Troy Rising 2 - Citadel (26 page)

Dana hit the link for the design documents and started to giggle.

“Oh, that's just . . .” Moose said.

“Wrong?” Glass finished for him. “And I'm glad the CO gave permission because this I gotta see.”

“And I can control the heat in my suit,” Dana said. “I hadn't wanted to use it since it uses power. But if we've got permission . . . Request leave to fall in on space-suit, CM!”

“Granted,” Glass said. “Briefing's over! Fallout and fall in on your suits.”

“I'm cranking mine up to tropical,” Moose said.

The first time Dana had seen all the shuttles of the 142nd outbound it had been a wonderful sight. Since then she'd been to a couple of Squadron formations which were just a pain.

But they were funny as hell scattered all over the docking tube in the main-bay. You could tell the engineers from the cox in an instant. The engineers spent half their working time in suits and were perfectly comfortable in EVA. Most of them were floating upside down, sort of drifting near the shuttles if not on them, to give room for the . . .

The Coxswains, on the other hand, by and large had qualed on their suits but weren't exactly experts. They were mostly holding onto bits and pieces of shuttles and trying not to go Dutchman in the main bay. Not that you were going to go far.

“You seem to be experiencing some issues, CM,” Dana said.

Like a lot of the engineers, she'd placed herself near a coxswain, in this case Glass, but in a position that, to the coxswain, seemed to be inverted. Her helmet was drifting about a meter above the flight NCOIC.

“Just getting adjusted for a better view,” Glass said, his feet rotating “upwards.”

“I don't think you can see anything from that position, CM,” Dana said, reaching down and gently giving his head a tap. “You can do this in a nullball court. What's the problem with the main bay?”

“No references,” Glass said. “I mean, yeah, there are references, but between trying to control the suit and trying to get references . . .”

Dana drifted her suit down, using her plants to control the navopak, and grabbed his legs.

“Taking your boots down to latch point,” she said.

“I can maneuver . . .” Glass protested.

“And I think we need to work on your suit quals, CM,” Dana said, bringing his boots into contact with Thirty-Nine. “Lock it down, CM.”

“Locked down,” Glass said, crossing his arms.

“I think we need to work on all the coxswain's quals,” Dana said, chuckling.

“Agreed,” Glass said with a sigh.

“Maybe make them do some real work on the boats,” Dana said. “Yours could use some polish, CM.”

“You are about to cross a line, CM,” Glass said.

“Aye, aye, Captain Crunch,” Dana said, giggling.

“All hands,” the CO commed. “Stand by for SAPL fire.”

Tyler didn't want to use the Starfire for this but he did want to see with his own eyes. And the precise spot they were putting in the tank wasn't in view from his quarters.

So like what appeared to be about ninety-percent of the base, he'd gone out into the main bay. Since his suit wasn't any different from the generic ones, for once he could sort of blend in the crowd.

And it was quite a crowd. He knew there were upwards of four thousand people already on the Troy but it was rare you saw them all in one place.

You could tell the ones that practiced in EVA from the ones that didn't. Tyler had to put himself in the latter category and it was obvious as he bumped into another space suited figure.

“Sorry,” Tyler commed on the local channel. “I'm usually working in an office.”

The local com didn't even have a personal identifier so the guy had no clue who he was.

“No problem,” the man said. “You might want to lock down your boots.”

“It'd be above me if I did that,” Tyler said. He gently corrected his position and got into a better configuration to see the shot. “That okay?”

“Good enough,” the guy said. “Can you hold that?”

“Working on it,” Tyler said as he started to drift again. “I had it . . .”

“Troy has pull,” Butch said. “You get used to it. Try doing salvage in a spinning destroyer.”

“I spend as little time in EVA as I can,” the clerk said. “I don't like sucking vacuum.”

“Nearly did that one time,” Butch said. “Was drawing helium off one of the ships and got hit by a gush. That and the hose cracked my sled.”

“Sierra Seventeen,” the clerk said. “That would make you
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James
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Allen. Probationary welder. Good job you did out there.”

“Thanks,” Butch said. “Which office do you work in?”

“Corporate,” the guy replied. “I see most of the incident reports.”

“And you have one hell of a memory,” Butch said.

“It's the first incident in the last two quarters that had a near fatal outcome,” the guy said, drifting away again. “Dammit!”

“Hang on, dude,” Butch said, grabbing his ankle and drawing him down. He had to correct his own inertia while he was doing it but that was second nature at this point. He got the guy stable and held onto his navpak. “Just don't try to correct. I've got it.”

“Thank you,” the guy said. “That's mighty kind. As I said, I don't get out in suits much.”

“I hope you checked your suit,” Butch said.

“I did,” the guy said in an odd tone. “And I had other people check it as well.”

“That knew more than you or other clerks?”

“Uh, that would be A,” the man said, chuckling. “I checked it. Then they checked it and made sure it was working. And they knew what they were doing.”

“I hope the guys doing this burn know what they're doing,” Butch said. “It sounds crazy to me.”

Price had explained it to him but it still didn't make sense.

The SAPL had been used to drill a hole in the wall of the Troy. All normal. Happened all the time. Then they'd shoved ice down it. Standard water ice made from the main tanks. Then, and Butch had had a hand in it, they'd shoved a solid tube of nickel-iron down on top of the ice and welded the hole shut.

“It's how Troy was made,” the guy said. “Sort of. Same general concept. The tough part is going to be getting all the volatiles out so it doesn't contaminate the helium.”

The idea was that they'd melt the iron on top of the hole. When it was liquid enough the ice would boil and spread out the melted area into a bubble. Wait for it to cool, cut a hole in the side to let out the water and you had a big bubble to put the helium fuel into.

“All personnel, stand by for SAPL burn,” Paris commed.

“They're using the Ung beam on spread power,” the guy said a moment later. “Seventy petawatts of power.”

“That's . . .” Butch did the math in his head. “That's like a few thousand of my welding sets.”

“Yep,” the guy said. “It's a beautiful thing.”

“Three
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two
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one
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burn . . .” Paris commed.

“Oh!” Dana said. Her visor had automatically polarized as the wall of Troy turned white hot.

“Sweet!” Glass said.

The center point where the beam was hitting was white but the heat could be seen going to cherry red around it. The beam started to swing around, spreading the heat onto the target area and slowly heating it.

✺ ✺ ✺

“Paris, how's the readings?” the guy commed.

“You think Paris is going to respond right now?” Butch said, chuckling.

The guy didn't respond for a second.

“Uh
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.
.” he said. “Sort of. Looks like things are good. I sort of had a hand in this. So, yeah, Paris responded. And everything is nominal.”

“Oh,” Butch said. “Where'd you say you worked?”

“Here,” the guy said. “On Troy. Mostly. I'm with LFD Corporate.”

LFD was the parent company of Apollo.

“Full melt should take less than fifteen minutes which
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well, that's just insane.”

“I dunno,” Butch said. “I don't work with SAPL.”

“I do,” the guy said. “I've been working with SAPL and Apollo since there wasn't an Apollo. Just some guys with some mirrors trying to melt a bitty little asteroid. Took us six months and we could do the same job in a few minutes now.”

“Oh,” Butch said. “Uh. Sorry. I didn't know you were a boss.”

“Hey,” the guy said. “You helped me watch. I really appreciate it. I don't get much EVA time. In fact, the last time I was this close to vacuum, I ended up sucking it. So to say I'm not a big fan of EVA is accurate.”

“You don't sound like you sucked vacuum,” Butch said, neutrally. He'd run across lots of people on the station who swore they'd been in death pressure. It was one of those things that supposedly made you a big man. And this was a little guy.

“Eh,” the guy said. “Light. The ship got a leak. I didn't have a suit. We got picked up before it really did any damage but it was a pretty freaky experience. Not one I want to repeat.”

“You didn't have a suit?” Butch said.

“I said I've been doing this a long time,” the guy said. “And we have full thermal expansion, hopefully. If it gets any worse on the inside, the 142nd is going to go home to a crispy experience.”

“You're getting a feed?” Butch asked.

“Yeah,” the guy said. “So, since this is going to take a few minutes. What would you like to see to make working on the Troy easier or better?”

“Not sure what you mean,” Butch said. “You taking a survey?”

“I'm not doing anything else at the moment,” the guy said. “And I'm insatiably curious. Seriously. More bars?”

“Can't really drink much,” Butch said. “If you're even a bit hung over you don't want to be in vacuum.”

“Absolutely agreed,” the guy said. “So
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what? Anything you can think of?”

“More girls,” Butch said. “I mean, even the people working in the food court are all guys.”

“Hmmm
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.” the guy said. “There's a real problem with recruitment. Women simply don't sign up for space jobs the way guys do. But we could make it an EEOC thing. Special recruitment. What do you think of not having an EVA qualification as a requirement for working on the Troy?”

“Not sure,” Butch said. “What if there's a failure?”

“The next civilian area is going to have so many blast doors between it and the main bay you could, literally, set off a fifty megaton nuke in the main bay and it wouldn't even blow out half of them. We'd have to have a delimiter point somewhere. No non-EVA qualified personnel past a certain point. But it's doable. In fact, it would cut down, a lot, on the employee costs. Hmm
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.”

“And more girls?” Butch asked.

“And more girls,” the guy said. “The big part is getting them through EVA qual. They don't sign up as much as males and they fail at about the same rate. Right now even the support personnel are EVA qualed. Striking that qualification would open up all sorts of things. I thought about it a couple of years ago but I never got around to exploring it. And
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Stand by. Paris? Could you retrans to Mr. Allen, please?”

“Models say expansion in about thirty seconds,” Paris commed.

“Any idea if we've got the size model working?”

“Probability is ninety-eight percent that we will be within three centimeters.”

“Roger. Thank you, Paris.”

“You are welcome,
Mr. Vernon.”

“And it seems to be working.”

“Duh . . . uh . . .”

“You okay, Mr. Allen?”

“You're . . . Yer . . .”

Tyler tried not to sigh. He really should have told Paris to not use his name.

“Mr. Allen,” Tyler said. “As I said, I thank you for stabilizing me. I really don't get out in EVA very much. And your comment on the lack of female companionship triggered a memory node that had been dormant for far too long.”

“Uh
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Yes, sir.”

“So you've probably saved the company money and you helped me watch this burn,” Tyler said. “I am doubly thankful. Which, along with a buck fifty, will get you a ride on the subway. I put my pants on one leg at a time. Unless I'm sitting down, then I put them on two at a time. Mr. Allen, this is Houston, over?”

“Yes, sir,” Allen said, trying not to snort.

“There,” Tyler said. “That's better. And . . . Yes!”

Butch's astonishment that he was holding Mr. Vernon was momentarily put in the back seat as the wall of the Troy seemed to buckle outwards.

What had, a moment before, been a blazing white hot inward curve of metal suddenly bulged out, expanding in front of his eyes into hemisphere. It expanded quickly at first then slowed and slowed until it wasn't moving. At which point the SAPL shut off.

What was left was a blister in the side of the main bay that was still cherry red.

“I think the problem of the temperature being too low in the 142nd quarters is fixed,” Mr. Vernon said. “Paris is having to pump in AC. Fortunately, there are other areas that are quite cool. So, Mr. Allen, I have another question. First, is it James or Jim or
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?”

“Uh,” Butch said, taken aback. “Most people call me Butch, sir.”

“Butch, then,” Mr. Vernon said. “I'd tell you to call me Tyler but it would probably throw you. So, Butch, what's it like being a welder?”

“That is a sight for God damned sore eyes,” Admiral Kinyon said.

The commander of Troy had accepted Mr. Vernon's invitation to observe the arrival of the Wolf Mother. And he was glad he had. The view from the Starfire was spectacular.

Wolf
Mother was the newly minted tanker for the Terran system, a kilometer long, four hundred meter wide mass of nickel-iron just packed with helium. Apollo was planning three of the He3 carriers to handle the output of the gas mine. What had once been a near entire lack of helium was about to be a glut. The Wolf Mine had been designed and constructed to not only supply the Sol system but the Glatun. With trade cut off, it was too much for Earth to absorb. At the moment.

Wolf
Mother was only half full, but even that was enough to fill not only the Troy's tanks but the Fleet and civilian needs. The rolling blackouts on Earth were about at an end.

“She won't be able to top off your tanks,” Tyler said. “But with the present state of the power system, you've got fuel to spare. So, now that that problem is settled, I've got some issues I'd like to bring up.”