Proving True: A Sonia MacTaggert Novel

by Robert Culp

  “Chief Engineer DuQuois, this is Engineer’s Mate MacTaggert.” I am not looking forward to this conversation.

  “Go ahead.” At least she didn’t insult me before hearing what I want.

  “In order to get this ship into orbit we’ll need the tractor field. The SDB doesn’t have a tether strong enough for it. And even if it did there’s no way to attach it to the hull without risk of further damage to the hull.”

  “That request will have to be put through the chain of command. I will advise you on the Captain’s answer,” she snaps like a petulant child.

  “Understood, ma’am,” I respond evenly. “As getting the ship back into space was his directive, I’ll begin preparing the vessel for the tractor field.” I’m tempted to follow with “MacTaggert out,” but whether I like it or not, she is still my boss.

  “Acknowledged. While I have you, another SDB is en route to Gallagher. It appears someone thinks Wonder Girl needs help. DuQuois out.”

  I really hope she isn’t fuming that she didn’t think of the tractor field first. If this doesn’t work though, I’m going to have much bigger problems than an annoyed manager.

  Now that the area is safe, dozens of mechanics have been ferried down from Star Chaser and gone to their assigned work areas. I guess someone found another pilot. My assignment for the moment happens to be the tritium reactor. Tritium is a very stable element under normal conditions. Oedipus is here to provide us fuel. They will mine the hydrogen from the planet and convert it to tritium for storage and/or transfer. Once we have the tritium aboard, we ramp it up to Hydrogen 5, one proton and four neutrons in the nucleus. The detonation of the 5H in the reactor powers all the systems of the ship. It will basically become a contained star on a micro scale. And this reactor is currently running at sub-critical, barely a trickle. That will not do. The mechanics that fell in on it know exactly what they’re doing. They’ll only come to me if they have a specific question. Which I think is pretty unlikely. So, I pick up a tester and start verifying connections. So what kept the ship warm and the gravity on? When I have time, I’ll have to peruse the logs. Clearly the batteries were charged, but how were they recharged? That must be it! The sub-critical reactor was keeping the barest of minimal systems running. The only conclusion I can come to is that someone made the compassionate switch before succumbing to the pathogen or a zombie.

  An hour into the process, my perCom crackles. “Engineer’s Mate MacTaggert, this is Chief Engineer DuQuois. The Captain has approved use of the tractor field. When you are ready, you will contact Fire Control and instruct them to initiate. The vessel has already been targeted for the ice breaking missiles. Acknowledge.”

  “Acknowledged.” I can’t help wondering if she argued with him about it.

  “DuQuois out.” One of these days I’m going to find out why she hates me.

  It takes us four more hours but we’re ready to elevate the reaction.

  “This is Engineer’s Mate MacTaggert,” I say into my perCom, “all non-mission critical personnel evacuate Gallagher. We’re accelerating the reactor.” Everything checks out, I’m sure everyone did what needed doing in almost textbook fashion. And it’s the almost that has me scared. I wish there was a way to do this remotely, in the shipyards this is typically done by an android crew. Not the models like Athena or Aria, but menial droids. The ones that are far less expensive and much more disposable. The only android I have is Athena, and she’s still on the bridge. I and six other mechanics have to stay here to adjust the reactor as it approaches operational levels. The only good news is this vessel is not uronium powered. That’s good because if the reactor explodes, the fireball won’t reach as far as Star Chaser.

  “All non-essential personnel have departed the vessel,” Athena reports.

  I look at the six with me. Each holds one thumb up. I wish I could do this without them, but there’s just no way.

  “Accelerating the reaction,” a glow begins to emit from the reactor. “Reactor is still sub-critical.”

  “Just tell me the criticality index, please,” I can see it for myself, but I’m looking at a display different than the one he has. His came from Star Chaser, I’m reading the one on Gallagher’s engineering systems display. It’s the way of the worlds, sonsabitches from out of town with slides and props are the automatic experts.

  “Roger, Chief. Criticality is ten percent and climbing.”

  “Output increasing, I see no arcs or flares for which I cannot account,” one of the mechanics reports.

  “Containment is holding solid and steady, kick it a little harder, boss.”

  I push the flow control open a bit more. Which eases the control rods out of the reactor core.

  “Reactor is now super critical, twenty percent,” the glow is now a bright light, the shield slides into place. And otherwise we’d all be very blind very soon. The display I’m reading agrees.

  “All indicators are good, ready for more.”

  I direct the system to retract the control rods more. “Criticality at thirty percent,” the process continues. To the layman, the thought of a reactor being critical is scary and super critical terrifying. But to the informed that means the number of reactions in the chamber is increasing. I send the control rods further from the core. The power output levels continue to grow. Until finally, I announce, “I’m showing the reactor is at one hundred percent.”

  “Containment is holding.”

  “Confirmed, chief. Reactor is critical at one hundred percent. Everything is stable.” For a controlled hydrogen nuclear reaction.

  “Everything is looking good, chief.”

  “Great work so far, everyone,” I say. “It’s time to twist the dragon’s tail. We’ll top off the batteries and energize the ship.”

  “The batteries are charging, reactor is at one hundred ten percent.” It won’t stay there for long. Right now the reactor is producing energy faster than the ship is consuming it. Once the batteries are charged, we’ll ease the control rods back down to critical to maintain the charge to the ship.

  “Closing the circuit breakers.”

  Indicators come online, the illuminating panels overhead glow. In moments, the rest of the ships functioning electrical systems begin coming online. We’re almost ready to get it out of the ice. I activate the allCom for Gallagher. “All hands, this is Engineer’s Mate MacTaggert. Abandon ship. I say again, abandon ship. Ice breaking missiles will be inbound soon. Athena, Leka, meet me at the whale tank.”

  My mechanics have packed up all of their gear and are making their way to the corridor. One of them, I’ve seen him before but I can’t recall his name, my marauder suit’s recognition system paints the name “Jenkins” on my visor’s heads-up display. “About that, Boss. You might need…”

  “Jenkins, what I need is for you to follow orders and get your ass at least six hundred meters from this tub.”

  “But…”

  “Now!” I yell over my shoulder as I leave Engineering.

  “I’m already in the bio lab, Sonia,” Leka answers.

  “On my way,” Athena responds.

  I’m the last to arrive in the tank room. I seal the door as I enter. One of the benefits to having a Debi class android is that once she’s interfaced with the central control systems of the ship, she need not be on the bridge to execute them. “Athena, verify this room is sealed, once you’re satisfied pressurize it, please.”

  “Wilco.” There is a pause of only a few seconds. “The room is sealed and pressurized.” The original plan was for the SDB to fire the missiles. The addition of the tractor field required Star Chaser to move closer to the planet. The missile firing chore now belongs to Star Chaser. We’re not really happy about that, but beggars can’t be choosers.

  “Thank you.” I change to the command channel, “Star Chaser Fire Control this is Gallagher. We won’t get any readier. You have icebreaker missiles targeting this vessel. You are cleared to fire when ready.”

  “Gallagher, th
is is Star Chaser Fire Control, we have you targeted with icebreakers and tractor field. Confirm Danger Close.”

  “Confirmed.” They know that friendly forces are within the danger zone and we have done all we can to minimize fratricide.

  “Shot, over,” announces Fire Control.

  “Shot, out.” I answer. The missiles are on their way.

  “Athena,” she looks at me, “when the missiles impact, fire the charges.” That functionality has been relegated to the command systems of this ship; hence she has control of the detonators.

  “Wilco.”

  Dear Gods above, I hope this works!

  I know it seems like a lot longer than it actually is, but eventually I hear, “Gallagher, splash, over.”

  The missiles are five seconds away. “Splash, out,” I answer before I mute my microphone and yell, “Prepare for impact!”

  If there’s an upside to being fired on by supersonic munitions, it’s that we don’t hear them. As the ship is in atmosphere, and sound carries in such, we would hear the hellish din of the approaching missiles as they scream towards us if they were slow movers. But at several times the speed of sound, we are spared that.

  We do, however, feel and hear the impact. The targeting data was precise and the missiles are accurate. The lake surface cracks, I’m told later, in spider web fashion from Gallagher. Regardless we still reel from the missile explosions, the terror of which I’ll be honest is more mental than anything else. Athena fires the shaped charges ringing the ship. A salvo of missiles also broke the ice over the front half of the ship. With a sickening lurch, Gallagher falls from its angular position to more or less horizontal but then begins to levitate as the tractor field pulls it into the sky. The internal gravity field keeps everything more or less in place, but we do feel the impact and a momentary shift as the angle of the ship changes with respect to the planet’s surface. There are so many ways in which this operation could have gone horribly wrong!

  Freddie tells me what I desperately want to know, “Star Chaser, this is SDB One. Gallagher appears to be in one piece. It’s got water flowing out of it.” That’s hardly a surprise. Half of the ship has been underwater for quite some time.

  “Star Chaser, this is SDB One,” I hear Shawna say. “The pinnace has arrived, so we have the maintenance personnel aboard and we’re following Gallagher to orbit.”

  The operation is flowing nicely. We have the ship out of the ice, we’ve managed to not kill the intelligent psionic whale, and mechanics will soon be swarming over the ship patching its holes. But I can’t help feeling I’ve overlooked something. It’s like there’s another shoe to drop. My private perCom light is flashing. I answer it, “MacTaggert.”

  “I hope you enjoyed isolation,” it’s DuQuois, “it looks like you’ve got another dose coming.”

  “I don’t understand, why? Once the holes in the hull get patched…” Oh crap!

  “Once the holes get patched, we can pressurize that ship. Only then can you come out of there. You were in such an all fired hurry to save the whale once you found out that compartment could be pressurized, that you didn’t check for an airlock. Get used to that suit, sweetie. You’re going to be in or near it for at least a week. DuQuois out.”

  Oh, this is so not good!

  But there’s nothing for it now, “Athena, bilge pumps are on line?” They were portable units brought over from Star Chaser.

  “They are,” she answers, “at this rate, the ship should be void of water, aside from what is in the tank here, in four minutes…alert, alert, alert. We have a new hull breach on the Flight deck, area seven, seven meters of seam failure. So far it appears to have stopped. Which is remarkable.”

  “Is the tractor field the cause of the hull failure?”

  “Insufficient data to determine at this time. Once the mechanics and maintenance bots are back aboard that can be ascertained. But that is the most likely cause.” Without further investigation, there’s no way to be certain. Perhaps there was some defect in the material in that section that the ice made excessively brittle. Rather than flex with the oscillation of the ship, it stayed too rigid and tore. I hope it doesn’t tear more. But there is no reason to believe it won’t.

  “SDB One, this is Gallagher, we’ve detected a tear on the flight deck, area seven approximately seven meters in length. Keep an eye on it for us, please?”

  “Gallagher this is SDB One,” Freddie answers, “wilco. Once you’re in orbit, about three more minutes, we’ll be able to send the welders your way to initiate repairs.”

  “About that,” I ask him, “are they forecasting how long it will be before we can pressurize the ship?”

  “Seven days, Squats. After that, how long before the engines come on line?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but maybe two days after that. I’ll know more once I get out of here.”

  “Roger that,” he says. “We’re working on a way to put an airlock on that compartment.”

  “Negative,” I tell him. “Anyone that can use a welding torch needs to be patching the hull. That’s the Captain’s priority, it’s Chief Engineer DuQuois’ priority, and so it’s my priority. We can wait. We have a case of field rations, there’s some food for the ALF. All we need is a deck of cards.”

  “This is the Captain,” a new voice interrupts. “The priorities have been altered. The Transit drives need not be made functional immediately. Gallagher will berth inside Star Chaser for our voyage to Dubus III. But you will get the maneuver drive functional. The ship will be pressurized. Chief Engineer DuQuois has been notified. Have you any questions?”

  “None sir,” I answer. And thank you.

  DuQuois’ voice enters the conversation. “The Captain has charged me with commanding Gallagher. As her mission will be scientific, the nature of the command will require more administrative abilities than it will leadership. I have therefore delegated command to you, Chief MacTaggert. There are better uses for my time and abilities.”

  She is praying this will go south on me. I wonder if she’s even read my file!

  “Of course, ma’am,” I say. “When will that go into effect?”

  “When Gallagher reaches her berth aboard Star Chaser,” she says. “And not a femtosecond before.”

  “Yes ma’am.” I can’t help smiling and I don’t care if she can hear it or not. “My crew?”

  “You will be assigned two scientists. As I said, the job is mostly administrative so you’ll double hat as Chief Engineer.”

  As Da always said, I could never keep my mouth shut. “Begging your pardon, ma’am. But as Gallagher has a small craft, I’m going to need at least one pilot. I believe the recommended complement is pilot, navigator, medic and two engineers. And that’s just command crew. I already know two scientists, one physicist and one biologist. In fact, I can recommend a small vehicle pilot. For engineers, I have no desire to take away too much experience from you. Perhaps you can recommend someone from another department.”

  “If you think for a second…”

  The Captain interrupts her, “That will be enough. MacTaggert, you will be allowed to submit a dream sheet to the First Officer. Do so within the next four hours. Channel closed.”

  And that is the end of the conversation.

  “You know they are married, do you not?” Athena says.

  “What? Have you discovered humor? Irony as well?”

  “They are,” Leka supplies. “The Captain and Chief Engineer DuQuois have been married for a long time, decades perhaps.”

  “Really?” I can’t wrap my head around that.

  “Really,” Athena says, “I came across the information as a matter of interfacing with the personnel records for Star Chaser foreseeing your request of available personnel to crew Gallagher.”

  “I can’t imagine,” I say, “that it’s anything other than a marriage for convenience.”

  And for his sake, I hope it’s unconsummated.

  We’ve done everything we can think of to a
muse and entertain ourselves. Leka and the whale deepen their relationship and mutual understandings. It’s very disconcerting to see Leka sit motionless for hours at a time in telepathic communion with the creature. I’ve been getting daily updates and status reports from the mechanics and engineers, so I know what condition Gallagher is in. And I know that while an airlock is not going to be added to this room, the ship should be pressurized within the hour. It finally is an hour before lunch on the sixth day.

  “Atmospheric pressure inside the hull is seven millibars and rising,” Athena reports. The last hole has been patched. Breathable air is being pumped into the ship. And it’s not too soon. While for Leka and me, the waste handling is stacking up. The ship has systems that will handle it. But for the whale, we don’t have any more room to store the solid waste. And we have no way to filter out the liquid. Fortunately, she has been very understanding about the situation and our limitations. And while, she is psionic, one need not be a telepath to detect her frustrations.

  “One thousand millibars and rising.”

  “Thank you, Athena. Or should I say, ‘First Officer?’”

  “As you wish,” she answers. “Captain.”

  I submitted my dream sheet in accordance with the Captain’s directive. Athena was approved as First Officer. Leka will remain as biologist. I got Shawna as provisional pilot. She’ll at least get Gallagher into the birth. I’m certain that bitch DuQuois will fight me for her! I left the selection of engineer support up to DuQuois. Hopefully, she won’t give me any duds. It’s something to hope for, but I have to confess it’s unlikely. I’d like to get Mitra as the other science type but I’ll need a botanist and I don’t think that’s in her bag of tricks. If nothing else, we can refine the wraith armor.

  As long as Gallagher is in open space, I’m going to do an engine run up of her maneuver systems. Once they are ready for a test. Which will be in thirty-six hours.

  The run up is uneventful but far from exciting. The ship should be able to get up to 2G but not much more. But that’s enough. Shawna steers the ship into the berth and the fit is tight. So much that she uses a very colorful metaphor to describe it. I’m not exactly certain what she meant by it, but she was blushing when she said it. So it’s pretty extreme.