“Look him up,” Berg said, angrily. “Seriously. Use that computer for something other than porn for God’s sake.”
“Settle down, Two-Gun,” Jaen said easily. “We get the point. He’s heap big mojo.”
“Guy’s been outside the universe,” Berg said, closing his eyes. “He’s touched the face of God. He’s not just a grapping nav. The SEAL with him won the grapping Medal!”
“Settle down, Two-Gun,” Jaen said, obviously grinning. “We get it.”
“Weaver was at the Charge of the Redneck Brigade,” Berg said. “He went into a gate in Florida and came out of a completely unlinked gate in Virginia! And that was before he really got in some maulk.”
“You want to have his babies,” Drago said, chuckling. “We get it.”
“No grapping clue…”
“I have Miss Miriam in a pressurization chamber,” Dr. Chet said. He pulled thoughtfully at the beard that hung nearly to his chest and looked at the overhead.
“She has no gross trauma from her depressurization. She has some hypobaric edema but otherwise seems fine. Nonetheless, I would like to keep her under observation for a time. She has expressed a desire to remain in isolation as well.”
“Did she say why?” the CO asked.
“The edema manifests as large red marks that will eventually fade to something that look a bit like bruises,” Dr. Chet responded. “Since some of them are on her face, they are… unsightly.”
“Oh,” the CO said, grinning. “Tell her she can stay out of sight as long as she likes but that we look forward to seeing her again when she’s ready to come out.”
“I wouldn’t have popped my armor for a bet,” the XO said.
“While there are many problems inherent in rapid depressurization, it is not an instant killer,” Dr. Chet said. “It is believed that a person can withstand absolute vacuum for up to a minute. No one, of course, has ever tested that hypothesis and I hope that we are not the first to do so. However, what is not widely publicized is that on many of the EVAs done to date there have been pressure leaks of the suits because a seal wasn’t properly set and the astronauts were exposed to the vacuum for a few tens of seconds before the suits were resealed. In all cases that has not been a problem. Also, because the compartment was being vented and the hole was relatively small, Miriam was simply in a reduced pressure condition. While that is dangerous, the period that she was at reduced pressure was short. I believe her period of unconsciousness was more a result of the psychological trauma than physical. Miss Miriam is… delicate.”
“Well, as long as I know I won’t have to depend on her for the first ten seconds or so of an emergency, I’ll take her as backstop any time,” Miller said. “She really does panic, though, in those first ten seconds. Ye flipping gods does she panic.”
“What’s the next step?” the CO asked.
“We need to descend into the atmosphere, sir,” Weaver said. “That’s got other problems. The region we have to descend into is the pressure equivalent of about two hundred feet of water. Again, the seals might not hold. This time, though, we’re talking about over-pressure. The problem being that the atmosphere coming in isn’t breathable. It’s also not a killer, though. Fire-fighting air systems would work to deal with it. But we should reinforce the joints as much as possible. Oh, and the air’s going to be cold. We can actually use it for some of the chilling systems. We might think about extending the chillers while we’re doing this, it will vent some heat.”
“We’re low on air, so we don’t have a lot of time to work on this,” the CO said. “But, XO, I want pipe-seals on all those vents. We’re probably going to get some of that atmosphere in the ship, but let’s get as little as possible.”
“Will do, sir,” the XO said.
“What’s the composition?” Dr. Chet asked.
“The area we’re descending to is primarily hydrogen,” Weaver replied. “But it has a high concentration of oxygen, about one percent. Very little CO2, less than a hundredth of a percent. Just about zero nitrogen. Argon, helium, mostly noble gasses are the biggest traces. But it’s the thickest concentration of oxygen in the atmosphere; we dropped a probe to check.”
“Other than the pressure, that is fully breathable,” Dr. Chet said. “In fact, if the system fails and the compartment vents, all we’ll have to ensure is that it does not depressurize quickly. That composition is actually rather good for that pressure. Breathing systems may not be necessary. In fact, I would recommend against them. The oxygen in the breathing systems is the most dangerous thing a human could be taking in under that amount of pressure.”
“So if we have a high pressure… issue, they should just breathe it?” the XO asked.
“Yes, that would be my recommendation,” Dr. Chet said. “And if the compartment does flood with that mixture, we will need to ensure that it does not rapidly vent when we leave. To ensure the personnel are not affected by depressurization problems we will need to slowly reduce the pressure. We will need to monitor oxygen levels closely; at high pressures oxygen is toxic. In addition, we will need to ensure that the persons exposed to it have enough time to get the nitrogen out of their systems before they are depressurized. It will depend on the structure of the pressure event. How to decompress will have to be calculated later.”
“What about getting the hydrogen out of the ship?” the XO asked.
“It has little clinical effect,” Dr. Chet said, shrugging. “We can get rid of it slowly.”
“It’s a slippery molecule, sir,” Weaver added. “It’s going to slip out through the hull much less our sealing system. We’ll slowly get rid of it no matter what we do.”
“And it’s not dangerous?” the CO asked.
“Not a bit,” Dr. Chet said.
“So we’re just supposed to breathe this stuff?” Petty Officer Michael “Sub Dude” Gants said, looking at the much patched magnet mount. The short, hairy engineer frowned.
The submarine service attracts people who in other services would be on the far end of the bell curve for oddball. Among other things, they are required to be well above average intelligence yet still have sufficient phlegmatism to withstand the rigors of the “secret service.” Very thoughtful but not so thoughtful as to be freaked out by having a bazillion tons of water pressing in on a tin can made by the lowest bidder. Very smart and yet oh so very stupid.
And of all the people in the sub service, the epitome were the engineers. They were the people with that warm green glow, the guys who ran the nuke plant, the guys with little hope of ever having normal children. The weirdest of the weird.
Gants was among the worst of the worst. He was an MM (N), a nuke machinist mate. The nukes were weird; the machinist mates, though, were the practical jokers. A nuke practical joker machinist mate. That spelled Trouble to everyone who knew him. Short and unassuming, he was one of the most feared people on the boat. Gants scared even the torpedo guys.
“And not use the air systems,” PO2 Ian “Red” Morris said. Red was as tall as Gants was short but with flaming red hair. Thus the nickname. Submariners are simple people on many levels.
“That’s gonna be fun,” Gants said.
“Prepare for atmospheric entry,” the 1-MC said.
“Looks good so far,” Gants said.
“Don’t think we’re down to pressure, yet,” Red replied, in a high, squeaky, voice. “Huh?”