He Who Dares: Book Three (4 page)

“Just the sort of weather I enjoy.”

“Mike, I know what you are going to do, but don’t do it! The
Annie
is in too deep; the pressure will crush you like an egg!”

“Is that what the stupid kid’s going to do?” Rock asked in surprise.

“Shut up, Rock! That kid, as you call him, is a better man at the helm on his worst day, than you ever will be on your best day!” Rock snapped his jaw shut, face red with anger. It wasn’t often Jenkins snapped at him, and it wasn’t something he liked. “Mike, you know me. I’m not bullshitting you here just to stop you. Let me talk to Andy.”

“He’s listening.”

“Andy, tell me you’re not going down there?”

“Someone has to or we lose everything, the ship, the passengers and crew.”

“Don’t you think I know that!” Charlie Jenkins shouted back. “Jeez! If I thought I had a chance, I’d go down anyway, and fuck the contract.”

“I know that, Charlie. In something like this I’d take your word for it any day.” Jenkins nodded, as if agreeing with something the helmsman couldn’t understand.

“You’re going in, aren’t you?” It wasn’t a question.

“That I am, Charlie, or I should say, Mike is. He’s at the helm, I’m on suspension, remember.”

“Shit!” Jenkins muttered to himself. “Gramps, don’t you think you should rethink this, especially with Mike at the helm?”

“What's wrong with me being at the helm, Jenkins!” Mike voice growled back at him. Charlie Jenkins winced. He hadn’t meant it to come out like that, not with the kid listening. He knew Gramps would understand what he meant.

“Nothing, Mike. I didn’t mean…”

“Screw you, Charlie Jenkins, and the tug you drove in on!” With that Mike blasted past the three tugs with 50 nautical miles to spare. The
Prometheus
plunged down into the Jovian atmosphere like a rock, homing in on the radar echo from the stricken liner.

“
Prometheus
to the
Queen Ann
, do you copy?”

“We copy you
Prometheus
, how many other tugs do you have with you?” Came a crackling reply.

“None, just us.” Mike tweaked the video frequencies to try to pick up a visual, but the fuzzy static of ionization didn’t clear.

“None?”

“No, sir.”

“Then I think we are doomed. There is no way one tug can pull us out of here, son.”

“I disagree, Captain. The
Prometheus
is an ex-Royal Navy deep-space tug, and between the two of us I think we can do it, or at least get you up high enough for your passengers and crew to use the life pods.”

“I don’t see how. We have no engines, and the fusion reactor won’t restart. We are barely maintaining our present altitude on a wing and a prayer.”

“What about your landing and docking thrusters?”

“They are online, but they don’t have enough power let alone reaction mass.”

“You have all that ice between hulls.” The fuzzy image of the captain froze for a second.

“Hadn’t thought of that. What do you propose?”

“Not a straight up pull, but a rotation orbit, climbing as we go. If you can keep a steady upward thrust with what you have, we’ll do the pulling. Once we get moving at a reasonable rate, I’ll start her up.”

“I’ll have to get with my chief engineer and see about converting ice to reaction mass. Hold on.” He vanished from the screen.

“How we doing down there, Gramps?”

“As good as can be expected.”

“We need to squeeze as much power out of the pile as we can.”

“I know, and I’ll have her purring like a kitten for you.”

Mike nodded, and maneuvered the
Prometheus
ahead of the
Queen Ann
to take up the tow, despite the turbulence. To his chagrin, he had to go a lot deeper than he intended as the Jovian atmosphere interfered with the tractor mooring cleat hookup. Sinking lower, he kept reaching out for a lock hearing the old girl groan and protest as she shook around him. Could the
Old Lady
actually pull her out? Mike wasn’t sure of the answer now, but they were going to try. Around him, the hull moaned in distress, groaning as the pressure tried to crush her. Off to one side, one of the smart screen “windows” cracked and went dark telling him just how much the
Prometheus’
shields were bucking. A few times sweat popped out on Mike’s forehead at a particularly loud one. Then he shook himself. If the hull failed, he’d never know it. At this depth, the cold and pressure would kill him instantly, and he’d probably never know it, or so he hoped.

“
Prometheus
, my chief engineer tells me he can start bleeding off reaction mass in ten minutes.”

“How long can he keep it up and feed all of the thrusters?”

“As long as you want. We use a lot of water on this bucket.” A wan smile crossed the captain’s tired face.

“I’m going to start pulling now; don’t want to wait any longer than I have to. As soon as they’re online, fire up the thrusters, I’ll pick it up from there.”

“I copy that
Prometheus
. Will comply. Captain Phillips, out.”

“Here we go, Gramps.”

“I’m ready.”

Mike fed power to the massive engines, notching it up by degrees, hearing the generator and the inertial compensators scale up. The
Prometheus
was originally designed to haul battleships and million-ton freighters around like a dog on a leash, but at first nothing happened as she took up the strain. Mike fed more power to the graviton drive plates feeling the
Old Lady
shake like a dog shedding water as bit by bit she inched forward, the old tug gradually overcoming the dead weight of the
Queen Ann
and the gravity trying to pull her down. In the aft screen, Mike could see the turbulence in the thin atmosphere, but it didn’t last in the 230 mile an hour “wind”. A thought struck him, and he slowly began to turn the
Prometheus
into the wind.

“What are you doing, Mike?”

“Bringing her around into the wind.”

“Huh?”

“We might be as aerodynamic as a rock, but heading into these winds should give us some lift.”

“Could be right.” Speed in itself wasn’t the answer, lift was. The relatively flat bottom of the
Prometheus’
hull would give them some lift if he angled up just right.

Even against the powerful head winds, the
Prometheus
slowly picked up speed as the deck bounced and shuddered under him. One at the time he slipped his arms through the shoulder harnesses and snapped them shut across his waist. He was fighting the helm now as the old girl seemed to want to do everything but go up. The inertial compensators warbled up and down the scale as they tried to compensate for the sudden shifts in wind velocity. Mike muttered a silent prayer that they wouldn’t fail.

“Thrusters on line,
Prometheus
.”

“Copy that, Captain, angling up now.” Through the soles of his feet, Mike could feel the thrumming of the graviton generators as they struggled to overcome the pull of the planet, but it wasn’t enough. After two full rotations of the gas giant, they were no higher.

“I’ve got to have more thrust, Gramps!”

“I know, I know. Taking the pile over red line now.”

“Shit!” Mike muttered. He didn’t like the sound of that.

“Be careful, Gramps.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“We can break off if you want!” Sweat prickled Mike’s face, and he was having second thoughts about their ability to pull this off.

“We're committed, son. We can’t just abandon the
Queen Ann
now.”

“But, Gramps…”

“Mike, we committed to rescue these people, and that’s what we are going to, now shut up and drive, sailor.” Gramps voice whiplashed back at him. It was a voice he’d never heard before. It was a voice that many people would have recognized, the voice of command, brooking no argument or discussion.

“Yes, sir!” He gulped, gripping the helm harder.

Inch by precious inch they lifted, rotation after rotation as Mike struggled to pull the
Queen Ann
from the planet’s deadly embrace. The comm system crackled to life as they emerged from the dark side, and the fuzzy image of an officious woman came on the screen.

“This is Jean Maxwell, shipping agent for the
Queen Ann
,
Prometheus
, do you copy?” It was clear she’d been calling for some time, by the note in her voice.

“This is the Deep Space Tug,
Prometheus
, Captain Gray Commanding.”

“
Prometheus
, I understand that you have the,
Queen Ann
in tow."

“That is correct.”

“On whose authority did you take up the tow?”

“No one’s. Any ship in distress is entitled to aid and assistance under all international, interstellar, and maritime laws; you should know that.”

“Understand,
Prometheus
, you are not, I repeat, not to continue the tow once the
Queen Ann
is out of immediate danger.”

“What the hell are you talking about!” Mike yelled back, sweat dripping off his chin.

“You do not have authorization nor am I authorizing you to continue the tow once you have removed the
Queen Ann
from immediate danger.” Even with all his troubles, Mike took a second to look at the screen in astonishment.

“You stupid cow! I’m not abandoning the tow until the
Queen Ann
is out of the atmosphere, and clear of ANY danger.”

“Maxwell! I protest!” Captain Philips cut in. “The
Prometheus
is risking everything coming down here to get us out…”

“That’s not the point. I have awarded the towing contract to Captain Jenkins and the tug
Titan
”

“So why isn’t his ass down here trying to haul them out!” Mike chipped in.

“You took it upon yourself to risk your vessel without conferring with me first.”

“By that time the
Queen Ann
would have been so far into the soup no one could have got her out!” He yelled back.

“He’s right, Maxwell. We could have sunk deeper in the time it took you to get your fat finger out of your cunt, and do the right thing.”

“Captain Phillips!! I resent that remark!”

“Why? Because it’s true? You would have wasted time, and put MY ship at even greater risk than she is now, and I’m not about to let any dockside shipping agent-cum-space lawyer do that!”

“It's questionable whether you risked your ship going in so close to the gas giant in the first place.”

“That’s neither here nor there, and a question for the Naval Court of Inquiry to decide, NOT YOU!”

“My decision stands!”

“Like hell!” Captain Phillips yelled. “
Prometheus
, you are hereby authorized to render all aid and assistance necessary to tow the
Queen Ann
to safe harbor.”

“Captain Phillips! You have no authorization to do that.”

“As ship’s master, I do, now that I’m hooked to a tug. I am hereby uploading a copy of that authorization to the
Prometheus
right now.”

“I copy that, Captain Phillips, receiving now.”

Jean Maxwell’s beet red face vanished from the screen.

“Jeez! How some people worry about credits and the bottom line when people’s lives are on the line, never ceases to amaze me,” Gramps grumbled from the engine-room.

“How we doing, Gramps?”

“Good, keep at it and we’ll have her out of here in no time.” Gramps coughed, and must have accidentally hit the control board as the screen went dead.

“Gramps, you all right down there?”

“Yeah, yeah. No problem.”

There was something in Gramps’ voice that Mike didn’t like as if he’d suddenly got sick. He thought about it for a second until the turbulence drew his attention away. The fight between the
Prometheus
and gravity was far from over and went on for a long time. Mike lost track feeling as if he’d been fighting the yoke for days instead of hours. Ten hours later Mike had managed to lift the
Queen Ann
fifteen hundred feet. It wasn’t much and still had a long way to go. There was no relief, no let-up, but Mike knew that. Gramps dared not leave the engine room to spell him at the helm so he grimly held on, concentrating on getting them all out of here.

“
Prometheus
, this is the
Titan
can we assist?”

“No!”

“I understand your feelings, Mike, but I can help.”