by George Deeb
There was a lot of residual heat left in the engine room, and without a cooling system to pull it away, it was still affecting the ship. The massive heart of the ship that was the engine had a tremendous thermal mass, and all that built up heat energy was radiating out from it.
"We'll have to vent the area!" said the copilot. "Engine room?" he called over the comm. There was no response.
"Is anybody th...".
"IT'S CLEAR!" Vaana yelled as she came running back onto the bridge, panting heavily. "Engine room is clear and sealed! Comm is down in that whole section of the ship."
"VENT IT!" Munen yelled.
"Ready to vent engine room!" replied Plessa.
Venting part of a ship, any part of a ship, is not as simple or automated a procedure as most others. It exposed crew and ship to too much danger to be something allowed to be done easily. Both the Copilot and the Engineer had their part to do to accomplish it. Exposing the interior of a ship to space did several very bad things. Everything in the exposed area could quickly became the same temperature of space – very close to absolute zero. The hull suffered reverse, and non-uniform stress when only one section of a ship was exposed, as they were about to do. Pressurized areas are constantly stressing outward, and vented areas are not - a relatively negative stress on the hull.
"Access ways and hatches - Secure." read Califas, from the checklist.
Plessa scanned the bulkhead status indicators on his panel, and activated the appropriate controls. This triggered very loud and very bright visible and audible warnings at each bulkhead location. No conscious person could miss the alarms. Ten seconds later the bulkhead doors were hydraulically closed, and secured with electromagnetic latches. Panel indicators for each entry location went from green to red. Red to indicate the entry way was sealed. Red to indicate no access or egress. Red to indicate that if anyone was left in the engine room, they would now be trapped and unable to get out. Red to indicate death.
"Access ways and hatches – Secured!" confirmed the engineer.
"Vent safety seals - Blow off." read the the copilot.
Sometimes, old fashioned brute force was the safest and most effective way to do a job. Safety seals on vents were too important to be easily released by an accidental touch on a control panel, a mistaken flip of a switch, or undetected pulse of a short circuit. They were held on over the vents by explosive welds. The welds were made of misoravis, a crystalline material as strong as that used to form the ship's hull. It is metallic in nature, and can be used to weld dissimilar metals together – an important characteristic in itself. Its most important property is that it is a very stable material, that can safely be melted by normal welding processes. Once it has solidified, it provides a high resistance to electric current.
When a very high voltage signal in the proper frequency range is applied across a section of a 'miso-weld', it overcomes the intrinsic barrier potential of the material's atomic structure, and it changes from a super resistor to a super conductor. Electric current through it then increases at an extremely rapid rate, causing a structural breakdown at the atomic level. The ripping apart of the atoms in the crystalline structure releases great amounts of binding energy. Once the reaction begins it continues in a cascading effect, increasing so rapidly, and completely, that a tremendous amount of heat is generated almost instantaneously, and the material explosively decomposes. Misoravis is, in effect, an explosive charge that can be safely hammered on, heated to melting, or basically maltreated, yet be triggered into destruction by the push of a switch.
To make it an even more foolproof system, the power and signal sources are mounted next to the seal. When a properly encoded signal is received, the embedded processor within the source supply unit applies the necessary voltage to the weld.
Chief engineer Plessa placed his left palm on his control panel. It was scanned, then outlined in green. With his other hand, he then touched each of the vent seal controls for the engine room. On the bridge it sounded like multiple claps of thunder. The ship shuddered as the selected welds exploded, physically blowing off the seals from the vents, and propelling them away from the ship. With the vent seals gone, the valves could be opened to release the compartment air to space.
"Vent safety seals – Blown!" confirmed the engineer. "Ready to vent."
"Alright," said Munen, "let's try a controlled vent. See if we can minimize the damage to the ship."
Califas nodded his agreement, and both men looked at the engineer. Still keeping his left palm on the screen of his control panel, Plessa touched a linear control indicator with his right index finger, and slid it down a third of the way. Valves slowly opened, and the sound of air pushing out to space could be heard.
"Controlled venting - Activated." replied the engineer. "1000 quint liffs per mirlot."
They waited for the changes to take affect. Several mirlots passed before Plessa reported.
"Temperature dropping. No change in hull pressure yet... Wait!... Hull sensors indicating minor drop in pressure... a little more... it's coming down!"
Vaana was out of her seat, practically hopping in excitement over to engineering.
Anxiously looking over Plessa's shoulder, she yelled "DISTORTION DOWN TO 1.2 ARCLEESONS - NEGATIVE TREND – YES!"
She was a very excitable young woman, and she had a very big smile on her face. It was infectious, and soon the rest of the bridge crew were smiling as well.
"Secondary cooling system failure!" stated the computer, its voice once again sounding female - it had determined that the danger of the hull rupturing no longer existed.
"It doesn't matter," responded Plessa, the engine is off line, and compartment temperature and pressure are dropping." There was relief in his voice.
"Let's get maintenance working on it,” Munen commanded, “although if I know Valian, he already has his crew ready to start repairs."
Munen knew his crew well, as a ship's captain should, and each man was a dependable and motivated part of the whole. Most were cross-trained in several fields of expertise, and all knew what to do without having to be told.
"I'm heading back to see if I can help. I'll see about getting comm back on line." Vaana said, as she left the bridge again.
"We should distribute the portables to the crew, and use the radio to communicate until the comm is back on line." said Califas.
"Is comm down only in engineering? Let's find out where it's out, and get the radios there." said Munen. "How long will backup power keep the lights on?…"
There was a lot to do, to get the ship back in operation.
2
We'll all die sometime
It wasn't good news, but then again they were all still alive. The exchanger unit is where the major work of converting power levels in the engine is done. Going from raw reactor level power to controlled thrust stream power is a volatile and dangerous process. Unlike a military ship where the exchanger is designed to bypass a lot of the intermediary power levels (if necessary) and go almost instantly from a dead stop to full thrust, a commercial vessel like a mining ship uses all the intermediary power levels during acceleration. Accelerating in this manner is loosely similar to a gear box going from low gear to high, one gear at a time. The trade-off is a much shorter operational lifespan for the military ship's exchanger, versus a much longer MTBF (Mean-Time-Between-Failure) for the commercial ship's exchanger which comes with the accompanying reduction in operating cost.
During normal operation the exchanger is sealed, and it is quarantined from the crew for safety reasons. Catastrophic failure of the exchanger results in only one thing - destruction of the ship. Such a failure had not been recorded in many tanrhas, since the development of the Echo class of engines. Exchangers had developed into one of the most important parts of an engine, and also one of the most reliable. The Orysta had not been destroyed, but the leaking plasma stream had damaged the exchanger control unit, the internal containment unit, and the engine control computer - and that was jus
t some of the larger stuff. Multiple smaller and interconnected systems were also damaged. Some beyond repair. This situation had been discussed and analyzed over and over again, by all the crew members. In a situation like this, you wanted all the available minds working on a solution.
Several emergency beacons had already launched - you never want to depend on just one message in a bottle, even if the bottle has its own navigation and communication system. Beacons had only a limited propulsion system, which was designed to position them at a stable point in space – a point not immediately affected by planetary gravity or other forces that could pull them to their destruction. More would be launched at intervals determined by the ship's main computer, to form a trail from the point of engine failure to the arrival at the planned destination.
It would take time before any help arrived - if it ever did. The history of space travel had too many instances of lost ships, never heard from again. You don't depend on hope when you are the crew of an inter-galactic ship - of any type. The Orysta was well equipped. It had a machine shop, mining equipment, some raw materials, and a skilled crew. They could literally build another ship if they had to, but they couldn't manufacture the sophisticated equipment that made one easier to run. And they couldn't manufacture an engine capable of inter-galactic travel.
The plan was straight forward. They would land on the first suitable stellar body, re-enforce any weakened sections of the hull, repair as much damage as possible, replace damaged safety systems with spares, bypass anything that couldn't be repaired, and if that wasn't enough they would manually control any other systems. A lot of the crew were ex-military, and if there was one thing you learned in the military it was how to work with minimal or damaged equipment. But before any of the major repairs and fabrication could be done, they had to get the ship landed - without breaking it. A ship adrift in space was exposed to too many dangers.
The odds weren't very good. All the factors involved with the loss of their engine were stacked against them. The timing was uncanny. They were at maximum-cruise-normal speed when the engine failed. Now they were carrying too much momentum, too close to the destination, with no effective and controllable way of dissipating the energy. And then there was the IGT!
They were presently in the Vialactea galaxy, which by inter-galactic law meant they were restricted in their actions. This was an occupied galaxy, and although the native species had not yet perfected space travel, they did have the technology to detect space travelers. By law, they would have to do everything within their means to avoid contact with the natives, or exposure of their presence, as long as these actions did not endanger the crew. “THE CREW” is what the law stated in simple and unambiguous terms, and this law had sent a lot of good people to prison, as well as costing companies a lot of value in fines. When the law was first instituted, some had thought the protection of their ship was implied by the law, but this was only true if it directly affected the safety of the crew.
There was a well known saying throughout the Interconnected Galaxies Treaty (the IGT) signatories - "The law has no mercy for the ignorant or the stupid." To be qualified to be a member of an inter-galactic ship's crew, every crew member had to be knowledgeable in inter-galactic law. It didn't matter if you were a doctor, an engineer, or a cook. Every member of every crew of every type of ship was regularly tested on their knowledge. Changes in the law were disseminated to all member species, and a vessel's legal database was verified and updated as part of its normal maintenance procedures. Every operational space dock was liable for legal action if they failed to update a ship's law database. If the new law was complicated, or had potential to be misunderstood, the crew of any docking ship were given instruction on its meaning and associated penalties. No one was exempt, and your participation in the instruction was logged by computer, sent to the Distributed Registries Exchange and your employer's base of operation.
The Distributed Registries Exchange, besides being a location where a lot of inter-galactic documentation was accessible, also handled the confirmation, registration, and transmission of legal agreements, trade exchanges, and disputes and resolutions. They were also the entity that gave legal registration to new discoveries and creations (know as “Ds and Cs”,and often written DandC). These were extremely important for business. A DandC gave an individual or company the legal protection to develop and market a new product or idea, without having it stolen by others. In some galaxies the DandC was better than having a large diameter energy weapon when it came to protecting your rights and profits. Established law in this field had been so sharply honed and defined, it left no room for legal maneuvering, manipulation, or interpretation. Anyone who tried to illegally violate the DandC of another was either a great fool, or a criminal. Violations of DandC had caused devastating and expensive wars, so there was no tolerance for violators. Even species that normally didn't get along with each other, would come together to apprehend and prosecute (or destroy) these violators. It didn't matter if you didn't like your intergalactic neighbor, as long as there was peace between your worlds. Throughout the IGT membership, DandC law was one of the primary tenets of inter-planetary relationships, and was never taken lightly. Neither was any law that dealt with non-treaty galaxies, and those were the laws that had direct effect on the Orysta right now - that is, those laws and the fact that they had no engine.
Originally it was going to be a simple, and straight forward mission. They had done many of them before. You traveled to the selected location, mined the ore or element quickly, and left quietly. In non-treaty galaxies there were no resorts, bars, vacation spots, or off-ship entertainment, because there was “NO INTENTIONAL CONTACT!”. That was IGT law, so there was no reason to stay longer than necessary. Once on site the crew was usually divided into four shifts, and the operation would run around the clock until the job was finished. When the hold was full or the raw material ran out, you turned the ship around and headed home.
But now they were adrift. Backup maneuvering thrusters were available, but had a limited operational lifetime, and once used up they were gone. There was no way to recharge or replace them in space - they weren't designed for that. They were strictly emergency equipment - except that now, they had become primary equipment, and they were a poor substitute. They could be turned on, and they could be turned off – and that was it. Old technology, that created thrust by burning a solid fuel propellant, the thrusters usually were installed and replaced at prescribed maintenance cycles without ever being used. Now the wisdom of having them was very apparent to the crew of the Orysta. Advanced technology can sometimes breed complacency.
There was some good news - and of course, more bad news. The good news was that the engine room was back to normal temperature, and re-pressurized. Also, their drift path was taking them straight to the Orysta's original objective. It was the orbiting moon of the only planet sustaining life in this solar system. A survey mission had detected rare minerals and metals on this moon. Enough to have made this a very profitable journey. But mining was no longer the priority - survival was.
The bad news was that even under these circumstances they had to follow the law to the best of their ability, without jeopardizing the safety of the crew. “Safety of the crew” had a very limited legal interpretation, as many companies and crews now paying the penalty had found out. That meant absolutely no intentional contact with the indigenous species, which meant they were on their own. They were approaching from the opposite side of the moon, so would be concealed from detection by the inhabited planet. But, since it was calculated to be a survivable impact, intentionally missing the moon to avoid crashing was not an option. Doing that would expose them to detection by the planet's inhabitants – which would put them in violation of IGT law. The same restriction held for orbiting the moon before landing – safer, but again making them more detectable. The level of technology of the inhabitants was not well known.
It would take time, but once they were landed and the ship secu
red, they should be able to make the repairs and modifications needed to safely get them headed back home. That meant that they would have to camouflage the ship so as not to be spotted as the moon rotated. There would be no rush on most of the system repairs, since without the main engine being fully operational the journey back home would take a long, long, long time – plenty of time to fix things along the way. The engine was the priority, but the odds of repairing it were low. Regaining partial thrust was not in doubt, but that's a very slow way to travel between galaxies. Hopefully a rescue ship would soon be sent.
3
All hands meeting
The final meeting before landing the ship on the the moon was to keep the crew informed and up to date, as well as to make necessary adjustments to their plans. Munen heard the thumping sound from the hull, and knew another beacon had launched – that was good. But Plessa had reported that not all the emergency beacons had functioned after launch, and several had not launched. That meant the physical trail of beacons had gaps, and would be hard to follow. Still, all the failed units had not been followed by a second failure in the sequence, so the gaps probably were not so large as to prevent rescue personnel from determining their path. Also, the mining company knew where they were headed, and would supply this information to rescue and military forces. They were very lucky to have reached their planned destination – not all ships in similar situations had been. There is always something reassuring about having ground below your feet, even if it is ground without a breathable atmosphere.