Heart of Steel: Book II of the Jonathan Pavel Series (17 page)

Jonathan's com line beeped shaking him out of his thoughts. It was Knowles.

“Skipper, primary rigging crews are on board, and the backup crew is boarding now. All lines secured and Warrant Officer Hu has started supervising offloading of the freighter.”

“Very good Bosun, excellent work,” Jonathan replied.

“Thank you sir. Now could you please get back in here before you turn the rest of my hair grey. It ain't natural or proper for Skippers to be on the rigging line.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes, “Acknowledged Bosun on my way.”

“Thank you sir,” Knowles said before clicking off.

Jonathan guided himself toward
Fury's
airlock. The Bosun was a bit of an odd duck. He certainly fit the mold of a hard as nails, drank his coffee with ground glass instead of sugar spacer, but he seemed to have another side. A softer side with a fixation on the proper order of things. Jonathan never ceased to wonder at the collection of eccentric personalities the Navy seemed to attract. He supposed he counted as one of those. He never felt he fit in anywhere except on a ship between the stars. Jonathan reboarded the
Fury.
The process took some time since the main airlocks were now hooked up to the docking collars, so the crew had to use the auxiliary hatches. Jonathan was one of the last back onboard. He’d lingered outside with Hilper and did a final headcount to make sure no one was left outside. Finally, confident that there were no stragglers, and with Knowles constantly in his ear making sure he hadn't floated away, Jonathan and Hilper,  having been cycled through the airlock, locked themselves to the suit racks and began pulling themselves out of their vac suits. Jonathan had read somewhere that early space suits took three people to change in and out of. Technology had come a long way since then. These days it took fifteen minutes or less for a single spacer to get in or out of a vac suit. Once the helmet and RCS pack was locked into the suit rack, the person wearing the suit put their gloves into the release sockets, which automatically opened the risk locks freeing the crewman to unlock his or her helmet and key in the unseal command on the chest pad. Once the unseal command had been keyed in, the suit’s nanofibers unlocked themselves along a central seam and let the crewman peel the suit off like a glove. It wasn't flawless though. After freeing himself, looking over at Hilper Jonathan saw she seemed to be stuck. Her left arm was free but she was still trying to free her right, and her helmet was still on. Jonathan pulled himself over to her, and helped her unlock the helmet latch which had caught some how. Free of the helmet, she managed to wiggle out and push the helmet away. That was the problem then. It hadn’t caught properly on its locking rack. As the helmet came away her hair net went with it allowing her black hair, which was an inch shy of the regulated maximum, to float free.
Fury
was currently riding at zero-g with her grav plates deactivated. She would remain so as long as
Taudown
and
Doneghy
were docked. All three ships would leave there grav plates switched off. This was partially to expedite the transfer of equipment and personnel, and to prevent the grav plates from depolarizing due to their close proximity. Grav plates were tricky things at the best of times. In space dock at
Macran,
ships would leave theirs turned off and use the stations gravity. Replenishment vessels like
Leaf Hopper
would turn theirs off when they came into close contact with bigger ships, but the big ships that were coupled together it was always best just to leave them turned off. Repolarizing could take weeks, which meant weeks of being stuck in zero-g. Not a problem for Spacers, but it completely changed the dynamic of operating a warship. Jonathan often wondered how the crews of the old boats had done it before grav plating had become commonplace and affordable. Hilper didn't seem to know either judging by the way she pulled herself free of the suit waving her arms about.

“Lieutenant remember your training, use the rails to pull you,” Jonathan said.  Hilper took hold of the bar and pulled herself out.

Jonathan deliberately kept his eyes focused on her face. When in vac suits crewman only wore their skivvies which were right now quite rank with sweat. The nit-thread
undergarments left little to the imagination though.

Finally, Hilper was fully free holding onto one of the hand rails breathing heavily.

Jonathan grabbed one of the hydration packs and handed it to her.

“Takes a lot out of you doesn't it,” Jonathan said.

Hilper nodded drinking deeply from the hydration pack.

“Good work out there today Lieutenant. We were lucky to have you.”

Hilper looked at him still panting, “We would have been luckier if we hadn’t lost anyone sir,” she said.

“Yes, that would have been ideal. However, you and the other lifeguards saved those other crew men’s lives. I’ll be recommending a commendation for all of you.”

Hilper looked down for a second, then said, “Sir, do me a favor. Write me up when I do something more than my job all right?”

Jonathan looked at her quizzically, “You don't want a commendation El-tee?”

“I want to do my job and do it well sir. I don't want to be patted on the head everytime I do.”

Jonathan shrugged, obviously Hilper had some kind of chip on her shoulder. “Fair enough, but you will agree the rest of your team should be written up?”

Hilper blinked, “Oh, aye sir.”

“Good. Since you won't be wanting any commendation for yourself bring me the commendation certificates for the rest of the lifeguards to sign at your convenience. Now, if you will excuse me I need to take a shower.”

Hilper wrinkled her nose, “I think that might be a good idea sir.” 

Jonathan chuckled as they pulled themselves out of the airlock and back to their quarters. 

Being stuck with zero-g did have its perks though, a zero gravity shower was one of them. Most crewmen and officers used vibe showers, which removed dirt and grime with sonic waves. Senior officers had water showers, which were designed to function in both normal gravity and zero-g. Though Jonathan would have enjoyed a decadent hour long shower after being stuck in that EVA suit for five hours, he limited himself to ten minutes. He needed to get changed and get to the wardroom where George would be waiting with the new officers. Putting on his undress uniform and pulling himself down the corridors Jonathan dodged crewmen and containers right and left.  The corridors were filled with men and provisions being stowed while the Quartermaster and NCOs did their best to supervise. Still, it amounted to organized chaos. Finally coming to the wardroom, Jonathan activated his magnetic boots so he could at least nominally enter on his feet. Walking through the door, the other officers seated at the cherry oak conference table rose. Jonathan always liked wardrooms. They were a piece of the ship where by tradition aesthetic triumphed over efficiency.
Fury’s
was no different. Despite its metal floors, it had its cherry oak conference table, wood paneled walls with crown molding border on which hung paintings of ships from the Terran nations that Solarians had sprung from. A Frigate from the Age of Sail flying a crowded red white and blue flag with thirteen stars. A Chinese Junk in front of the ancient skyline of Hong Kong. The grey steel of an ocean going aircraft carrier flying an orange, white and green banner with a blue wheel in the middle, and then their was Jonathan's favorite painting. An image of the
Feng,
a first generation space warship, which first saw action during the first Mars rising. Taking himself from his appreciation of the room, Jonathan returned the other officers’ salutes.

“Be seated,”  Jonathan said gingerly walking around to the head of the table. He  deactivated his mag boots raising his legs so he had the appearance of sitting as he floated freely. The other officers did likewise some with more ease than others.

“Right then, I am Lt. Captain Pavel commander of this vessel. I apologize for the delay, but we were a bit short staffed and it was all hands on deck. So George, care to introduce me to the rest of my officers.”

“Certainly sir,” George said.

“We have Lt. Commander Benjamin Elman our tactical officer.” Elman was a young man with Landed looks - black hair and cool hazel eyes. He appeared tall, but Jonathan couldn't tell with him floating freely. According to his file, Elman was the holder of the Darden Cup, the Overwatch award for the winner of the annual strategic simulation tournament held at the end of each year. The same Cup Jonathan had won twice while enrolled at Overwatch. He was young though, 26 according to his file and already a Lt. Commander. Jonathan noted that he didn’t appear to have a patron, so his promotions seemed to be merit based.

George continued, “This is Commander Christopher Perkins our new sawbones.” The ship's doctor was a handsome man obviously of Steader stock, but Steaders of the well-off variety by the way he crinkled his nose when George called him a sawbones. Jonathan could tell he didn't have a sense of humor.

“This is the Reverend Mary-Beth Hightower, New Anglican Church our ship’s Chaplin.” Mary-Beth Hightower smiled meekly and nodded. She was an attractive woman, light skinned with freckles, green eyes and flowing brass colored hair that floated all around her. She wore a standard Navy khaki undress uniform, but it was devoid of rank insignia. Instead, her collar tabs bore a small silver cross marking her as a chaplain. Chaplains were paid the equivalent of 1st Lieutenants, but were outside the navy hierarchy. Officially the MOD considered them civilian auxiliaries rather than military personnel, which was an accurate assessment. Chaplains were clergy who volunteered to serve with military units. They went through one month basic training and a three month course on psychological counselling, and were then parceled out across military units. The military had trained counselors, but long experience had revealed that soldiers and spacers were often more at ease talking to some one of the cloth than a professional head shrinker. Jonathan was of the mind that it was because the old adage about the lack of atheists in foxholes held true, even in this day and age. Men didn’t worry about their mental health. But their spiritual well being, that they fretted over. Having chaplains around was good for morale, especially as they often shared the same hardships as the men they tended to. Jonathan's own father had started as a Catholic chaplain before he resigned his appointment and rejoined his regiment as a regular officer. Chaplains in Solarian service were enrolled in service for an indefinite period until they chose to resign, which they could do whenever they wished though a surprising number stayed on for years or decades. Reverend Hightower looked to be one of the newer additions to the Chaplain service. In fact, she looked a little green around the gills.

“Reverand are you ill?” Jonathan asked.

“Apologies sir, I get um Space sick,” she replied somewhat embarrassed.

“Ahh...” Jonathan said raising an eyebrow. “Do you wish to go lie down?”

“No sir, thank you. Um... I have my nausea patch on so I’ll be okay for a few more hours.”

“Well, make sure you check in with medbay to get the dosage right,” Jonathan said.

“I can write you a script for a subdural pod,” Perkins said. “Or we can do a series of injections, much better than the patch.”

“Um, no thanks doctor,” Hightower said. “I’ll stick with the patch.”

Perkins opened his mouth to argue the point. But Jonathan interjected.

“Alright then, who else,” Jonathan said looking back to George.

“Finally sir, this is Major Alicia Kern our new Marine Contingent Commander.”

Jonathan looked at Major Kern. She was a Provo and a big woman, though it was hard to tell in zero-g. Jonathan kew she was six and a half feet tall, easily a full foot taller than him. She was also well muscled. Her hair was white, though that seemed to be a genetic quirk as she was only thirty-three. Her grey eyes were surprisingly kind and her face was very attractive.  Jonathan was tempted to ask why she was in Marine green rather than on the cover of fashion mag. That would be unprofessional though, and Jonathan quashed his very unprofessional thoughts. The Major was a Marine, and the leader of
Fury's
Marine contingent. He owed her the same respect regardless of her looks.

“Good to meet you Major Kern,” Jonathan nodded.

Kern blinked and nodded, “Likewise sir,” she said her voice salted with a accent Jonathan didn't quite recognize.

“Now, as I am sure you're all aware, I am Jonathan Pavel CO of
Fury.
This is George Pai the executive officer. Welcome aboard. The
Fury
is an older ship, but she's a solid hull. She's been asleep for a good while so we have a lot of work to do, I would appreciate it if you get each of your departments in order, and Reverend I am sure you heard we sustained casualties during the docking operation. If you feel able, I’d like you to supervise the handling of the remains and earthly possessions. Also, please make yourself available to any of the crew who need to talk.”

“I..will sir.” she managed to say in between gulps “I, um.. know a lot of the crew are Stellanauta though. I am not sure if I’m the right person to talk to. Shouldn't it be someone of higher rank?”

Jonathan waved his hand dismissively. Groundsiders got some unusual ideas in their heads about spacer culture and practices.