she said proudly while he pulled up into the sky over t he prone figures of the gunmen. We pulled past and left them where they lay.
*****
The mooring crew at the Applied Dynamics dock seemed surprised to see us, but I played the dumb wrench monkey that didn’t know better, and referred them to check their schedule – which showed us right on time. They didn't realize it was Janis that had modified their schedule, and probably didn’t care. A job was a job.
We were all suited up again, and airless all the way from engineering though the aft lock and cargo bay up to the forward inner lock. Shorty and Yak were openly armed and stood guard at the bottom of the ramp near a docking clamp that had a good line of site across the dock towards the AD lock compartment. As one might expect, no one had much to say about it – Yak and Shorty tend to stifle any argument, geared out in full mimetics, with rifles at the ready.
I worked like a fiend in engineering, swapping parts throughout the reac drives as fast as the dockside 'mechanics' could haul them in, but of course, it was time consuming work. I may have bitten off a little more than I could chew, but I was going like gangbusters.
Once I had the ion grates installed in the new housing they had machined, I set a trickle charge on the grates and set Janis loose with simulations via handset prompt.
“Captain, the internal work is done, and we're making great time. We're going outside to replace the nozzles in the bell housings.”
“We have nozzles?” he said innocently. “Just kidding Gene… so we can launch in ten minutes?”
“Not a chance sir, and d on't tell me I have five minutes. We can't possibly be done that fast. It's simply not possible.” I repeated firmly, just to make sure he understood. As I spoke, I was hooking over the ladder and dropping to the deck of the cargo bay, with machinists and engineers chasing to keep up.
“Well Gene, I was afraid of that. Unfortunately for us, in about ten minutes there isn't going to be enough sky to fly, it will be filled with dropships.”
“I'm afraid we're going as fast as we can, Dak”, I replied as we bounded down the ramp to the dock and headed sternward.
“Very well Gene. Carry on and remain calm, as they say.” At that moment I had made it to the stern tubes, trailing my ragtag retinue of dock workers, and assorted hangers-on. I swarmed up the scaffolding towards the bell housings, the massive bell-shaped units at the end of our motors that deform to provide vectored thrust of the ion jets that exit the nozzles. The AD folks were already breaking out the new nozzles from their crates, and I took a brief moment of silence to look them over.
They were absolutely beautiful, formed out of glassed tungsten, with a ceramide insert. I drooled a little like Pavlov's proverbial pup at the handiwork. No wonder they cost so much – they must arrive from the gods.
The workers had already pulled the old nozzles, and seeing them side by side was like looking at the most beautiful things ever made by man, next to something that fell off the back end of a coal cart. Either the captain was burning a little hot for the spec of our old nozzles, or they were junk – and maybe a little of both. Luckily, the new ones were rated well in excess of any charge we could get to the grates, even with our tuned tokamak.
“Janis, it's important to recalibrate the throttle on this bird, we don't have pseudomass compensation for the acceleration limits we will have with the new engines.”
“I have done this already Gene, though the limit is considerably higher than you might think.”
“Well, as you think best, dear, but don't tell Captain Smith, or he will peel the tires clean off.”
“Gene, we do not have tires, though I do recognize the term. Should I assume you were being facetious?”
“Well... okay, yeah. I guess I was. I guess.”
“You don't sound very convincing Gene, but I understand your concern.
*****
The mooring crew at the Applied Dynamics dock seemed surprised to see us, but I played the dumb wrench monkey that didn’t know better, and referred them to check their schedule – which showed us right on time. They didn't realize it was Janis that had modified their schedule, and probably didn’t care. A job was a job.
We were all suited up again, and airless all the way from engineering though the aft lock and cargo bay up to the forward inner lock. Shorty and Yak were openly armed and stood guard at the bottom of the ramp near a docking clamp that had a good line of site across the dock towards the AD lock compartment. As one might expect, no one had much to say about it – Yak and Shorty tend to stifle any argument, geared out in full mimetics, with rifles at the ready.
I worked like a fiend in engineering, swapping parts throughout the reac drives as fast as the dockside 'mechanics' could haul them in, but of course, it was time consuming work. I may have bitten off a little more than I could chew, but I was going like gangbusters.
Once I had the ion grates installed in the new housing they had machined, I set a trickle charge on the grates and set Janis loose with simulations via handset prompt.
“Captain, the internal work is done, and we're making great time. We're going outside to replace the nozzles in the bell housings.”
“We have nozzles?” he said innocently. “Just kidding Gene… so we can launch in ten minutes?”
“Not a chance sir, and d on't tell me I have five minutes. We can't possibly be done that fast. It's simply not possible.” I repeated firmly, just to make sure he understood. As I spoke, I was hooking over the ladder and dropping to the deck of the cargo bay, with machinists and engineers chasing to keep up.
“Well Gene, I was afraid of that. Unfortunately for us, in about ten minutes there isn't going to be enough sky to fly, it will be filled with dropships.”
“I'm afraid we're going as fast as we can, Dak”, I replied as we bounded down the ramp to the dock and headed sternward.
“Very well Gene. Carry on and remain calm, as they say.” At that moment I had made it to the stern tubes, trailing my ragtag retinue of dock workers, and assorted hangers-on. I swarmed up the scaffolding towards the bell housings, the massive bell-shaped units at the end of our motors that deform to provide vectored thrust of the ion jets that exit the nozzles. The AD folks were already breaking out the new nozzles from their crates, and I took a brief moment of silence to look them over.
They were absolutely beautiful, formed out of glassed tungsten, with a ceramide insert. I drooled a little like Pavlov's proverbial pup at the handiwork. No wonder they cost so much – they must arrive from the gods.
The workers had already pulled the old nozzles, and seeing them side by side was like looking at the most beautiful things ever made by man, next to something that fell off the back end of a coal cart. Either the captain was burning a little hot for the spec of our old nozzles, or they were junk – and maybe a little of both. Luckily, the new ones were rated well in excess of any charge we could get to the grates, even with our tuned tokamak.
“Janis, it's important to recalibrate the throttle on this bird, we don't have pseudomass compensation for the acceleration limits we will have with the new engines.”
“I have done this already Gene, though the limit is considerably higher than you might think.”
“Well, as you think best, dear, but don't tell Captain Smith, or he will peel the tires clean off.”
“Gene, we do not have tires, though I do recognize the term. Should I assume you were being facetious?”
“Well... okay, yeah. I guess I was. I guess.”
“You don't sound very convincing Gene, but I understand your concern.
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