"Fifty-one percent? How can it be that low already?" Gonzalez thumbed a communications switch. "Gig, this is Captain Gonzalez. Confirm your current fuel state."
Ensign Diego's voice held a hint of worry when he replied. "The gig is at 51 percent fuel, ma'am."
"How'd you get down to 51 percent this quickly? Is there a problem with a fuel tank?"
"Uh, no, ma'am. We, uh, launched at 75 percent — ."
"You didn't launch with one hundred percent fuel?"
"N-no, ma'am."
Gonzalez glowered at her display, her face reddening, the fingers of one hand drumming on her chair arm. "Mr. Meadows, order the gig to come back aboard. Have the Chief Bosun Mate personally supervise getting the gig and the escape pod secured inside the dock. Mr. Diego, in the future you are to ensure the gig's fuel is topped off prior to launch so that I have the option to use it as needed instead of bringing it back almost immediately. Is that clearly understood, Mr. Diego?"
"Y-yes, ma'am."
"It had better be."
Carl turned toward Paul and let a flash of exasperation show on his face.
Paul nodded briefly back. Carl told Randy to fuel up the gig. Randy didn't listen, probably because he'd stayed focused on getting his training records reviewed. Now Randy's in the captain's dog house and the captain is probably looking for someone else to screw up so she can rip their head off. I hope Carl and I don't run into any more problems until Gonzalez calms down again.
Fortunately for Paul, Carl, the rest of the bridge watch and any other sailor within Captain Gonzalez's sight and hearing, no further problems hampered the recovery of the remaining pods. Whether cowed by the warning the Michaelson had sent out, or simply exercising an uncommon degree of common sense, the demonstrators avoided any other maneuvering, so their pods could be snapped up in tense but problem-free intercepts.
"Knock it off!" Carl gave the enlisted watchstanders a hard look to accompany his order, and both ceased their conversation instantly.
Paul raised an eyebrow at Carl. "They weren't that loud," he noted in a whisper.
Carl frowned, then nodded. "No, they weren't. I'm a little on edge."
"Me, too. We sit here for half an hour, then for a few minutes everything's tense as we grab a pod, then we get beat up by the ship maneuvering and get to wait a while again. I'll be real happy when we either get that last pod or our watch reliefs get here."
"They're here, Paul." Carl hooked a thumb toward one corner of the bridge.
Paul glanced that way, surprised to see Lieutenant Diem and Ensign Gabriel attached to tie-downs there. He checked the time, shocked to discover he was already past due for relief. Heck, I've been so wrapped up in each stage of this I lost track of how long we've been chasing these damn pods. "Why haven't they relieved us?"
"In the middle of this goat rope? I wouldn't want to take over under those conditions, and neither would you. We'll finish this out, then they'll relieve us."
Paul nodded reluctantly. "I guess that's true. What if we'd only been halfway through snagging the pods when our relief time rolled around?"
"We weren't. Different situation. Don't get locked into fixed procedures, Paul. If everything could be handled by formulas they'd have a couple of robots doing our job." Carl paused, his expression thoughtful. "Of course, my robot would be a lot better than your robot."
"And prone to delusional thinking. Okay, we're about to snag the last pod."
Carl tapped his communications panel. "Boats, any problems with stowing this last pod?"
"No, sir. It'll fit. The gig's not going anywhere else 'til we off-load these pods, though."
"Understand the gig's penned in by the pods in the dock. Thanks, Boats. Here comes number twelve."
Another pass, another lurch, and Michaelson had the last pod in tow. Carl gazed upward thankfully. "Mission accomplished. Captain, we have the last pod in tow."
Captain Gonzalez nodded shortly. "So I see. Notify me when the pod is secured."
"Aye, aye, ma'am."
Lieutenant Diem stole a glance at Captain Gonzalez, still stewing in her chair, then unlatched himself, quickly swung over to Carl and spoke in a low voice. "What's with the CO? She looks ready to chew some serious butt."
"It's a long story, starting with the Greenspacers screwing up the test firing. Just be real careful around her for a while."
"You don't have to tell me twice." Diem watched intently as the last escape pod was hauled in toward its resting place in the gig dock.
After several more minutes, the Chief Bosun called the bridge. "All pods secured, sir. Request permission to secure the gig and grapnel details."
Carl looked toward Captain Gonzalez, but before he could repeat the question she nodded sharply. "Permission granted."
Carl echoed the command. "Boats, permission granted."
He gestured to the bosun mate of the watch, who sketched a salute, keyed his all-hands circuit, then blew a wail on his pipe to get the crew's attention. "Secure the gig and grapnel details. I say again, secure the gig and grapnel details."
Lieutenant Diem looked from Carl to Gonzalez. "What do we do now?"
"Good question." Carl gave the glowering captain a look out of the corner of his eyes. "I really don't want to do this, but I have to."
"I can ask…"
"No. It's still my job." Turning to face the captain, Carl spoke with careful precision. "Captain Gonzalez, request further instructions."
Gonzalez took a moment to reply. "Prepare a course back to Franklin Station. Standard speed. Hold off executing it until I get confirmation from the Commodore, but I expect we'll need to drop off our 'guests' and wait for the test firing to be rescheduled." She turned a hard face toward Carl, then made a visible effort to relax. "Well done, Mr. Meadows. You and your bridge team handled things well." Ripping her harness loose, Captain Gonzalez pulled herself off the bridge.
"Captain's off the bridge!" The bosun of the watch made the announcement as Captain Hayes, his face betraying no emotion, followed in Gonzalez's wake.
Carl Meadows inhaled deeply, then exhaled with relief. "I still live. Can you cook up that course for the captain?"
"Piece of cake," Diem assured him. "What else you got?"
Carl and Paul quickly filled in their reliefs on other information, then Gabriel offered Paul a salute. "I relieve you, sir."
Paul returned the salute gratefully. "I stand relieved." Raising his voice once more, he announced the change. "On the bridge, this is Ens-" Dammit. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Sinclair. Ensign Gabriel has the watch and the conn."
"This is Ensign Gabriel, I have the conn." Gabriel lowered her voice and made an apologetic face. "Sorry we relieved you guys so late."
"It's not your fault. Taking over in the middle of picking up those pods would've been asking for trouble, and the captain might've raised hell if you'd tried."
"Thanks, Paul. Hey, congrats on the promotion."
"Thanks back at you. There's hope for everybody, I guess."
Gabriel laughed. "I think you earned it."
Paul looked over at Carl, who'd also been relieved of the watch but was spending a few minutes unwinding by chatting with Lieutenant Diem. Paul waved at the other officers. "Later, guys." He pulled himself wearily off the bridge, using the easily reached handholds in the overhead. Before I got to a real ship, I used to worry about getting stuck in the middle of a big compartment with no way to reach a handhold. I never stopped to think that there isn't any reason at all to have big, empty compartments on spacecraft. They'd be just a waste of space inside the hull. He floated for a moment outside the bridge hatch, eyes closed, feeling the tension from being on watch slowly draining from his muscles.
I wonder how the Greenspacers are behaving? Aw, geez. That's my job, too. Got to get going. Reaching for another handhold, Paul hastened down to the gig's dock, where the Greenspacers were still being held in a tight bunch by the presence of a menacing-looking Master-at-Arms Ivan Sharpe and his six deputy master-at-arms. Paul paused as he got his first look at the Greenspacers, most of whom were grinning like kids who'd gotten away with a clever stunt. They do look like hippies. "Any problems, Sheriff?"