“Why are you sounding like Donald Duck?” Sub Dude said in the same sort of voice. “Holy maulk! I sound like Donald Duck!” he added as his ears popped.
“Uh, oh,” Red said. “That’s a pressure spike.”
“It’s leaking,” Sub Dude said, holding his hands up to the pipe seal that had been added to the patch. Pipe seals were designed to stop flooding from pipes but they were barely water tight much less air tight. “I can feel air.”
“Command,” Red said, using an internal radio. “We’ve got leakage from Point Four. But it’s not real heavy, yet.”
“Petty Officer Morris, why are you talking like Donald Duck?” the XO asked angrily.
“Sorry, sir, can’t help it,” Red said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know what’s causing it. I’m not doing it on purpose, honest!”
“All hands! Warning! Overpressure breach in missile compartment and engineering! Remain in vacuum conditions! Warning! Overpressure breach in missile compartment and engineering! Remain in vacuum conditions!”
“Okay, what the grapp is going on?” Jaenisch asked. “First we’re losing atmosphere and now… what?”
“I think the Jovian’s atmosphere probably breached some of the seals,” Berg said.
“And that tells me so much, Two-Gun,” Jaen replied.
“Diving into a Jovian’s atmosphere is like going under water,” Berg said. “The air pressure is super high because of the gravity and the depth of the atmosphere. So probably some of the seals breached. Not sure how they’re going to fix that. It’s going to take more than duct tape.”
“What the hell?” the XO said, looking over at Weaver. “The guys down at Patch Four are talking like Donald Duck.”
“Oh, hell,” Weaver said, trying not to laugh. “I forgot. That’s one effect of hydrogen. Ever seen anyone breathe a helium balloon, sir?”
“Yes,” the XO said, then shook his head. “Same effect?”
“Yes, sir,” Bill replied.
“Pressure’s up five pounds in engineering,” the atmospherics monitor said. “And increasing.”
“We’re getting leakage,” Bill said, shrugging. “Sounds like it’s not explosive, though. Not so far.” He spun around and looked at a recently installed monitor. “We’re up to one percent exterior oxygen, sir. I’d suggest we begin atmosphere processing.”
“Roger,” the XO said, turning to the communications system. “Engineering, Conn, begin atmospheric processing.”
“Aye, aye, Conn,” the Eng replied in a high, squeaky voice. “God damn this stuff. It’s the hydrogen, Conn.”
“Roger, we’re aware of that,” the XO said, trying not to grin. “Just let’s start filling up the air tanks.”
“Sir,” Bill said, as the XO cut the comm off.
“Go.”
“Hydrogen’s slippery,” Bill said. “It’s likely to get all through the ship.”
“Oh… hell.”
“Okay, this is grapping ridiculous,” Jaen squeaked. “How in the hell is anyone going to take me seriously when I sound like this?”
“I don’t know, boss,” Hatt said. “Are we supposed take you seriously normally?”
“That’s it,” Jaen tried to growl and failed. “Front-leaning rest position, move!” The last came out as a shrill shriek.
“I guess I might as well just start doing push-ups, too,” Berg said, dropping to the deck and giggling.
“I may sound like Donald Duck but I’m a God damned sergeant in the Space Marines and you are going to remember that!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Berg said.
“Okay, you are so on garbage detail! God, I wish we still had KP!”
“XO, air tanks topped off?” Spectre said in a high, squeaky voice.
“All topped off, sir!” the XO replied, sounding like he was breathing helium. In fact, the most recent analysis had helium as five percent of the internal air. “Internal plugs have been put in place so Commander Weaver won’t have to EVA to put the patch back in. And we’ve mostly filled the water tanks as well.”
The pressure on the exterior of the ship had forced it into the hull throughout the ship. The ship’s atmosphere was now a high pressure mix of hydrogen, helium and oxygen. Gathering the O2 they’d needed had taken hours and after a while they didn’t even try to maintain internal atmospheric integrity; all they’d done was fight the level of O2. Everyone was under a hundred pounds of air pressure, and sounding like a squeaky toy.
“Do we need to stop for ice?” the CO asked, then shook his head. “That sounded really stupid even if I didn’t sound like this.”
“Not really, sir,” the XO said. “There was a lot of water in the atmosphere. At this point, we have sufficient water for three weeks of operation. And if we really need it…”
“We know where to get it,” the CO said, nodding. “Very well, take us out of here, XO. Astro, where we going next?”
“Second star to the right, sir,” Bill said, grinning and pointing up.
“Commander, I think the pressure is getting to you.”
“Oooohhh maaulk!” Weaver said, slapping his forehead.
“Commander Weaver? Is there a problem?”
“I can’t believe I just thought of this…”
“Commander Weaver?” Spectre said impatiently.
“Sorry, sir.” Weaver said hesitantly. “Comets, sir. Most stars should have them and they would be easy to grab.”
“Why is that important to me, Commander Weaver?”
“Comets, sir. Well, uh, comets are mostly water ice. And we could break that out into…”
“Water ice…” Spectre thought about it for a millisecond. “You mean we could have just flown out to the Oort cloud and grabbed a few balls of ice?”
“Yes, sir, hence the ‘oh maulk,’ sir.”
“Mr. Weaver, join me in my office for a moment,” Spectre squeaked, his jaw muscles working tightly as his teeth ground slowly.
17
“Excuse me, miss,” Berg said, then froze in his tracks.
He was headed up to supply to pick up some parts for Drago’s Wyvern, which had developed a cranky streak about running the right arm, when the girl… teenager entered the same passage. His first thought was that she was about the first member of the science team he’d seen; the “mission specialists” tended to keep to their own section of the package. His second thought was that she was awfully young. His third was that she was awfully cute. He was working up to a fourth thought along the lines of the problems with mixing cute and young when the puppet on her shoulder moved and he froze, realizing it wasn’t a puppet. Then he froze more when he realized who he was blocking.
“Err, uh,” Berg said insouciantly. “That’s… uhm.”
Fortunately, the hydrogen had finally bled out of the submarine so his last “uhm” came out as a normal squeak instead of a hydrogen induced one. So much more manly that way.
“He doesn’t bite,” Mimi said, grinning up at the towering Marine. If she was intimidated, it wasn’t apparent.
“I know,” Berg said, clearing his throat. “You must be Mimi Jones. That’s… uh, that is… how is Tuffy?”
“Fine, as always,” Mimi said. “How are you…” She paused as if accessing a memory. “…Two-Gun?”
“Fine, ma’am,” Berg said, suddenly remembering his protocol. The lowliest of the mission specialists rated as an officer. You made way for officers in the corridors. Berg turned to the side and flattened against the bulkhead. “Sorry, ma’am.”