Polaris, page 8
"Moscow reads one hundred seventeen life forms, at various points on the ship," N'goto informed the captain. "Forty-eight on the hangar deck. Seventeen in a lab on 'B' deck. Fourteen in engineering. Six in the, weapons section, and the remainder in the sickbay Power in life support systems only."
"Enemy vessel?" Traynor glanced over to the science officer.
"No power that I can read. No life forms of out type. Sensors do not seem to be able to probe the ship with any accuracy. Something is disrupting the probes
"We'll worry about that later. First priority is to get the people off Moscow."
"Sir, we're as close as possible without dropping our shields," Goldman spoke up.
"All stop. Hold us here, Goldman," Traynor ordered. "Shipwide, Lieutenant Stuart."
She quickly thumbed the switch open.
"Shipwide, sir."
"This is the captain," Traynor began. "Moscow is sitting out there, just outside our shields. It's a dead ship, powerwise. Sensors pick up one hundred seventeen life forms out of a crew of two hundred forty-three.
"Also just outside our shields is an enemy vessel a destroyer, if its size is any clue. It seems to be in the same condition as Moscow. Seems to be. Our sensors are not able to successfully penetrate the ship with any accuracy. All they tell us is there is no power available on the ship.
"I am preparing to send out rescue crews to Moscow. Captain out.
"Stuart, security, then the hangar deck."
"Security here," came a voice from Traynor's chair-arm console.
"Mark, I need three rescue teams on the hangar deck in three minutes. Deep-space work suits, a bubble for each crew, and cutting tools," Traynor ordered. "Eight-man crews ought to do it."
"Aye, sir," Carter answered. He signed off.
"Hangar deck," came the response to Traynor's call.
"Myra, we need three large birds readied. Rescue crews are assembling down there in two and a half minutes. Also, clear out an area where the medical section can work on the seriously injured brought in.
"Is that a good idea?" she asked.
"It might save a life," Traynor responded.
"Aye, sir," Shanesey agreed, somewhat reluctantly. "Out."
"Out." Traynor stood up and hurried to the elevator. "N'goto, on me. Nelson, you have the con. I'll be on the hangar deck. Stuart, call De Gaulle and get him down there on the double. Then get hold of Marshall and get him up here!" The two men entered the elevator without waiting for responses.
On the hangar deck twenty-four security men were zipping into their deep-space work suits, used for operations carried out in the airless void of space. A fourth crew of security men helped the rescue parties suit up.
The work suits were of form-fitting clear plastic' that allowed a minutely thin layer of oxygen to remain constantly between the suit and the wearer. The helmet was molded from the same plastic, though it was not pliable, as was the suit. The helmet fastened to a collar of similar construction; the only nonpliable part of the body suit. A recycling air-supply container was constructed into the helmet, directly behind the head. Once activated, the small container provided seven days' use without loss of recycling capability.
Myra Shanesey and her entire crew of technicians checked and rechecked the three rescue ships, scrambling over their bodies, digging into the engines, and checking over controls and power generators, until the captain made his, appearance on the deck.
Traynor hurried over to the supervisor, who was crawling out of the engine hatch of Discovery, the largest of the fifteen craft available. Lieutenants Jay Farnsworth III and David Emerson came up to the captain and the commander.
"Providence checks out," Farnsworth informed the two.
"Friendship the same," Emerson echoed.
"Good," Myra answered. "Now, do it again!
"Aye, ma'am," they replied, hustling back to their charges.
"Are they ready, Commander?" Traynor asked. "As they'll ever be," she replied confidently. "Good." Traynor nodded approval. "Squad commanders!" Five men hurried foreword. Three wore pressure suits. Traynor recognized three of the men as Mark Carter, Peter Trout, and Hal Nater. The two new faces were identified as those of Travis Dralen of Vendra and Mikhail Noverensky of Collier. Trout, Nater, and Noverensky wore the work suits.
"You've been briefed on the layout of Moscow?" Traynor asked. The men nodded. Traynor and N'goto quickly briefed the men on the plan of attempted rescue.
Nater, commanding the squad aboard Discovery, would erect a pressure dome on the side of Moscow, outside the hangar deck. They were to cut an entrance into the hangar deck and check the feasibility of opening a hangar lock to allow Discovery to dock. If not, Nater's squad was to erect a pressure tube and transport the survivors from Moscow's hangar deck to Discovery, and back to Polaris.
Trout, aboard Providence, was to erect a dome near the tail of the crippled ship, on the upper side of the hull. Once inside, their objective was Moscow's sickbay. A pressure tube to Providence would be the escape route.
The third team, Noverensky aboard Friendship, would duplicate Providence's actions, but at the forward end of the hull. Their objective was the weapons section and a certain lab on "B" deck, which were three rooms apart. Noverensky's team would also use a pressure tube between ships.
Once the main objective was achieved, each team was to turn its attention to reaching the engineering section of Moscow, which was located on "C" deck of the five-decked hull.
"And the ships will have returned by the time you reach the engineering section," Traynor concluded. "Now remember, first crew there calls off the others. Immediately!
"Work fast. We don't know how long before our little friend out there may be joined by his friends. Good luck." They saluted him and the three mission commanders hustled to their respective crews. Quickly, the ships were loaded and the launch procedure was underway.
Marc De Gaulle came hurrying through the entrance. He rushed up to Traynor.
"What do you need?"
"Get your crew set up down here," Traynor replied. "You may have over a hundred casualties and this is the only place big enough. Don't know. Haven't been able to raise Moscow."
"But there may be critical cases," De Gaulle began.
"All the more reason to be here. They may not live to get to sickbay," Traynor answered quickly. "Get your people moving, Marc."
"Now that you mention it, this would be a nice place to work," De Gaulle smiled weakly.
Traynor smiled apologetically.
"I knew you'd see it my way, Marc." He crossed over to where Myra Shanesey was supervising the launch of the rescue ships. She quickly informed the captain that Discovery and Providence were away, and Friendship was preparing to cut in its forward drive.
"Excellent work, Commander Shanesey," Traynor grinned. "Remind me, when this is over, I owe you a drink. You've got one hell of a launch crew!" She matched his grin.
"Ye kin bank on it, Captain," she answered, slipping into her Ioan brogue.
"I'll be on the bridge," he told her.
On the bridge, a problem had arisen. After the arrival of Theodore Marshall to assume the bridge duties of the science officer, Victoria Spencer and Ben Peters had arrived. They immediately went to their command stations, expecting to take over. The two Iapetans however, refused to relinquish their seats. Maria McMasters informed her superior that she would only give up the navigation controls on direct orders from the captain. Goldman added that he agreed fully.
Carl Nelson, acting bridge commander, stepped down from the chair at Goldman's words.
"You realize that you are disobeying an order from your direct superior?" he asked. They both replied affirmatively.
"Then," he continued, "I am giving you a direct order, as a Colonel in the Space Service, to vacate your posts and allow your bet-, uh, superiors, to take over."
Both Maria McMasters and Robert Goldman were shocked at the slip of the tongue by Nelson. They exchanged glances, as if probing each other's thoughts - which, being lapetans, they were actually doing. Goldman then turned his chair to face the angry executive officer.
"Colonel Nelson," he said slowly. "To comply with your orders, I would have to disobey orders issued to me by a captain of the Space Service, which I will not do."
Nelson fairly exploded at the calm assurance of the young man.
"I have given you a direct order, Mister!" he screamed. "If you don't obey it, I'll have you up before a review board on a mutiny charge before you can count three!''
"Any mutiny charges will have to go through me," a calm voice sounded behind Nelson. He turned angrily and stopped. Alexander Traynor sat in the command chair, arriving unnoticed to the Executive Officer.
"Sir, according to regulations, the senior officer of each section is to man the controls!" Nelson screamed. "These two outworlders won't move, disobeying direct orders from myself and Majors Spencer and Peters!"
"Colonel, I told them they would finish this job."
"Sir, you can't let them get away with this!" Nelson continued, still screaming. "Ben and Victoria must take over! You know that! Issue the orders!"
Slowly Traynor rose from his chair to face the enraged executive officer. They stood toe to toe, eye to eye.
"Nelson," the Captain began, straining to remain under control. "No one tells me how to run my ship. NO ONE!" I do what I think is best for the good of the ship, not any one person. Don't ever make that mistake again. Do I make myself clear?"
The fire was still in Nelson, but he realized that he was in no position to argue. He nodded his head.
"Good," Traynor responded. "You are relieved of duty and confined to quarters until tomorrow at 0900 hours when you will report to my quarters. We have a few things to discuss." Nelson came to attention, saluted, and exited. Traynor settled back into his seat.
"Discovery calling," Lieutenant Stuart spoke up, breaking the silence.
"Put 'em on," Traynor answered. "You're monitoring all frequencies?"
"Aye, sir."
"Captain, we are alongside Moscow," Angela Martin's clear voice sang out. "Lieutenant Nater and his men are leaving now." Traynor gazed at the big screen. Moscow dominated the picture. From the angle of the picture,, Discovery could not be seen. Providence and Friendship were in evidence, moving carefully into their assigned positions.
"Hal, can you hear me?" Traynor spoke into is chair-arm console.
"Loud and clear, sir," came the voice of the giant Ganymedan.
"We can't see you, so keep us informed as to what you are doing," the Captain ordered.
"Aye, sir," Nater replied.
Slowly the crew from Discovery jetted to the hull of Moscow. Once they reached the metallic hull, their boot magnets took hold, allowing the men to stand. In relation to the ship, the eight men were standing parallel to the decks. But there is no up or down in space. Therefore, wherever one's feet are is down, and where one's head is should then be up.
Once each member of the crew was firmly anchored to the hull, Nater ordered the equipment lines dragged in. The weightless containers were dragged into the waiting arms of the rescue crew.
Peter Trout's crew, aboard Providence, was in the process of debarking. The pilot had landed the ship on the hull of Moscow. In actuality, the rescue ship was hovering ten centimeters above the hull. Trout's squad bounded quickly out of Providence. Instantly their boots gripped the injured craft in a magnetic lock. With the crew and equipment unloaded, Providence moved away a safe distance to await a call from Trout to engage the pressure tube.
"Trout to Polaris," the young Vendran radioed. His squad began to unload and erect the pressure dome from the magnetically secured equipment containers.
"Polaris, Traynor here," sounded the radio.
"Preparing to erect pressure dome, sir," Trout reported.
"Peter, Mikhail," came over the radio. It was Hal Nater calling.
"Yeah, Hal," Trout answered. Noverensky's voice sounded also.
"Check your hull wiring programs carefully before cutting. We just cut through a wire that really gave us a shock."
"Anyone hurt?" Traynor interrupted.
"No, Captain, just a nice display of fireworks for a few seconds."
"Good." Traynor was relieved. "Watch yourselves."
"Careful, Hal," Trout told Nater. Noverensky also added something, though Trout could not hear,
"Thanks, Mik," came Nater's sarcastic response.
Friendship duplicated Providence's actions in landing on the forward end of the hull. Here they ran problem. All crew members quickly exited the craft, but when the equipment containers were unloaded, one the cylinders did not magnetically fasten to the hull. A squad member, ignorant of the cylinder not being attached, bumped the equipment as he moved past. In the weightlessness of space, that slight bump was enough to send the container out into open space, some hundred meters from Moscow.
"Trouble, skipper," one of the men informed Noverensky.
"What's the problem, Lieutenant Noverensky?" Traynor's voice sounded quickly.
"One of the cylinders' magnetic coupler apparently didn't energize," answered the squad leader. "Johnson, can you get it?"
The young man guilty of causing the cylinder's floating antics quickly responded affirmatively.
"Careful, Johnson," Traynor commanded. "Make sure you have a line."
"Aye, sir," replied Johnson. Two others attached the line from the second cylinder to Johnson's back hook. The other end of the line was hooked to the fastened cylinder, but two companions gripped the line as added insurance.
Johnson jetted out to the free-floating cylinder, hanging in space. Gripping the container tightly, he attempted to jet back, all the while wondering what had caused the cylinder to stop its free flight. Theoretically, the container should have continued on its way until it was deflected by something. His jets should have been powerful enough to push the container back to Moscow. However, even firing at three-quarters power he could not move the cylinder.
"Mik, I can't move it," Johnson radioed.
"What do you mean, can't move it?" Noverensky replied.
"Something's holding it!"
"That's me," the pilot of Friendship came on the radio to say, "I grabbed it with the mini-tractor. It's a good thing I'm in one of the bigger ships. The smaller ones don't have mini-tracs. That thing would be long gone by now."
Friendship released its grip on the container and Johnson navigated the cylinder back to his crew. Willing hands grabbed the cylinder and fastened it tightly to its companion, using the line that had been recently attached to Lieutenant Johnson.
"Ready to erect pressure dome, Captain," Noverensky reported.
''Go to it.''
The pressure dome was a very important piece of equipment in the field of exterior ship repair. Made of clear plastic similar to the material the work suits were constructed from, though much thicker, the clear dome was erected around the work area. Measuring from five to twenty meters in diameter, depending on use, the dome allowed work to be performed on the exterior of a ship within an atmospheric seal. Because of the seal, the compartments within did not have to be evacuated.
"Captain, we're through," Hal Nater notified Traynor.
"How's it look?" Traynor asked.
"Checking." was Nater's response. Still wearing his work suit, for safety as well as to remain in constant radio contact, Nater carefully inserted his head and shoulders through the opening the cutters had made. Quickly, Nater's head pulled back.
"My God!" he whispered. -
"What's wrong, Hal?" Traynor asked over the radio.
"The hangar deck. You've got to see it to believe it! I never knew there could be so much destruction aboard one ship! Even Polaris wasn't this bad!" '
"There are supposed to be forty-eight people in there," Nater was reminded. "You see any?"
"I'll tell you in a moment," Nater radioed. "We're going in.". He slipped through the opening and dropped to the deck, eight feet down. The gravity of Moscow was still in effect, which allowed Nater and the others to de-energize their magnetic boot soles. The lights in the hanger were not fully operational.
Nater switched to loudspeaker broadcast. "Hello. Anyone here?" A dozen or so figures moved out of the machinery strung around the room, to stand in the semi-glow of the hanger lights. "We're from the USR Polaris."
Several men and women came rushing up to hug Nater.
"Thank God someone finally came!" one woman cried.
"Captain," Nater radioed. "We've got some survivors.
"Very good, Hal," Traynor replied. In the hack2round Nater could hear controlled cheering from the bridge crew of Polaris.
"Olson, start on the aft door. Hadrada and Vahlar, start on the main doors. We need to start for the engineering section. Devars, check the docking mechanisms. I don't think they'll work, but we might as well try. The rest of you start looking for survivors. There are forty-eight here." Nater paused. "I count thirteen now. Get these people to help you."
Peter Trout radioed Polaris.
"We're through, Captain. Preparing to drop into the corridor." He eased through the opening his crew's energy cutters had made, and dropped to the cluttered floor.
"I'm down. Corridor twelve, deck A. It's really messy down here. Debris all around my feet. Can't see anything. No lights. Tovar, lower me a light."
"Right, Peter," Tovar Mehatma replied. The light was lowered to Trout's waiting hands. Trout fastened it to the mount on the top of his helmet. Turning his head from side to side, he was able to play the beam around the corridor.
"It's messy, fellas. Don't be surprised to see bodies," Trout informed his crew. "Come on down. Bring the cutters. And a light for everyone."
The squad came down, one at a time. Each moved out and forward, playing his light over the area forward of their position.
"OK, let's move," Trout ordered, when the others had dropped to the deck. Trout led the way, searching for the ladder to "B" deck.
"Trout, what's it look like?" Traynor asked.
"It's pretty torn up in here," Trout replied, picking his way through the debris. "Walls caved in. Machinery across the corridor, but we aren't blocked. No tears in the outer skin. Apparently the auto-sealing equipment is still functioning. Bodies. Quite a few. Several quite disfigured. Must have been hit by enemy lasers. That explains the other bodies. The oxygen must have escaped when the laser cut through. Killed the others before the sealing equipment could save 'em."
