by Ryk Brown
“Yeah, that’s what I was gonna say,” Josh insisted.
“Josh, you’d have to induce a dangerous spin,” Nathan said, “one that is considered so dangerous, most ships have automated systems to prevent that from happening.”
“Including this one,” Loki added.
“The anti-oscillation features can be overridden,” Aurora stated.
“You won’t be oscillating around our longitudinal axis, Josh,” Nathan reminded. “It will be around an imaginary axis drawn along the port forward flight deck’s threshold. That means you’ll have to adjust which thrusters you’re using to control the ship, based on the current attitude of the ship at each second. No one can do that.”
“She can,” Josh insisted, pointing at the helm console. “I can fly the ship, and the Aurora can do the calculations and make the adjustments on the fly.”
“Aurora, is this even feasible?” Nathan asked.
“It is possible,” the Aurora replied, “but it is also quite risky. If my calculations are the slightest bit off…”
“You’re a computer,” Jessica said. “How could your calculations be off?”
“The Aurora is a complex vessel with hundreds of thousands of systems, all of which have minute variations in performance. This ship’s thrusters, for example, have a point-zero-two-seven variation in thrust at any given moment. The same is true of all ships, but, with time, such variations can be predicted and compensated for. I have yet to accumulate the experience necessary with this vessel in order to accurately make such predictions and compensations.”
“We can do it,” Josh, again, insisted.
Nathan pressed the button on the arm of his command chair, linking his comm-set to the ship-to-ship communications system. “Striker One, Aurora Actual. Any chance you can reduce your rotation a bit more?”
“Uh…I’m afraid not,” Robert replied. “We lost most of our propellant in the collision. We’ve already used up what we had left. We’re pretty much dead stick right now.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” Nathan replied. “Listen, we’ve got an idea. It’s not great, but it’s all we’ve got at this point, and I don’t have to remind you that the planet isn’t about to move out of your way.”
“So, what’s the plan?”
“As you’ve probably already figured out, the diameter of your oscillations is wider than the flight deck threshold.”
“Everything is failing around here, so, no, I didn’t know,” Robert replied over comms, “but I’m not surprised.”
“We’re going to try to match your oscillations in order to get you past the threshold.”
After a pause, Robert replied, “You’re right; it’s not a great idea.”
“Well, our AI seems to think it can be done, so we’ve got that going for us.”
“Gee, thanks,” Josh said.
“Assuming it works, it’s likely to be a rough landing,” Nathan continued.
“And if it doesn’t?” Robert wondered.
“Well, you won’t have to worry about burning up in the atmosphere,” Nathan replied.
“What’s the risk to the Aurora?”
“I know the risks, Captain,” Nathan replied. “No offense, but I wouldn’t be suggesting this if I thought it might bring us down, as well. Whatever happens, we’ll survive.”
“I don’t suppose I’ve got time to think about it?”
“Take all the time you want,” Nathan replied. “What’s your answer?”
Another pause. “Well, I’ve trusted you this far. Let’s get this done, Captain.”
“Buckle up and button up, Robert. We’re coming to get you.”
Robert glanced over at his copilot.
“This is a terrible idea,” Sasha commented.
“Got a better one?” Robert tapped his comm-set. “Listen up, people. The Aurora’s going to try to scoop us up, so we need to button this ship up tight, and get everyone strapped in, pronto. Renny, apply emergency sealant around the airlock hatch. In our current spin, we could end up torquing that thing out of joint, which means we could lose all pressure before rescue crews can get to us. Close and lock everything. Stow everything, then strap your asses in.”
“This ought to be fun,” Sasha commented.
“Calculations are complete, and I have implemented two compensation algorithms,” the Aurora’s AI voice reported. “I can maintain the appropriate rate of oscillations while Mister Hayes conducts the capture maneuver.”
“The ship is lined up, so to speak,” Josh reported.
Nathan stared at the main view screen, watching Striker One oscillating just beyond the Aurora’s nose to her port side.
“We are picking up a lot of heat on our stern,” Loki warned.
Nathan pressed a button on his comm-panel. “You ready down there, Commander?”
“We are ready,” Vladimir replied.
“How about you, Josh?” Nathan asked.
“I got this,” Josh replied, exchanging a glance with Loki that belied his boast.
Josh eased his control stick forward slightly and then released it, applying just a touch of forward thrust. A moment later, the crippled, oscillating gunship began to drift toward them at a greater rate.
“Initiating oscillation maneuver,” the Aurora’s AI reported.
“Whoa,” Josh said. “This is weird.”
“Something wrong?” Nathan asked, becoming concerned.
“No, it’s just weird,” Josh replied. “The ship is doing things that I’m not telling it to do.”
Nathan watched as the stars on the view screen began to move. “Try concentrating on the target and not the surroundings.”
“Trust me, I am,” Josh insisted, thrusting forward again.
“Closure rate is three meters per second,” Loki reported.
“Ten seconds to oscillation match,” the Aurora reported.
Nathan continued to watch as the constellations on the view screen slid out of view to the right, only to re-emerge on the left. “Thank God the planet is under us and not in front of us,” he mumbled.
“Hell, I’m not even looking at the view screen at this point,” Josh replied, his eyes locked on the glass, heads-up display before him.
“Closure rate: four meters per second,” Loki reported.
“How long until we get too deep into the atmosphere?” Nathan asked.
“In three minutes and forty-eight seconds, the atmospheric drag on our stern will exceed my ability to compensate, and we will most likely collide with the target.”
“You have three minutes, Josh,” Nathan warned. “Then we abort by translating away from Striker One and jumping clear, understood?”
“I got it, I got it,” Josh insisted, his concentration on the task at hand.
“I’ve got an abort timer running, Captain,” Loki assured him.
Josh cast him a quick look of disapproval.
“Just in case,” Loki assured his friend.
“Oh, my God,” Robert muttered, staring out the forward window. Outside, the Aurora seemed to be coming right at them. It rotated around his view; one moment there, the next moment gone. Over the course of half a minute, the cycling slowed as the massive vessel matched his ship’s oscillations.
“How the hell are they doing this?” Sasha exclaimed, also looking out the window. “Even with an AI helping, I couldn’t do this.”
“Neither could I,” Robert admitted.
“Jesus, he’s almost got it,” Sasha declared as the bow of the Aurora was about to pass their own nose.
“Five-meters-per-second-closure,” Loki warned. “You need to start slowing down, Josh.”
Josh stared at his heads-up display, mesmerized by the dance of the angles representing the Aurora and the battered gunship they were attempting to save. “Not yet,” he in
sisted. “We’re not matched yet, Aurora.”
“I am attempting to avoid overcompensation in an effort to ensure proper alignment at the last moment, when we will have no time to correct for drift.”
“So, you’re playing it safe, too,” Josh replied as he made a final adjustment to their approach.
“Of course.”
“Bow threshold in ten seconds,” Loki warned. “The distance between us and them will begin to decrease once we cross.”
“No kidding,” Josh replied.
“Three……two……one……”
Nathan watched the main view screen as the wounded gunship slipped past the port side of the Aurora’s bow. Although the variation was small, the oscillations of both ships were still not quite synchronized.
“Switching to flight deck camera,” Loki announced.
A rectangle appeared in the middle of the main view screen, filling most of it with the view from the back of the port forward flight bay, looking forward through its open end.
“Where are they?” Jessica wondered.
“They’re still to port of the approach path,” Loki explained.
“Translating to port,” Josh reported as he adjusted his flight control stick.
On the main view screen, a small, light gray object moved into the camera view from the left side, slightly oscillating.
“Oscillations have increased,” Kaylah warned.
“You need to slow down,” Loki urged.
“Aurora?” Josh queried.
“Compensating,” the Aurora replied.
Sasha stared out the window in terror while the Aurora’s hull moved frighteningly close to them as they passed, then away, then back again. “Jesus, that’s close.”
“Braking,” Josh announced as he activated the Aurora’s forward braking thrusters.
“Five-meters-per-second-closure, four-meters-range to port, one meter off the approach line,” Loki reported.
“I’m working on it,” Josh replied.
“We need to move a meter to starboard,” Loki urged.
“We need to match their oscillations,” Jessica insisted nervously from the tactical station.
Cameron put her hand on Jessica’s shoulder. “They’ve got this.”
“Four meters per second; still need to move a meter to port,” Loki reported.
“I know, I know,” Josh replied.
“Drifting slightly low,” Loki warned.
“Aurora?” Josh called.
“Preparing for final compensation,” she replied.
“Come on,” Nathan mumbled to himself.
“This is insane,” Talisha exclaimed as she watched the gunship sliding closely along the Aurora’s port side. “Who the hell is piloting the Aurora?”
“Josh Hayes,” Commander Prechitt replied, “with the help of the AI you gave us.”
“They incorporated her into the Aurora?” she asked, shocked. “I thought you were just going to evaluate her code?”
“I guess you could call it a field evaluation.”
“Amazing,” Talisha added. “I need to meet that guy.”
“Please, don’t feed his ego,” Commander Prechitt begged. “It’s big enough already.”
“Three meters per second,” Loki reported, “half a meter right of line, on elevation.”
Everyone on the bridge, with the exception of Josh and Loki, stood stock-still with their eyes fixed on the image of the battered gunship as it grew larger in the opening of the port forward flight bay, its nose still drawing small circles as it approached.
“Two meters per second, you’re in the lane, drifting slightly starboard again,” Loki reported. “Ten seconds to threshold.”
Nathan tapped the comm-panel on the arm of his command chair, tying in the ship-wide channel as well as ship-to-ship. “All hands, brace for impact. Port forward flight deck, prepare for recovery.”
“Five seconds, one point five,” Loki reported. “Three……two……one……threshold.”
His job now over, Josh took his hands off the flight controls and looked up at the main view screen as everyone on the bridge held their breath.
The Cobra gunship crossed the threshold of the Aurora’s port forward flight bay, passing through the opening nose first, still wobbling.
Striker One’s nose swung upward slightly as it continued to oscillate, crashing into a catwalk and ripping it from its mounts. The force of the impact drove the nose downward, disrupting its pattern of oscillations and sending it toward the deck and slightly inboard.
Vladimir stared out the window of the port forward control booth as the gunship plowed through the catwalk toward the deck. “NOW!” he yelled as the stern of the gunship passed the threshold. “GRAVITY AT FIFTY! DROP THE DOORS AND REPRESS!”
The emergency doors came down quickly, sliding down and outboard along their sloped tracks, drawn downward by the sudden activation of the flight deck’s artificial gravity.
Striker One slammed into the deck and slid twenty meters at an angle across the bay, impacting the inboard bulkhead and bending the impacted area inward.
Robert’s head slammed into the now-bent-in port window frame, cutting his forehead wide open. His vision went black as the sounds of bending and grinding metal filled his ears.
The emergency doors slammed closed, and air began to rush into the bay as the gunship bounced off the inboard bulkhead.
After bouncing off the damaged wall, Striker One continued sliding aft as it spun slowly on its belly across the deck, finally ramming its port side into the aft bulkhead of the flight bay.
“Move to airlock seven!” the rescue chief yelled to his rescue teams; the doors to their current airlock now bent inward from the collision and, therefore, inoperable.
Robert groaned, his head ringing with pain. Sparks burst from the switch panel above his head, and he choked on the rancid smoke of burning circuits. “Sasha!” he cried out, unable to see his copilot through the smoke. “Renny! Kas! Someone! Sound off…” He coughed, and then everything went black again.
As the bay was still pressurizing, rescue crews wearing safety gear and breathing masks burst through the airlock door in the aft bulkhead of the flight bay, outboard of the wreckage of Striker One. The first ones in were the fire-suppression crews, dragging big, floppy, fire retardant tubes to be positioned strategically about the smoking vessel.
Hot on their heels, confident that their predecessors would be successful at containing any fires, were the rescue techs. Part medic and part extrication specialists, the four men had already reviewed the rescue procedures for the Cobra gunship and formulated a plan. Although badly crumpled, the bow of the ship, specifically the area over the copilot’s seat, was still intact. The rescue team went straight for the copilot’s side, climbing up onto the bow of the still-smoking vessel, quickly working their way up the hull to the copilot’s window. Once there, they used power tools to unbolt the emergency access collar around the copilot’s window, removing the entire window panel in less than a minute.
Once removed, smoke began to pour out of the open window, signaling to the rescue workers that there was a fire inside the gunship’s cabin.
“Interior fire!” the chief yelled from behind his breathing mask. “Let’s move!”
“Commander Kamenetskiy reports that Striker One is on the deck, and the bay is secured and pressurized,” Naralena reported.
“Nice work, Josh,” Nathan congratulated. “Now get us some altitude, and quickly,” he added.
“Aye, sir,” Josh replied, getting to work. “Aurora, return all flight controls to normal, please.”
“All flight controls to normal operating parameters,” the Aurora confirmed.
“Rescue chief reports both external and internal fires,” Naralena added. “Rescue techs are entering Striker One, now.”
“I need to go down there,” Jessica insisted.
“We’re still at general quarters,” Nathan replied calmly, a look of sympathy on his face.
“I can handle tactical, sir,” Cameron suggested.
“You belong on the flight deck,” Nathan insisted, looking toward the exit.
“Aye, sir,” Cameron replied, exchanging a sympathetic glance with Jessica as she headed for the exit.
“Comms, call another tactical officer to the bridge, please.”
“Aye, sir,” Naralena replied.
“As soon as you are relieved,” Nathan told Jessica.
“Thank you,” she said, nodding her appreciation.
“Positive climb rate, sir,” Loki reported.
“Very well,” Nathan replied. “Get us back up into standard orbit.”
“Standard orbit, aye,” Loki confirmed.
Fire-suppression foam poured from the tubes onto the damaged stern of Striker One as the first rescue technician dropped through the open copilot’s window.
The rescue tech dropped down inside, straddling the motionless body of Striker One’s copilot. He reached for the man’s carotid artery with one hand, while his other hand went to his chest to feel for respirations. “Copilot’s alive but has asymmetrical chest expansion!” he reported. He quickly disconnected the copilot’s restraint harness from the seat by pulling the emergency release rings from the back. As he did so, two straps with rescue clips on the ends came down through the open window. The rescue tech clipped them onto the rings at the top of the unconscious copilot’s harness and then hollered, “Pull him out!”
The tech guided the copilot’s unconscious body as the men outside pulled him through the window. As soon as the copilot’s feet were through the window, the rescue tech turned around and checked Robert’s motionless body in the same way. “Pilot’s alive!” he called out. “Head lac! Possible arm! Possible lower leg! Good pulse, good respirations! Can you pop the window on the port side?”