The Solar Sea (10 page)

"Captain Freeman, I presume,” he said.

Natalie took Jefferson's hand. “The pleasure is all mine, Colonel Jefferson.” She looked around. “I take it I've arrived just in time to witness something major."

"Indeed,” said Jefferson. “They're getting ready to lift the fuselage of the
Aristarchus."
He led her back to the spot he'd occupied near the window.

Looking out, she saw the large, silver spheroid that was the hull of the
Aristarchus
. Scaffoldings were pulled back against the walls of the vehicle assembly building. The two halves of the roof over the giant ball crept apart. Even with the reflections in the glass of the observing gallery, she could see bright stars clearly through the opening. Thomas Alonzo—finished with his radio conversation for a time—stepped over and introduced himself while the roof opened. “I believe you've already met Captain Jefferson,” he said. The captain and colonel nodded. Pilot waved over a short man, with a neat, pencil-thin mustache. “Dr. Kurata Nagamine is our chief planetary scientist."

Natalie shook Dr. Nagamine's hand. “Pleased to meet you."

"John O'Connell, whom I believe you've met, will be serving as Dr. Nagamine's assistant as well as being in charge of the ship's astronomy sensors.” Pilot was interrupted by a call from the radio. Together, Natalie and Dr. Nagamine moved up to the window again. The roof overhead was fully open by this time.

Four shuttles drifted down through the open roof. The sun shining off their metallic hulls made them look almost like delicate snowflakes. Jefferson turned to Natalie and explained they looked similar to the shuttles he was becoming acquainted with aboard the ship, except each of these was equipped with a pair of grappling arms on the front and a booster assembly in the rear. The arms grabbed hold of bars mounted to the outside of the spheroid.

"Steady ... easy,” Pilot said into the radio.

Once each of the four shuttles was in position, they hovered in place for a few minutes. Radio chatter indicated the shuttle pilots were coordinating clocks and synchronizing their onboard computers. When they all indicated they were ready, Pilot called the order to lift.

Tongues of flame flared out from the booster assemblies of each of the four shuttles. Natalie wondered whether the shuttles were going to be able to lift the great spheroid. At that moment, Myra Lee leaned over to get a better look and lifted herself off the ground with one arm on the railing, reminding Natalie of the Moon's lower gravity. Eventually, the fuselage rose, seemingly an inch at a time. As the shuttles gained momentum, the sphere rose faster and faster until it had cleared the roof. Natalie found herself cheering with the other people gathered.

Pilot breathed a sigh of relief, then turned to face the assembled group. “I want the day tech crew to assemble their gear. We'll be moving to the
Aristarchus
first thing in the morning.” At that, the group began to break up and move out into the corridor. Pilot stepped up to Natalie. “Captain Freeman, have you had lunch yet?"

"No,” said Natalie.

"Would you join me, please? There's a lot we need to discuss.” Pilot led the way out to the corridor with Natalie close behind.

Jonathan Jefferson saw Myra Lee and Lisa Henry loitering in the observation area as the others left. Myra still stared upward through the rooftop. The silver fuselage had become quite tiny, barely distinguishable from the stars visible through the roof.

"What do you think, Myra?” asked Lisa. “Are you ready to join this crew?"

"I don't know what to think.” Myra shook her head, still looking upward.

"It'll be quite an adventure,” said Lisa.

"And there will be times when it'll be very boring,” Jefferson interrupted.

Myra finally tore her gaze from the sky and looked into Jefferson's blue eyes. “So, what do you think of having a cetacean biologist aboard your ship as ‘Biosciences Manager,’ or whatever Pilot calls it?"

"Well, if the whales really are talking to some kind of life near Saturn, I can't think of anyone more qualified to talk to it.” The colonel flashed a disarmingly boyish smile. “I have no doubt that either one of you can handle the radio and sensory equipment on that ship. I've looked it over. I think even I can operate it.” They all laughed, lightly.

"What kind of life do you think we're going to find on Saturn, Captain?” asked Lisa.

Jefferson hesitated for a moment. He hadn't been called ‘Captain’ in a long time. He had to remind himself in most navies, the rank of captain was actually equivalent to his rank of lieutenant colonel. “Whatever it is, it has to be something that's never been seen by the space probes we've sent out that way. If it's on Saturn, it would have to be something that floats in the atmosphere the way whales drift through the water."

Myra smiled at the image. “I'd like to see creatures like that,” she said. “What about something that might live on Titan?"

"Well,” said Jefferson. “It would have to be something that was invisible to the Huygens probe that landed on the surface earlier this century. I can't imagine anything living on Titan would be big enough to send signals to the whales."

The halves of the vehicle assembly building's roof moved toward each other and Lisa led the way out of the observing deck. Myra and Jonathan followed. “So, does this mean that you've decided to join us on this expedition?” asked Jonathan.

Myra smiled. “Well, we're part of Pilot's technical crew. Let me spend some time up in that ball tomorrow and I'll let you know."

Neb O'Connell packed his last pair of socks into the suitcase, then closed the lid. He moved over to the computer console and sat down with a sigh. He pinged his mother's computer. Her face appeared on the console a few minutes later. “Hello, John.” She put on a brave smile, which disintegrated into a coughing fit.

"Hi, Mom,” he said, unable to hide his concern.

She looked back into the camera. “Don't you look so worried, I'm fine. I just need my inhaler.” She reached out of the camera's range and Neb heard the puff of the inhaler. When she returned, she looked a little better. “How are you doing? I've been following the
Aristarchus
project on the news. They say they launched the main part of the ship today."

"Just a little while ago.” Neb nodded. “I've just been packing up to go aboard."

"I'm so proud of you, John."

"Mom,” said Neb, “I'm worried."

"You'll do fine,” she said confidently, her face breaking into a proud smile.

Neb shook his head and sniffed. “Not about me.” His voice cracked. “I'm worried about you."

His mom frowned, then coughed again. She held a tissue to her lips and spit out some phlegm. “Your brother is here with me.” She leaned in close to her camera and Neb felt the intensity of her gaze across the miles. “I will be here, John. I will be here to welcome you with open arms when you get back home. I wouldn't miss the parade they'll throw for you for all the world.” She sat back. “Now you go do your job and don't you worry about me."

"Okay, Mom.” Neb suppressed a sniffle.

"Don't forget to send messages,” she said. “I don't want to hear about you only through the news."

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too. Now make me proud."

Neb was too tear-choked to continue. He reached over and terminated the connection with one hand while the fingers of the other hand rested on the image of his mother on the computer screen.

Pilot sat with Natalie Freeman in the Quinn Corp cafeteria. Untouched trays of food sat in front of each. “Captain Freeman,” Pilot poked at a pork chop with his fork, “you pose a difficult problem for me."

"You didn't invite me on this mission, and frankly, you don't know what to do with me.” Natalie smiled cautiously.

"That's it, in a nutshell,” said Pilot.

Natalie sat back and removed her hat. Pilot's mouth fell open as he was apparently taken aback by her crew cut. “If it's any help, my first tour of duty was aboard submarines. Though I was an officer, my first captain insisted that the juniors work a number of the jobs. I have experience as a mechanic and an electrician."

"Those are very useful skills.” Pilot finally grabbed a knife, cut off a piece of the pork chop, and lifted it to his mouth. “But does the captain of the U.S.S.
Sherman
easily step down to pick up her tool kit again?"

Natalie shrugged, then looked down at her plate. “I'm used to following orders."

As Pilot chewed, Jefferson stepped into the cafeteria. Pilot swallowed and took a drink. “It's Captain Jefferson's orders I'm concerned about you following."

"What is your rank structure aboard the ship?” asked Natalie.

"The captain has final authority over the ship. Under him are six managers—the pilot manager, communications and biosciences manager, sail master, sensory systems manager, technical systems manager, and ship's doctor. The rest of the people are crew and scientific staff."

Jefferson made it through the line and arrived at the table as Pilot finished his explanation. “What the ship does not have is an executive officer,” he said as he sat down.

"The ship only has a crew of twenty-five,” said Pilot, impatiently.

"Still, it would be good to have an exec who could be in charge of C-and-C when I'm off duty or away from the ship,” said Jefferson.

"As Pilot Manager, that's my job,” said Pilot a little more sharply than he intended.

"With all due respect,” interjected Natalie. “The job of a pilot—in the old shipboard sense—was that of navigator and helmsman. That's difficult to do and watch over all the other jobs as well."

"Okay,” said Pilot, a little tensely. “You'll be the executive officer. But what do we do about your rank? We can't go around calling both of you captain."

Natalie and Jonathan looked at each other, then back at Pilot. “Why not?” both asked in unison.

"Won't there be confusion about who's in charge?"

"You're clearly a civilian, Mr. Alonzo.” Natalie smiled broadly. Pilot sat back and huffed, as though insulted. “Colonel Jefferson is my senior. He's clearly in charge of the ship."

"Hey,” said Jefferson, pretending insult. “I only
look
older than you. I'm prematurely gray!"

"Sir, I was watching your Moon landings when I was in kindergarten,” said Natalie, remembering the first time she dressed in coveralls and wore a cardboard ‘space helmet.'

"Ouch!” Jefferson held his hands over his chest as though mortally wounded.

Pilot shook his head. “Okay, I wasn't planning on having an executive officer, but have it your way. It sounds like the two of you will work well together.” He hurriedly ate the rest of his meal, then excused himself, saying he had work to finish before going to the ship the next day.

Once he left, Natalie turned to Jefferson. “So, what exactly is this Mr. Alonzo hiding?"

The next day, Myra Lee and Lisa Henry found themselves floating above the communications and biosciences station on the command and control deck of the
Aristarchus
. With no sails attached to the ship, it wasn't rotating and there wasn't any gravity. They ran through several simulations, making sure they understood how the equipment operated. Lisa was impressed with how well the console was labeled and how simple the operations were. It only took her about an hour to learn how to work the communications equipment itself, which allowed her time to work with Myra, learning about the ship's biosensors and computer network.

"This is Quinn Shuttle Seven calling
Aristarchus
,” said a voice from the console's speaker.

"Hey, that's not a simulation, is it?” asked Myra.

"Nope, better answer it.” Lisa scanned the console quickly, then found the correct button. “This is
Aristarchus,
go ahead Quinn Shuttle Seven."

"We're ready to attach the first sail,” came the voice of the shuttle's pilot.

Lisa looked toward the pilot's console and beckoned Alonzo. He drifted over and touched a button. “We're ready on this end,” said Pilot. Then he nodded at Lisa who touched another button.

"Steerage crew one, Quinn Shuttle Seven is ready to attach,” she said.

"Acknowledged,” came Vanda Berko's response from the steerage room.

Lisa hit the button again. “Hailing frequencies closed, sir.” She smirked at Alonzo, who just shook his head.

The room pitched and rolled as the sail was attached. The motion was only slight, but enough that Myra lost all sense of up and down, left and right. Her stomach heaved and she vomited up globules that floated in the air, then she blushed bright red.

Neb O'Connell saw and belched loudly. It was apparent his stomach threatened to follow suit as he covered his mouth. He turned away quickly and pushed off from his console to the storage locker. Using a porta-vac, he cleaned up the mess.

"Thanks,” said Myra, sheepishly. Pilot brought her a bottle of water with a lid and straw and she sucked it down.

"Don't mention it,” said O'Connell, holding the vacuum well away from himself, so he wouldn't have to smell the contents.

Myra looked toward Pilot. “Still want me for the crew?"

Pilot nodded, though his grimace betrayed some misgivings. “Fortunately, we'll have gravity for most of the journey."

Throughout the day, teams of three shuttles lifted sails from the lunar surface. Two grabbed on near the base of the sail, while a third steadied the top—the part that would be farthest away from the ship. Two astronauts wearing magnetic boots stood on the outer hull of the ship, and as the sail approached, installed the outer vacuum gasket and guided the sail's mast into the bearing assembly.

Within
Aristarchus,
space-suited teams working in the sealed steerage rooms waited for the mast to appear through the bearing and then they carefully placed the inner vacuum gaskets around the mast, and guided it into the motor assembly where they locked it down. If the sails had been made of mylar and the masts made of aluminum as originally proposed in the twentieth century, the sails would have been much too massive to have been held in place by such a flimsy structure. However, the quinitite masts and sails were held quite securely.