Grayson Sontang in Space Ch. 03

Evans turned in his chair. "We can hold down the fort, chief."

Hendon sighed and pushed stiffly to his feet. "Are you going to change course?"

"Yes, after the burn. With some of the exhausts out, it will be easier to do it nice and slow, correct along the way. Now go."

"One hour. Wake me."

He headed out the portal and Grayson turned back to the screen. "Evans, forget to set that timer, will you? Hal, what's in the vicinity of El Relha that might have the part we need?"

Evans was watching as Hal zoomed out on the star field and began highlighting potential systems. "I don't understand," he said. "Those old valves were standardized years ago. You should be able to find reconstructs if not new manufacture almost anywhere."

Grayson studied the back of his head. Apparently, Hendon hadn't told him what he'd found in the engine room. Interesting. "I did some customization and retrofitting. I'm a hopeless tweaker."

Evans laughed. "I would be, too, but Confed frowns on you tweaking their equipment."

"I can imagine. Want a cup of real coffee?"

"Earth coffee? After today, I may never drink coffee again."

"You will once you taste the real thing." She ordered from Hal.

When she started to get up to retrieve the cups, Evans jumped up and beat her to it. He shook his head as he handed her the coffee. "You two are peas in a pod. You're hurting as bad as he is, aren't you? Tell the truth."

"I wasn't thrown around inside a metal box."

"You look like you were."

"Gee, thanks." She gave him a half-hearted scowl and he smirked as he went back to the control console. "Hal, what's the status with the supralight?"

"I have mapped regions where the disruption is the worst. The blast pattern was unequal. Relay stations are being reprogrammed to take advantage of clearer lines of sight."

"Good, so they've figured that out, too." She glanced at the main screen again. "Throw me up a list of the parts we need and I'll see if I can find someone who has them and someone willing to carry them to El Relha." She began tapping away on her keyboard, watching Evans surreptitiously as he appeared to be polling Hal for possible alternative routes back to Sirius from El Relha. On one of her monitors, she threw up an image of the bridge right before the wormhole exploded. It was eating at her how a highly experienced spacer like Hendon had failed to protect himself, despite her warning that the blast was coming. She watched the video, then went back and replayed it in slow motion. Instead of backing up against the wall, or diving for the floor, he appeared to be moving toward her, even leaping, at the moment of impact. Any spacer knew that midair was the worst possible place to be when there was a sudden speed change. What had he been thinking? Was he trying to prevent her from doing something? All her commands had been verbal, and it was too late to stop any of her actions. So why? She killed the monitor as Evans turned toward her, even though he could only see the back of it.

"This coffee is good. I can feel it all the way to my toes."

"Gotta keep those toes awake," she agreed and went back to her search for parts and pliable traders.

****

A couple hours later, Hendon still hadn't reappeared. Evans had shut down thrust and they coasted as Grayson walked him through the course adjustment, amazed at his gentle touch on the controls. She had seen some of his flying ability, but that had been on a shuttle. Despite the unusual configuration of her maneuvering thrusts and some of them being out of commission, he did a wonderful job in short order. She tried to get him to take a break, but he was hot on the trail of some navigational puzzle, so she had left him to it and went to gather her own status report on the cargo.

Her first stop, though, was the engine room. If Hendon hadn't told anybody what he'd seen, she would at least make sure no one else had a chance to see it. She got everything cleaned up and lugged the tools back to the storage room, then went in search of Het and Sip, to check on what they had repaired and listen to what else they wanted to do. Although they seemed somewhat surprised to see her, they were eager to show her what they'd done and respectfully asked if they could do more to divert power from other systems. Grayson had to grudgingly admit that the Confeds, for all their impositions, had given her a good team. It turned out that Bogart had initially begun training as a medical officer so he had the injured well in hand for the most part, and had jury-rigged splints for some broken limbs with Het's help. Also, one of the passengers turned out to be a pediatrician and was assisting with the critically wounded individual. Grayson checked on him last, in her miniscule med-unit.

It turned out to be Goldstone. Of course. He had apparently been searching for the wayward prince and fallen from bridgework to the lower level probably bouncing off a wall or two on the way down. They had used the limited medical supplies to pack an internal bleeder as a temporary fix and keep him unconscious to give him time to recover from a head injury. Their attempts to get a clear supralight line to medical advice had been unsuccessful, but were looking more promising as the reprogrammed relays came on line. Both the pediatrician and Bogart seemed optimistic that they could make better internal repairs, though Grayson was skeptical as she looked at the man's pale features and her scant supply of equipment. It was clear to her he would have to be dropped as soon as possible for real medical attention. That meant more thirty-gee burns. A lot more. Because, in the bizarre non-world of space, they had to slow way down to get somewhere fast. And the stress of the gees was probably the least concern. Back out on the mid-level bridgework, Grayson looked every which way before striding to a nearby comm. She tapped the button.

"Hal, inside voice." That was code for only use the speaker right next to her. Grayson tended to be on the move whenever she wasn't in her bed or her command chair, and Hal was used to using numerous speakers to insure she heard him as she rushed here and there.

"Understood," he responded.

"How much hydrogen fuel do we have left?"

"Fifty-six units."

Grayson groaned, leaning her head against the cool metal wall. "And how long will that last at thirty-gee burn?"

"Three hundred and sixty-six hours." It was within four hours of her estimate. She swore under her breath.

"And how many hours of thrust at thirty-gees to make the rated speed for the wormhole?"

"Four hundred and twelve." Also within four hours of her estimate.

Grayson sighed heavily. "You know that stupid hydrogen net thingy, Hal? I think I'm going to need the instructions on how to use it. In my quarters. I'm gonna kick Hendon out of my bed if he isn't up yet."

She stomped around the curving walkway toward her quarters. When the portal slid open and she rounded the corner, she came to a dead stop in the opening. "What the fuck!" she screamed.

Hendon ran out of the bathroom wrapping a towel around his waist, but not before Grayson got a good look at his armaments. "What is it?" he asked.

"What happened to my quarters?" she demanded.

"It's called being cleaned."

Where is everything? What did you do with it?"

"Your laundry is cleaned and put away. Your books are on your bookshelf..."

"I'll never find my place in them."

He only looked at her. "Ever hear of bookmarks? And your sheets are clean. You're welcome."

"How am I going to find things?" she moaned. She looked over at his smooth, water be-spattered chest. "Turn around," she ordered.

"Why?"

"Let's say I want to see if your back is bruised."

"Sontang," he said darkly.

"What? You won't let me play with Bogart!" she protested. "I've got cards. We could have that mano a mano poker match, except, you know, strip."

He crossed the space between them, grabbed her arm and pulled her into the room so the portal could close. Then he looked down at her from his significant height advantage. "I have no intention of fueling your own personal rumor mill," he said sternly. "Besides, I like my women meek and submissive." He said in a huskily mocking voice.

"You don't know what you're missing until you try all the flavors," she said, licking her lips and hooking her fingers into the top of his towel before pulling him toward her. He pried her fingers loose then clutched at the towel as it started to fall. She glanced down, then back up. "At least part of you is willing to take it for a spin," she said with a grin.

He tightened the towel, then picked her up bodily and tossed her onto the bed. "Get some rest."

She chortled as he turned back toward the bathroom. "Hey," she called. "Maybe I could get used to this meek and submissive thing." When he shut the door, she yelled out, "I'll let you spank me." When it was obvious he was through letting her bait him, she sighed and sat back on the bed. "Okay, Hal, let's try reading the directions for a change."

When Hendon reemerged from the bathroom, fully dressed this time, she was sitting cross-legged on the bed, squinting at the monitor across the room. He glanced at it. "What are you reading?"

"An instruction manual. I think it was translated from the Yeti, though Hal keeps insisting they didn't have a written language."

"Or even exist," the computer added.

"Instructions for what?"

"A hydrogen net." She glanced over at him. "Ever use one?"

"Not even sure what it is," he replied.

"Me neither. I just thought it would be cool to say I had one."

"Why the sudden interest?"

"Because we're going to run out of fuel before we run out of space."

He went very still for a long a moment. "Have you talked to Evans?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure he's figured it out. He's been frantically working on nav options for hours."

"What if we go for the next wormhole out? Conserve fuel?"

She shook her head. "Already checked. The next reasonable one is too far. The fuel would last, but not the food, oxygen and water. My plants and your recyclers can only do so much."

"So this thing collects hydrogen? Does it add to drag?"

She shook her head. "Not out here. It was really designed to be used in-system, like a sail deployed against cosmic wind, with the added benefit of gathering hydrogen for fuel to use once you're beyond the system. Frankly, I'm not even sure if it will deploy properly."

Now he was peering at the screen, as if squinting could make the words more comprehensible. "Let's take this to the bridge, get Evans, Het and Sip on it, too."

She shrugged, patting the bed beside her. "Or we could just make the best possible use of the time we have left." She tried the batting eyelashes again, with no more success. In fact, he was pulling her across the bed and onto her feet. "Ewhhh, you are the domineering type, aren't you, big fella," she said, swooning against his chest. He forcibly turned her toward the portal, and pushed.

"Give it a rest, Sontang. It's not going to work."

"I just loves me a challenge," she said over her shoulder, then scrambled away as he aimed a swat at her ass that was obviously not intended to be gently delivered. She hurried to stay ahead of him on the way to the bridge, as he asked Hal to invite Het and Sip up to meet them.

****

A couple hours later, they had begun another burn, for three hours this time. As the supralight transmissions began to clear, Hal had been able to find substantially more information on hydrogen nets in general and better instructions for their net, in particular. Het and Sip had no experience with the device but were highly optimistic, one might even say, as enthusiastic as kids on Christmas morning, to try out the toy. Evans hadn't used one either, but had substantial theoretical knowledge, and even as she watched, Grayson could see the tension easing around his eyes. He obviously had known there was a problem, and had been trying to solve it before it fell on her shoulders. She wondered what Hendon would think if she decided to play with Evans, but then she remembered the pilot mentioning family, as in a wife, back home. There were some lines even she drew.

When everyone had been dispersed to their individual tasks, mostly more research before the next break between burns, Grayson was ordering coffee from Hal when her chair suddenly swiveled. "Cancel that, Hal," Hendon ordered. He leaned down close to Grayson's face. "You. Rest period. Now."

"I don't need..."

He leaned closer to her ear. "That's an order," he added, his voice very soft and deep. "Or you're going to find out just how domineering I can be." Grayson grinned as he continued. "You want to see my back? You can see it from the vantage point of being thrown over my shoulder. You want to be spanked, we'll be back to Sirius before you can sit again." Her grin began to fade. "You want to be fucked? Just how long do you think I can fuck you without letting you come. Hmmm? Care to make a guess?"

"I think I'll take a rest period now," Grayson said. She waited until he released her chair before she swiveled away from him and hurriedly circled around him to the portal. She wasn't all the way through the opening when she heard Hendon ordering Hal to turn off the monitor in her quarters. She decided not to test Hal's loyalty. She went to her bedroom, turned the bed to low-gee and slept.

****

Grayson was sitting in her command chair, chewing her fingernails, looking at the sim that Hal had created. It was basically a close-up looking down on her ship. With the simmed enhancement, her dragon was displayed in all its glorious coil about the top of the ship. The hydrogen thrust, technically invisible within the human sight range, was displayed as a glowing orange sort of smoke that puffed out from the exhausts, then flowed back over and around the ship. Hal had even fudged the star field to make it look like the ship was racing - ass backward - against the backdrop of stars. Which it was, it just wouldn't be all that noticeable against the distant stars. Evans was up at the front of the bridge, gesturing at the main screen like a lecturing professor.

"So the net deploys from the front, uhm, well, it's currently the back, edge of the ship here between these two exhaust ports. It's fragile, so Hal will turn those ports off while the net is deployed. They won't be available for maneuvering. The net flows out here like a thread trailing behind us, then as the exhaust from the engines flows back this way, the net will begin to fill and open, sort of like a parachute. When it's fully open, it will be immense, much larger than the ship."

"If it fully opens," Grayson muttered.

"But that's the beauty of it," Evan's exclaimed. "Our exhaust is shooting out converted hydrogen. The first thing those sub-atomic particles want to do is recombine into hydrogen. As they do, the net catches them. We're in such a relatively clean part of space, that it should be able to catch a lot of them before they can combine with other atoms to form water and whatnot. The subatomic particles flow through the net to the other side, the hydrogen gets caught within the net and flows through the energized arterial system back to the ship and into the fuel cells. Any larger particles flow over the inner surface of the net to the iris, which we open to release them. If we were trying to use it like a sail, we'd adjust the iris to control our speed." Hal was demonstrating all this as he talked, showing a stream of ice vapor flowing from the hole in the center of the net.

"It looks so fragile," Bogart commented.

"Well, it is and it isn't," Evans tried to explain. "If you were standing out there and you poked it with your finger, you'd put a hole in it for sure. But your finger is way more massive than most of what's floating around out there. And it's self-healing in a way. The energized field reroutes the hydrogen away from tears automatically, kind of like the capillaries in your blood system. It's just, if you get to many holes torn in it, or if one of the main arteries gets damaged, then you cut way down on its ability to function. And possibly, even probably, on your ability to pull it back in when you're done with it." He turned back to his audience with a big smile. "But that's a real slim possibility out here, right Hal?"

"Point zero six two three percent," Hal agreed.

"If these things are so wonderful, why aren't they being used more?" Hendon asked.

"Well, what we're discussing here works because we're decelerating. Frankly, that's not commonly done until a ship is entering a system at the end of a run. Most ships between systems speed up to the least common speed rate for the jumps they have to make and stay at that speed until they get where they're going. Unfortunately, on the initial leg out and last leg in, most systems are - relatively and bluntly speaking - full of crap that will in short order tear the shit out of the net. That's why the whole sail idea crashed and burned early on."

"So they're only practical for juggernauts like Sontang," Hendon concluded.

"I only fly like that in sectors full of pirates and rebels and Feds," she snapped.

"Confeds," he corrected, but she only shrugged.

"Het and Sip are inspecting the entire installation right now," Evans continued. "They'll be able to assure us it will deploy properly."

"Even though they've never seen one before," Grayson pointed out.

Hendon turned to her. "You don't seem very optimistic about this project. Why?"

"I live by one proverb. If something can go wrong, it will go wrong."

"That's not a proverb, it's a principle," he pointed out.

"Whatever. If we try this, and it doesn't work, we're screwed. We will have burned all our hydrogen and still be well short of the speed we need to be down to. We'll hit the wormhole at something like twice the speed it's rated for."

"What would happen then?" he asked, turning to Evans.

"We'd come out of the wormhole pointed at El Relha. With luck, and throwing everything burnable into the sub-engines, we'd be able to use the maneuvering thrusters to deflect from the system."

"If something can go wrong, it will go wrong," Grayson repeated. "Tell him what happens when it does."

"We can't make escape velocity and crash into El Relha," he said quietly.

"El Relha is a white giant - K0III, hard to miss. Or maybe we just hit a planet first," Grayson muttered, going back for another cup of coffee. She stood at the dumbwaiter, tapping her foot.

"What does Hal think?" Hendon asked.

"Hal is a computer. He deals in probability. He doesn't live by a principle or a proverb. He doesn't make life and death decisions." She suddenly turned on her heel and strode off of the bridge as Hendon and Evans and Bogart stared quizzically at each other.

Grayson stormed into her quarters and slapped the manual lock. She looked around, spotted the neatly shelved books and yanked the retaining bar away. Then she began throwing the books about the room, just barely missing Hendon as he walked into the room with her coffee.

"I locked that door," she snapped, throwing another book.

"It, uh, seems that the prince broke the manual lock when he rigged the bypass." Hendon snatched the next book from her hand and held out the coffee instead.

"Little shithead," she muttered.

"He has a name, you know."

"I don't want to hear it," she snarled in a rush, reaching for another book. He grabbed her wrist and fit the coffee cup in her hand instead.

"You need to make a decision," he reminded her gently, though he was watching closely to see which way she was going to explode next.

"You make it. You're the officer in charge," she sneered.

"You are far and away the most qualified and you know it. If it was just you on the ship, what would you do?"