by Chris Hechtl
But, obviously no one was interested in her vaunted opinion.
The compartment wasn't even manned normally. A work party had been assigned to check on the generator when a remote startup failed. They'd managed to prime the thing and get it running, but that was when trouble had hit. The crew reported that they had heard something clang and then a high pitch whistle everyone dreaded. A rating used the end of a broom to find an air leak in a pipe or in the hull by watching the bristles move and feeling the broom move in or out. She got there just as they confirmed the leak with thermals.
“Get that leak patched before the computer locks the generator down. OPS will pitch a snit and want to rebuild their power reserves by cutting power. That'll impact life support on this deck and I don't know about you but I don't want to be on canned air for another shift!”
“On it, Chief!”
She nodded once as she observed them scanning the room. Each of the crew had an implant program that used their senses to map temperature variations in the compartment. It was great for finding small fires, trapped crewmen, or other issues. Air temperature shifts and movement allowed them to see micro leaks. She began to swear as she saw a line of stress cracks near the first they'd found. Most were tiny. “We're going to have fun here,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Klutz must have bonked it hard,” V'z'ck joked.
“Can it,” the chief said, giving the spacer a look. The kid's jaw worked but he kept on task. Once his job in the compartment was done, he got out. The SCPO watched him go and made a mental note to track him down later.
~~~^~~~
Engineering tech E-3 Spacer Nate Haskins shook his head in despair but did his best to keep the feelings from being seen in his expression or manner. The orange haired young man had gotten through tech school two years early but went from being called wunderkind to being called a klutz by the team once he'd joined the ship's company. It wasn't fair that he'd been stuck on the transport and had just joined. He hadn't asked to be kept in reserve. He thought he'd get past the hazing with his new DCC assignment, but the hated nickname lingered.
Why the hell had he put in the extra effort to get the extra rocker if it wasn't going to do him any good? It was one thing to be razzed for something he had done, a mistake like tripping on a knee knocker while running to his post during a battle station's drill. It was quite something else to be razzed for being tripped on purpose. He still didn't know who had done it.
His one mutter of getting no respect had gotten him laughed out of the compartment for his trouble.
When the razzing got particularly wearing, the chief noted his severe look and took him aside. “They told you it'd be like this at first, right?” she asked, eyeing him. She wanted the kid to toughen up, but he looked about ready to hit his limit. She didn't need an incident or a captain's mast. Nor did she want to throw the kid's future career in jeopardy over some malicious teasing.
“Yeah. But I thought they'd be over it since we're all busting our ass and trying to stay alive,” he said in an aggrieved tone of voice.
“Look, kid, it's a bit of a pecking order. You are at the bottom of the totem pole here, so you get the shit. It's not nice but proving you can handle it is how you climb higher,” she explained. He nodded grudgingly. That part he'd been told too. And if he complained, they'd just make it worse and label him a whiner. He didn't need that.
“I'll get them to lay off the jokes. You are right; we don't have time for it. But don't make yourself as much of a target.” She shook her head at his expression. The kid was an open book. One of the other reasons people flung shit at him was to toughen him up. It didn't help that he was a kid, barely nineteen standard years old with a heavy dose of acne and a long lean body. The kid ate like a bird. She knew medical was on him about eating more calories. She'd caught a note from the surgeon about watching for signs of depression because of the kid being so underweight.
“You are gangly. Well, you can't help that. You are getting your adult growth. But sometimes it takes time for your brain to catch-up to what your body is even though it's the pituitary gland that sends the signals out to grow like you have.”
“I … guess,” he said slowly.
“Sometimes it takes a bit for the brain to catch-up to the new body and adapt after a growth spurt. Just be patient, kid. Take your time where you can. Think your moves through if you have to and pick up your feet and knees!”
She could see he resented being called a kid, but he was more or less resigned to it from the chief. Good.
He was tempted to quit when his enlistment was up—just drop out. His skills were much in demand now that he had them on his resume. But he wanted to see things through. Besides, retention made dropping out easier said than done.
He had been counseled during training that there would be a hazing period and that every ship was different. He had been repeatedly told that people were different and that both sides needed to adjust. He admitted he needed to toughen up a little. But he also knew that getting shit on by the crew wasn't a way to retain personnel. It was tempting to put in a transfer, but he didn't want to appear as a whiner.
No, he'd sit it out, at least for a while longer. Besides, if he busted his ass a little more with the books, he might earn another rocker and get reassigned to a different ship anyway.
Chapter 4
Antigua
Governor Jeff Randall watched the coverage of the New Antigua shuttles and ascraft about to be used in the hurricane rescue efforts to come. If the crews of the red and white craft were nervous, they didn't show it. Most seemed excited or subdued.
Satellites projected the path of the hurricane, showing the damage from afar. Computers projected the worst path of damage and therefore where people needed to evacuate from. Getting the islands clear had been rough.
As governor, his office had to try to coordinate the evacuation efforts, along with pre-positioning resources and SAR personnel. His office also worked on pre-positioning utility companies to get services back online as quickly as possible. They and the logistics had to be far enough back from the storm to not be caught up in it but close enough to be able to launch the moment the storm cleared the area.
He did his best to project confidence, but he couldn't help but harbor some concerns over the SAR teams. They had gotten delivery of their equipment less than six months prior. They had spent months training and had only recently passed their final tests and trials to be certified a week prior to the hurricane. Some said the hurricane would be a trial by fire.
They had to be certified to perform both water and land rescues. Having trainers on hand who could grade them had been a problem until they had borrowed them from the military, which reminded him of the person nearby. He turned and checked in with the Marine nearby. The marine officer noted someone looking at him and looked up. He nodded once and then went back to looking at the report he was supposed to be reading.
It was something of a relief to have the military on standby, ready to pitch in. Their last series of disasters had relied heavily on their help, especially that of the Marines and the Spacebees. Hopefully his people could take up the slack this time.
Hopefully, they wouldn't be as badly needed as some were making things out to be.
Hopefully.
~~~^~~~
Captain Bret “Lucky Charms” Charmlicx was barely aware of the irony of his name as they worked the current rotation. He had been given his choices of a career in high school, and he'd chosen APSAR over going into the military or other pursuits.
For one thing, he loved flying. Correction, he loved flying in the air. Flying in space sucked, no pun intended. He adjusted his trim as the bird shivered in the turbulent wind. “Steady baby,” he murmured softly.
Of course, the PA picked it up through his hush mike. Mary, his copilot, glanced at him but then went back to dutifully checking the instruments to make sure they were still on course.
Both of them loved the bird, hell, so
did Ticker and Shiftless behind them. He glanced in the mirror to see the rear where the duo was prepping their gear and the winch.
It was such a novel thing to be in an aircraft like the Locust K-20. She was an honest bird even with the two rotors on her wing pylons. He loved that she had a cockpit that he could see the ground with. That was why he'd lobbied so hard for this bird over the others that had been in contention. None of the suppliers except Giovanni had understood the simple importance of maintaining an eyeball on things.
“Winch is good,” Ticker reported. “Five by five.”
“Roger that,” he acknowledged. He looked over to the engine read out and noted the heated blades were keeping them nice and toasty warm. Good, they'd need it; the air over the ocean was damn cold this time of year. He didn't envy Shiftless for his role as diver at all. The water looked choppy.
They were on an order to rescue a floundering vessel caught on the edge of the storm.
They had to drop down low to see the target, using FLIR to spot the vessel and occupants on the cold water. Visibility in the chop and wind and rain was a problem. It was hampered by flying at night.
The diamond coated prisms in the FLIR lens helped extend its range. Tiny cameras allowed optical zoom, and a laser kept track of the target once it was found. The HUD built into his visor fed him telemetry as well as an overlay of the other sensors on the craft. There was a crispness about it all that was almost magical.
The warm target on the cold water was surprisingly easy to spot. But finding them was just phase one. “Target located,” he reported over the channel to HQ. “She's floundering badly. Moving in. I'll try to maintain cover, but this will be tricky,” he breathed as they immediately moved into phase two, assessing the situation as they moved in. The pilot had to back off when he got too close and the downwash from his engines pitched the vessel about.
On the second pass, he came in higher, and they lowered a rescue man diver to begin phase three, the recovery phase.
It was a delicate maneuver. The computers in the sensor package kept fighting with the wind to trim the ascraft and keep it aloft. As the pilot watched through the window at his feet, he saw a HUD projection through his helmet from a micro camera off to his side. He turned his head enough to see the dangling diver. He would have preferred “Diver Dan” over Shiftless, but Shiftless had been next up on rotation. So far so good so he had no right to complain as of yet. The rescue man dangled his fins in the water to stabilize himself and keep from spinning as he was pulled to the victims.
Once he got into range, he unhooked, and the hoist operator worked on sending down a rescue basket. Things were now back on track and moving smoothly to completion.
Once the first victim was loaded in the basket, he allowed himself a small smile of victory. Antigua Planetary Search and Rescue were setting themselves up to be the blueprint for other planetary rescue outfits to model off of. That was a high standard. Agnosta already had a SAR outfit that rivaled their own. He was proud of his people and the role he and they were going to play in the future.
~~~^~~~
Gunnery Sergeant Letanga noted the thermal signature in the house and hand signed to the rest of his squad before heading over to it. “Hi,” he said as he saw the drape flutter and a small head peak at him from the broken window.
“I'm Gunny Letanga. I'm here to help,” he said, swishing his tail as the door opened. The guy inside frowned but then looked at his family.
“Look man, I know you want to stay to protect your gear. That's what we're here for. But we need to get you and your family out before this gets worse,” Letanga said quietly as the guy hid a shotgun he'd had nearby.
“Do you need assistance, Letanga?” Satet asked for his ears only.
“No,” Letanga said. “Come on, folks; we've got a lift waiting for you,” he said, hand out as he turned to Corporal Richards. The Neogorilla chuffed and then came over to them. “Let's get you out of here. This area is going to under more than four meters of water soon and none of us want that,” he said.
The guy's eyes widened. “My business, all I have is here …,” he indicated his home. Letanga turned back to see the guy was some sort of artisan.
“Look. They will probably rebuild after this. I'll document what you've got. Grab clothes, medicines, and food and come with us. But you've got to hurry. I've got a lot more stops to make,” he said, indicating the row of homes they were assigned to check.
“Uh …” The guy felt a tug on his arm and then the little girl looked up at him.
“I'd want my kid to live through this without traumatizing her,” Letanga said softly. “Hey kid, ever ridden a gorilla?” he asked.
“Wait, what?” Corporal Richards asked, staring at him.
“Come on,” Letanga said, lifting the kid up and onto the shoulders of the giant ape. The girl stiffened but then instinctively grabbed for a hand hold. One hand latched on to his ear. He looked up at her as she looked down at him, and then moved his lower lip out to blow air up at her. She giggled.
“Let me get some things,” the guy said as his wife brushed past him with improvised bags of stuff.
“Yeah, sure,” Letanga said as he noted the squad was pulling more people out. “Central this is Whiskey Six, we've got a full bus and then some. You might want to call for additional assets …”
~~~^~~~
Commodore and Doctor Nora Thornby grumbled about the interruption to her work. “It doesn't bother you,” she accused the Ssilli as she went out to their habitats. The wind was already starting to blow harshly. The waters outside their protective cove were choppy.
“It will damage some of the eggs and larva, but we will endure,” Captain SG Nata'roka stated. “You though should get to shelter,” the old female said through her vocoder as she waved her tentacles in the air and then blew air out of her dorsal blowhole in a spray of fine mist.
“Yeah, no kidding. Look, I'm going to help with the medical side. I'll check in with you as often as I can.”
“We'll be fine. We'll sink to the bottom of the cove and sit it out,” Tra'l stated, waving a tentacle before tracing one over his mate's back. Her own tentacle went over to touch his briefly. “We will look after the young,” he said, sending a tentacle out to touch on the back of a larval Ssilli. There were dozens of them in the cove; all had been cloned from the two adults as well as the bodies of the two Ssilli that had been recovered in Nightingale. They were still having problems with egg survival ratios. It was less than 10 percent, but they had finally gotten larva to survive to this point. Hopefully, the systems in their cove would filter out any salts that came in from the wind and sea spray. The contamination could kill the fragile young easily.
“Lucky you,” Nora grumbled as she wrapped her jacket around her and then yanked the door open to go back inside and make sure the staff was doing all they could to back up the computers and secure the facility from any intrusion of water or wind. She also made a note to do something to make the facility more secure against the storms. Perhaps a dome? She shook her head. No, the vibrations from the construction would disrupt the tender larva. No, they'd have to figure something else out later.
~~~^~~~
As head of the Knox News Affiliate in the capital, April had to handle the coverage on the planet. She also sat in as an anchor; she couldn't resist being in the limelight. But, that meant she couldn't spend time with John as they'd planned. She was apologetic when she came by his office.
“I don't know why you are upset red head; we both knew our jobs would do this from time to time. And I know it's not revenge for my long absence,” he said.
“No,” she said. She felt something twist though. She'd planned on having fun with him over the upcoming holiday weekend. Then her implants pinged with more emails coming in. “I need to get back to the office.”
He snorted. “You do what you need to do. The people need to see this.”
She blinked. “Even if it gets ugly?”
“
The good, the bad, the ugly. That's part of the show. It is educational. And showing what needs to be fixed is good even if it is a little painful to those involved sometimes.”
“Okay,” she said softly as she stroked his face and then patted his chest before departing.
Once she was gone, he turned away. In a way, he was glad their get together had been canceled. He could have used the time with her, but he needed time to get back into harness. He was still coming to grips with what had changed in his absence.
He was also grateful that the hurricane was distracting the public, though he didn't like the potential loss of life the natural disaster might entail. Too many people were pig headed, secure in their arrogant belief that they could hunker down and ride through it just fine. Then they screamed bloody murder for help to be lifted off their roofs and complained about the lack of help.
Well, APSAR had to be pulled out during the hurricane. There were three of the damn things; you don't sit there waiting for them to hit. The next two were projected to hit other parts of the coastline. One was set to hit the coast and then roll right up it.
In other words, things were going to get interesting ground side and it was a good time to be in space.
~~~^~~~
In between committee meetings, members of the Senate and their staffs watched the ongoing drama of the rescue on the news. “Damn, I was wondering about funding. This is going to cost a mint, not only in lost revenue but in the costs of all that equipment and supplies,” Senator Chuck Grassley from Seti Alpha 4 grumbled.
Senator Asif Beral looked over to his Neochimp colleague. Normally, he went to his own office to read the briefings, but he'd swung by for a quick chat over a working lunch so they could get on the same page with the bill in front of them.
Clearly, he wasn't the only one who was not happy so much of the taxpayer's money went into the coffers of Antigua. The fact that they paid more than most star systems was immaterial to some. They thought with the right infusion of cash they too would grow into a utopia or at least get rich off of trying. “It's hard to refuse when we see this. It is right there, up front and personal,” he rumbled.