Frontiers 07 - The Expanse (34 page)

“Approaching the Falcon now, sir,” Mister Riley reported. “We’ll be in position in approximately fifteen seconds.”

“Tell Flight Ops to stand by,” Nathan told Naralena.

“Four hundred meters. Speed: one five zero,” the navigator called out to his helmsman. “Target speed: one three eight.”

The helmsman, Mister Chiles, never touched the joystick. Unlike Josh, he felt quite comfortable performing precise maneuvers from the console. In fact, he preferred it. Flight algorithms were far more precise than manual manipulation could possibly hope to be. Joysticks were for fighter pilots and hotshot show-offs, as far as he was concerned.

“Two hundred meters. Speed steady at one five zero. Stand by for braking in three seconds……and……begin braking.”

Mister Chiles touched a button and initiated the next programmed maneuvering sequence, telling the Aurora to match the Falcon’s course and speed and to position herself directly below her.

“Speed decreasing. Range closing. Five seconds to position.”

Nathan watched the main view screen. The view was set looking aft from the camera directly behind the missile turret housing, which sat atop the center of the ship’s main section. The starboard launch and recovery pad was directly behind and slightly to starboard of that camera, so they had an excellent view of the Falcon as the Aurora slowly drifted into position. “She looks like she ran into the side of a mountain,” he mumbled.

Cameron was also watching as she stood next to Nathan. Jessica watched from beside the tactical station directly behind the captain’s command chair.

“How the hell did they get that thing all the way back here?” she wondered.

“If I know Josh and Loki, by sheer determination,” Nathan mumbled.

“In position, Captain.”

Nathan gestured to Naralena, who immediately passed the signal on to Flight Ops. “Nicely done, gentlemen.” He watched as the Falcon fired her thrusters and began to descend, moving closer to the Aurora.

“Why isn’t she deploying her landing gear?” Cameron asked.

“Look at her gear bay doors,” Nathan told her.

“They look like they’re buckled inward,” Cameron realized. “What the hell happened to them?”

“Fifty meters. Ten seconds,” Mister Riley reported from the navigator’s station.

“Is everybody in position?” Nathan asked.

“COB has rescue and medical teams waiting on the gun deck. They’ve already got the doors to the elevator shaft open. They’ll jump in as she passes on her way down.”

“Good.”

“The senior chief’s there as well,” Cameron added.

Nathan looked at her. “That doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“I suspect the senior chief didn’t leave the COB much choice.”

“I suspect not,” Nathan agreed.

“Five seconds,” Mister Riley reported.

Nathan watched as the Falcon settled onto the pad on its belly, listing slightly to port as the pad’s artificial gravity came to life in order to hold the Falcon against the pad’s deck as it descended.

“Contact,” Mister Riley reported.

Nathan watched the view screen, waiting for the pad to start its journey down into the ship. “Why isn’t the pad coming down?”

“They have to safe the Falcon’s engines first,” Cameron reminded him.

“Pad is coming down,” Mister Riley reported.

Nathan looked back up at the view screen to see the Falcon disappear into the top of the Aurora, the outer doors to the elevator tube closing over her so the tube could begin rapid repressurization. Nathan jumped from his seat, then paused to look at Cameron.

“Go,” she told him. “I’ve got the bridge.”

“I’ll be in medical,” he yelled as he ran out of the bridge.

“Follow us, Senior Chief,” the rescue team leader instructed Marcus.

“Yeah, yeah, no problem!” Marcus yelled. The Aurora’s gun deck was located two decks below her upper main hull and ran underneath the eight mini-rail gun pods that lined the perimeter of the ship’s main section. Most of the deck was used to store rail gun ammunition in a series of automated hoppers that could be directed to any rail gun that needed them. In addition, much of the Aurora’s forward environmental and life support systems were located here. The gun deck lacked the acoustical dampening properties of the ship’s main habitation spaces; hence it was quite noisy.

Both the port and starboard forward elevator pads that led from the flight deck to the Aurora’s topside were also used to move cargo and machinery from the cargo deck at the bottom of the ship up to the gun deck. The starboard access door had already been overridden and opened in order to access the elevator pad on its way down.

“They’re not going to stop her on this floor, sir,” the leader of the rescue team told Marcus. “They’ll just slow it down a bit so we can jump on as it passes. That way, we can start extrication on the way down. With any luck, we’ll have them out by the time we get to the hangar deck.”

“Fifteen seconds,” the officer in charge of the gun deck called out.

“She’ll still be moving pretty fast, so be careful. Best thing to do is to just take a giant step out after she passes and let yourself fall straight down feet first. Bend your knees when you land; it’s farther than it looks. But there’s no roof above the pad so…”

“I’m chief of the deck, mister,” Marcus reminded him. “I’ve ridden the elevator before.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Stand ready!” the officer of the deck ordered. The four rescue men and the four medical specialists stepped up to the edge of the massive open doorway. They spaced themselves apart evenly, with enough space between them for the gear they carried. Marcus stepped up to the end of the line as well. He looked out into the open elevator shaft. It was open all the way down to the hangar deck, and he could see more men standing six decks below on the hangar deck looking up at them.

Marcus looked up at the underside of the elevator shaft as it descended quickly toward them. Each of the men checked their positions to ensure they were not leaning into the doorway so much that they might be struck by the descending pad. Marcus did the same.

Finally, the massive elevator pad passed by his face. The pad, with all its support structures and motor compartments, was several meters thick in all, and it took several seconds for it to completely pass them by. As soon as it passed below their waists, all eight men tossed the rescue bags out onto the descending elevator pad. All sixteen bags fell in unison, and the row of men stepped off a moment later as the elevator passed their feet.

Marcus stepped off as well, only a moment later. Both rescue teams had obviously rehearsed this maneuver before, as they made it look as easy as skipping the bottom step on a staircase. The senior chief’s landing was not as graceful, and he fell to one side as his feet touched. By the time he got up, the first two rescue men were already climbing up onto the Falcon, while the other two men began checking that her systems were properly shut down and there were no other fire, electrical, or chemical hazards that might threaten the safety of either the rescue teams or the flight crew they were there to rescue.

Marcus charged past the four medical specialists as they were unpacking their gear in preparation to begin treatment. He followed the first two rescue men up onto the starboard wing-body’s leading edge. The rescue men had chosen to straddle the battered fuselage and slide forward from behind the cockpit, as there was no boarding ladder available to them at the moment.

Marcus knew what they were trying to do, as the canopy’s manual release mechanism was located at the rear of the canopy on either side. He also knew that the canopy had a tendency to stick when you tried to slide it forward, as it was not originally designed to do. He used the two step wells built into the side of the fuselage a meter below the canopy alongside each flight seat. The wells were designed to give when kicked with the toe of a boot if the ship was in a pressurized environment. Marcus kicked the aft step well in, and the cover folded up and in nicely. He brought his leg over and stuck his left foot into the step well toe first, grabbed the edge of the broken canopy, and hoisted himself up and over.

“What are you doing, Senior Chief?” the rescue man on top of the fuselage yelled.

“Don’t worry about me! Just get the canopy released!” Marcus replied as he kicked in the next step well alongside the forward seat position and inserted his right foot. In one smooth motion, he hoisted himself up and swung his right leg up over the nose of the Falcon, mounting it like a hover-bike.

At that moment, he looked inside the forward canopy windshield. He could not see Josh’s face through his helmet’s sun visor, as it was polarized to reflect sunlight, but he wasn’t moving at all. No rise and fall of the chest, not even a twitch of a finger.

There was a loud pop as Marcus felt the canopy’s broken frame vibrate.

“Canopy is released!” the rescue man called from aft of the canopy.

Marcus planted his feet against the small canards on either side of the Falcon’s nose, standing slightly as he grabbed the leading edge of the canopy that now stuck out after being released from its aft rail locks. He lifted up as he pulled the canopy forward toward the ship’s nose. “Push!” he ordered the rescue man at the rear of the canopy. The battered piece of metal and clear canopy resisted at first, then finally sprung free, gliding cleanly forward on its rollers. Marcus slid backwards, falling off the nose of the Falcon and landing hard on his backside on the elevator pad below. Luckily for him, the artificial gravity on the pad was only at three-quarters of the ship’s normal gravity. Otherwise, the medical team might have been treating him as well.

The canopy screeched to a stop, not quite as far forward as it was designed to go. But it was enough to gain clear access to the Falcon’s flight crew. “Adjust pad gravity to one-half normal!” the rescue man called over his comm-set.

Marcus could feel himself becoming lighter as the artificial gravity on the pad lessened.

Once the canopy had slid forward, the emergency boarding ladder dropped out of the starboard side of the Falcon. It was no more than two metal rungs hanging out of the side of the ship, but it was enough for the medical specialists to climb the side and reach the unconscious flight crew.

“Pop his face plate!” the medical specialist ordered as he reached for Josh’s face plate. “They need air!” A moment later, both face plates were off, and their helmets were in the process of being removed.

“This one’s breathing!” the rescue man called out. “Pass me some oxygen!”

“His name is Loki!” Marcus yelled in anger and frustration. “The other one is Josh!”

“This one’s not!” the medical specialist reported as he handed the oxygen kit to the rescue man behind Loki. “Pass me another O2 kit and an intubation package,” the medical specialist at Josh’s side added. “And give me the suction bag; he’s got puke everywhere!”

One of the other medical specialists passed the requested devices to the one attending to Josh. The man dropped them in Josh’s lap and immediately began suctioning out Josh’s mouth. Then he grabbed one of the other kits and pulled out a small device. He inserted the device and activated it, immediately connecting it to the oxygen bag sitting in Josh’s lap. “Tube is in. Auto-respirator is running.”

Marcus could hear the sound of the auto-respirator as it rhythmically filled Josh’s lungs with oxygen.

“Tele-pack is connected,” the medical specialist reported as he attached another device to Josh’s suit electronics. “Toss me a pre-filled.”

One of the medical specialists on the deck tossed a pneumo-jet up to the medical specialist attending Josh. He quickly injected something into Josh’s neck. “Ph stabilizer on board.” The medical specialist stepped back onto the starboard wing-body, making room for the two rescue men. “This one’s ready for extrication,” he announced as the elevator pad began to slow. The first rescue man moved forward and began unhooking Josh’s flight harness in preparation to remove him from the spacecraft.

The elevator finally came to a stop at the hangar deck. A dozen rescue workers and deckhands rushed onto the platform, carrying additional gear and pushing boarding ladders.

“No gear!” one of the deckhands called out. “Bring in the shorties!” A moment later, the taller boarding ladders they had originally brought in were replaced by shorter models.

Marcus watched as half a dozen men worked together to raise Josh out of the cockpit and carry him down the boarding ladder. His body was limp and lifeless, and his face was ashen and covered with blood and vomit. His blond hair was wet and matted. Marcus looked over one of the medical specialist’s shoulders as he pulled open one of Josh’s eyelids and shined a light in his eye.

“Pupils are dilated and sluggish!” the specialist reported. All Marcus could see was that Josh’s eyes were terribly bloodshot.

Within minutes, Josh lay on a rescue gurney with tubes and monitoring leads connecting his body to the gurney’s underside. Moments later, he was rushed away to medical, leaving Marcus standing there.

Master Chief Montrose came up and stood beside Marcus, putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder in a show of support. As he did so, they rolled Loki past him as well. Loki’s eyes were also bloodshot, but he was awake and looking right at Marcus as they rolled him past. For a moment, he could have sworn he saw a smile on Loki’s face, but it was hard to tell under the oxygen mask.

“Come on,” Master Chief Montrose told Marcus. “Let’s get you over to medical.”

* * *

The treatment room was empty of patients except for Josh and Loki. Marcus had sat between the two of them for the better part of the day. Nathan had come and gone, choosing to spend as much time in medical as possible. Lieutenant Yosef had spent most of her off-duty time at Josh’s bedside as well but had insisted on working her normal shift.

Nathan, on the other hand, had been more than happy to let his XO cover him as much as she could. He had already authorized a change in course in order to recon the Alpha Centauri system before returning to Earth, and jump sixty-three had already been executed. Two more jumps would bring them just outside the Centauri system, after which, one more jump would finally get them home.

Nathan’s first instinct had been to skip Alpha Centauri altogether and get back to Earth sooner rather than nearly a day later. One just naturally assumed that a hospital on Earth could provide better treatment than the medical department on a starship. However, in the case of the Aurora and her Corinairan medical staff, that was not the case. In fact, Josh and Loki probably could not be in better hands, short of being back in the Pentaurus cluster.

Over the hours, Nathan had come to know Senior Chief Taggart a lot better. He wasn’t as gruff and unintelligent as some believed. In fact, he was quite wise, having a broad range of life experience. Underneath his loud, opinionated exterior beat the heart of a kind, old man. He just hid it well. Nathan found that he quite preferred such a person to the posturing, pompous, political types that he had grown up around. At least with Marcus, you knew what he truly thought, because he flat out told you so with no reservations. He was a brutally, but refreshingly, honest person.

Even Tug, a man whom Nathan had come to see as a mentor of sorts, had carried a hidden agenda of his own. He was a man of few, but carefully chosen, words—words that effectively placed in the listener’s mind the thoughts Tug most wanted that person to have. He wished that his own father—the senator and possibly, by now, the president—would speak in such a masterful fashion. Like most politicians, he had a tendency to speak around a topic instead of about it.