do it. His best guess was that the Penny wouldn’t take a standard towing contract, nor would the Sammy, that left him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to take it either.
“Captain!” The helmsman Rock Hanson called.
“What?” He asked, looking up.
“We’ve got a ship coming in awfully fast here.” Charlie Jenkins stood up, walked over to the console, studying it for a while.
“Who the hell would be coming in that fast…” He stopped. “Shit! I bet that’s the Prometheus.”
“The Prometheus! What’s that pile of rust doing here?”
“Damn it! She’s not slowing for a zero/zero either!” Charlie Jenkins muttered.
“Then what the hell is she doing?” Jenkins grabbed the portable mike and keyed the contact.
“Prometheus, this is the Titan, do you copy?”
“We copy you, Titan. How’s the weather down there?” Mike’s voice came back.
“Warm and sunny with a chance of rain! What the hell do you think it's like, boy!”
“Just the sort of weather I enjoy.”
“Mike, I know what you are going to do, but don’t do it! The Annie is in too deep; the pressure will crush you like an egg!”
“Is that what the stupid kid’s going to do?” Rock asked in surprise.
“Shut up, Rock! That kid, as you call him, is a better man at the helm on his worst day, than you ever will be on your best day!” Rock snapped his jaw shut, face red with anger. It wasn’t often Jenkins snapped at him, and it wasn’t something he liked. “Mike, you know me. I’m not bullshitting you here just to stop you. Let me talk to Andy.”
“He’s listening.”
“Andy, tell me you’re not going down there?”
“Someone has to or we lose everything, the ship, the passengers and crew.”
“Don’t you think I know that!” Charlie Jenkins shouted back. “Jeez! If I thought I had a chance, I’d go down anyway, and fuck the contract.”
“I know that, Charlie. In something like this I’d take your word for it any day.” Jenkins nodded, as if agreeing with something the helmsman couldn’t understand.
“You’re going in, aren’t you?” It wasn’t a question.
“That I am, Charlie, or I should say, Mike is. He’s at the helm, I’m on suspension, remember.”
“Shit!” Jenkins muttered to himself. “Gramps, don’t you think you should rethink this, especially with Mike at the helm?”
“What's wrong with me being at the helm, Jenkins!” Mike voice growled back at him. Charlie Jenkins winced. He hadn’t meant it to come out like that, not with the kid listening. He knew Gramps would understand what he meant.
“Nothing, Mike. I didn’t mean…”
“Screw you, Charlie Jenkins, and the tug you drove in on!” With that Mike blasted past the three tugs with 50 nautical miles to spare. The Prometheus plunged down into the Jovian atmosphere like a rock, homing in on the radar echo from the stricken liner.
“Prometheus to the Queen Ann, do you copy?”
“We copy you Prometheus, how many other tugs do you have with you?” Came a crackling reply.
“None, just us.” Mike tweaked the video frequencies to try to pick up a visual, but the fuzzy static of ionization didn’t clear.
“None?”
“No, sir.”
“Then I think we are doomed. There is no way one tug can pull us out of here, son.”
“I disagree, Captain. The Prometheus is an ex-Royal Navy deep-space tug, and between the two of us I think we can do it, or at least get you up high enough for your passengers and crew to use the life pods.”
“I don’t see how. We have no engines, and the fusion reactor won’t restart. We are barely maintaining our present altitude on a wing and a prayer.”
“What about your landing and docking thrusters?”
“They are online, but they don’t have enough power let alone reaction mass.”
“You have all that ice between hulls.” The fuzzy image of the captain froze for a second.
“Hadn’t thought of that. What do you propose?”
“Not a straight up pull, but a rotation orbit, climbing as we go. If you can keep a steady upward thrust with what you have, we’ll do the pulling. Once we get moving at a reasonable rate, I’ll start her up.”
“I’ll have to get with my chief engineer and see about converting ice to reaction mass. Hold on.” He vanished from the screen.
“How we doing down there, Gramps?”
“As good as can be expected.”
“We need to squeeze as much power out of the pile as we can.”
“I know, and I’ll have her purring like a kitten for you.”
Mike nodded, and maneuvered the Prometheus ahead of the Queen Ann to take up the tow, despite the turbulence. To his chagrin, he had to go a lot deeper than he intended as the Jovian atmosphere interfered with the tractor mooring cleat hookup. Sinking lower, he kept reaching out for a lock hearing the old girl groan and protest as she shook around him. Could the Old Lady actually pull her out? Mike wasn’t sure of the answer now, but they were going to try. Around him, the hull moaned in distress, groaning as the pressure tried to crush her. Off to one side, one of the smart screen “windows” cracked and went dark telling him just how much the Prometheus’ shields were bucking. A few times sweat popped out on Mike’s forehead at a particularly loud one. Then he shook himself. If the hull failed, he’d never know it. At this depth, the cold and pressure would kill him instantly, and he’d probably never know it, or so he hoped.
“Prometheus, my chief engineer tells me he can start bleeding off reaction mass in ten minutes.”
“How long can he keep it up and feed all of the thrusters?”
“As long as you want. We use a lot of water on this bucket.” A wan smile crossed the captain’s tired face.
“I’m going to start pulling now; don’t want to wait any longer than I have to. As soon as they’re online, fire up the thrusters, I’ll pick it up from there.”
“I copy that Prometheus. Will comply. Captain Phillips, out.”
“Here we go, Gramps.”
“I’m ready.”
Mike fed power to the massive engines, notching it up by degrees, hearing the generator and the inertial compensators scale up. The Prometheus was originally designed to haul battleships and million-ton freighters around like a dog on a leash, but at first nothing happened as she took up the strain. Mike fed more power to the graviton drive plates feeling the Old Lady shake like a dog shedding water as bit by bit she inched forward, the old tug gradually overcoming the dead weight of the Queen Ann and the gravity trying to pull her down. In the aft screen, Mike could see the turbulence in the thin atmosphere, but it didn’t last in the 230 mile an hour “wi
nd”. A thought struck him, and he slowly began to turn the Prometheus into the wind.
“What are you doing, Mike?”
“Bringing her around into the wind.”
“Huh?”
“We might be as aerodynamic as a rock, but heading into these winds should give us some lift.”
“Could be right.” Speed in itself wasn’t the answer, lift was. The relatively flat bottom of the Prometheus’ hull would give them some lift if he angled up just right.
Even against the powerful head winds, the Prometheus slowly picked up speed as the deck bounced and shuddered under him. One at the time he slipped his arms through the shoulder harnesses and snapped them shut across his waist. He was fighting the helm now as the old girl seemed to want to do everything but go up. The inertial compensators warbled up and down the scale as they tried to compensate for the sudden shifts in wind velocity. Mike muttered a silent prayer that they wouldn’t fail.
“Thrusters on line, Prometheus.”
“Copy that, Captain, angling up now.” Through the soles of his feet, Mike could feel the thrumming of the graviton generators as they struggled to overcome the pull of the planet, but it wasn’t enough. After two full rotations of the gas giant, they were no higher.
“I’ve got to have more thrust, Gramps!”
“I know, I know. Taking the pile over red line now.”
“Shit!” Mike muttered. He didn’t like the sound of that.
“Be careful, Gramps.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“We can break off if you want!” Sweat prickled Mike’s face, and he was having second thoughts about their ability to pull this off.
“We're committed, son. We can’t just abandon the Queen Ann now.”
“But, Gramps…”
“Mike, we committed to rescue these people, and that’s what we are going to, now shut up and drive, sailor.” Gramps voice whiplashed back at him. It was a voice he’d never heard before. It was a voice that many people would have recognized, the voice of command, brooking no argument or discussion.
“Yes, sir!” He gulped, gripping the helm harder.
Inch by precious inch they lifted, rotation after rotation as Mike struggled to pull the Queen Ann from the planet’s deadly embrace. The comm system crackled to life as they emerged from the dark side, and the fuzzy image of an officious woman came on the screen.
“This is Jean Maxwell, shipping agent for the Queen Ann, Prometheus, do you copy?” It was clear she’d been calling for some time, by the note in her voice.
“This is the Deep Space Tug, Prometheus, Captain Gray Commanding.”
“Prometheus, I understand that you have the, Queen Ann in tow."
“That is correct.”
“On whose authority did you take up the tow?”
“No one’s. Any ship in distress is entitled to aid and assistance under all international, interstellar, and maritime laws; you should know that.”
“Understand, Prometheus, you are not, I repeat, not to continue the tow once the Queen Ann is out of immediate danger.”
“What the hell are you talking about!” Mike yelled back, sweat dripping off his chin.
“You do not have authorization nor am I authorizing you to continue the tow once you have removed the Queen Ann from immediate danger.” Even with all his troubles, Mike took a second to look at the screen in astonishment.
“You stupid cow! I’m not abandoning the tow until the Queen Ann is out of the atmosphere, and clear of ANY danger.”
“Maxwell! I protest!” Captain Philips cut in. “The Prometheus is risking everything coming down here to get us out…”
“That’s not the point. I have awarded the towing contract to Captain Jenkins and the tug Titan”
“So why isn’t his ass down here trying to haul them out!” Mike chipped in.
“You took it upon yourself to risk your vessel without conferring with me first.”
“By that time the Queen Ann would have been so far into the soup no one could have got her out!” He yelled back.
“He’s right, Maxwell. We could have sunk deeper in the time it took you to get your fat finger out of your cunt, and do the right thing.”
“Captain Phillips!! I resent that remark!”
“Why? Because it’s true? You would have wasted time, and put MY ship at even greater risk than she is now, and I’m not about to let any dockside shipping agent-cum-space lawyer do that!”
“It's questionable whether you risked your ship going in so close to the gas giant in the first place.”
“That’s neither here nor there, and a question for the Naval Court of Inquiry to decide, NOT YOU!”
“My decision stands!”
“Like hell!” Captain Phillips yelled. “Prometheus, you are hereby authorized to render all aid and assistance necessary to tow the Queen Ann to safe harbor.”
“Captain Phillips! You have no authorization to do that.”
“As ship’s master, I do, now that I’m hooked to a tug. I am hereby uploading a copy of that authorization to the Prometheus right now.”
“I copy that, Captain Phillips, receiving now.”
Jean Maxwell’s beet red face vanished from the screen.
“Jeez! How some people worry about credits and the bottom line when people’s lives are on the line, never ceases to amaze me,” Gramps grumbled from the engine-room.
“How we doing, Gramps?”
“Good, keep at it and we’ll have her out of here in no time.” Gramps coughed, and must have accidentally hit the control board as the screen went dead.
“Gramps, you all right down there?”
“Yeah, yeah. No problem.”
There was something in Gramps’ voice that Mike didn’t like as if he’d suddenly got sick. He thought about it for a second until the turbulence drew his attention away. The fight between the Prometheus and gravity was far from over and went on for a long time. Mike lost track feeling as if he’d been fighting the yoke for days instead of hours. Ten hours later Mike had managed to lift the Queen Ann fifteen hundred feet. It wasn’t much and still had a long way to go. There was no relief, no let-up, but Mike knew that. Gramps dared not leave the engine room to spell him at the helm so he grimly held on, concentrating on getting them all out of here.
“Prometheus, this is the Titan can we assist?”
“No!”
“I understand your feelings, Mike, but I can help.”
“Fuck you, Jenkins, you had your chance! You are not getting the haul away from us!”
“I wasn’t thinking of that, Mike.”
“Like hell you weren’t! Back off and stay backed off.” He growled.
* * * * * *
“That stupid fucking kid, who the hell does he think he is?”
“He doesn’t think, he knows.”
“Knows what?” Rock demanded.
“He knows he’s going to pull that ship out of there, and haul her all the way back to the dock, or die trying."
“Shit! He’s going to blow that pile of crap and take the Queen Ann with him.”
“Not with Andrew in the engine-room.”
Rock didn’t look convinced and snorted. “You watch, I bet we’ll be hauling that ship before long.” He chuckled.
Jenkins gave him a sour look, but said nothing. Rock wasn’t far wrong and he knew it. The Prometheus was old and even with her more powerful fission pile there was a limit to her output.
“That’s odd.” Rock murmured.
“What!”
“Take a look.” He said, a sneer crossing his face.
“Shit!” Was all Jenkins could think to say.
“What did I tell you?” He gave his captain a nasty grin.
* * * * * *
Mike’s struggles were finally rewarded when he saw the radar altimeter start to climb. It wasn’t great, but at least they were making headway. An alarm flashed in the corner of his eye, but by the time he looked it was gone. He looked over t
he instrument panel, a frown creasing his forehead. He wasn’t sure which alarm flashed, and that worried him, but he dared not let his attention be distracted even for something as unimportant as a momentary alarm.
“Gramps! Everything all right down there?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, why!” His Grandfather snapped back.
“Um, well, I just saw a warning light flashed and wondered what it was.”
“It was nothing, you concentrate on getting us out of here, and I’ll worry about the engines.” It didn’t sound like Gramps; snappish was the word that came to mind, and very unlike his grandfather’s normal voice. He pushed it to the back of his mind and concentrated on fighting the strange eddies that tried to pull the Prometheus and her tow back down again.
“By Christ! You’re doing it, Prometheus! Keep it up and we’ll be able to launch life pods if necessary at this rate.”
“I hope not, Captain. That would ruin our contract.”
“No fear of that lad, at this rate you will have us out of here in less than two hours.”
Captain Phillips was correct in his prediction, as the creaks and groans from the Old Lady’s hull lessened, but even so, Mike sweated blood as he fought the helm. His arms ached so badly he thought they’d drop off, and the muscles across his shoulders and back were numb. No matter what the geneticists had done, even Avalon enhanced muscles had their limit. At last he lifted the Queen Ann where at least they could launch the life pods, and any shuttlecraft if necessary to get the passengers and crew to safety, but their troubles weren’t over yet.
“Mike?” The engine-room screen lit up again.
“What’s up, Gramps?” He flicked his eye to the screen, then looked again. Suddenly, his Grandfather looked old.
“I need you to do something for me, son.”
“Huh?” Mike felt a knot forming in the pit of his gut.
“The old girl’s had it Mike, I need you to put her on autopilot and get to the life pod as soon as possible.”
“What!”
“Do it, son. Get to the life pod, now. I’ll meet you there.”
“Oh shit!”
“Titan, this is the Prometheus, do you copy?”