Proving True

It’s unfortunate this ship was never intended to be in an atmosphere. That means it has no parking thrusters. There is no way to keep it stationary at low altitude so we can allow the water to drain then patch any holes. In layman’s terms, it can’t hover. Instead, we’ll have to get it to orbit in some way, shape or form. Lack of streamlining means lack of wings, so even if …when the engines come on line, steering it will be a royal pain. Usually that means towing. Chains and cables would either snap themselves or pull free of any attachment to which they were attached. If they didn’t cut through the hull. And we’d be right back where we started. So a tractor field it must be. The SDB doesn’t have one though. But I believe Star Chaser does.

“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.