Behind Paul, the bosun's pipe sounded. 'Underway! Shift colors!' Where a surface ship would have lowered its bow and stern flags and raised one from the main mast, the bosun on the Michaelson simply punched a key on his console, changing her self-broadcast identity code to indicate the ship was no longer tethered to another object with a fixed orbit.
Lieutenant Tweed nodded stiffly, still watching her display, where the separation between ship and station grew steadily as the Michaelson swung out and ahead. Paul could see a fine sheen of sweat on her upper lip. 'Port thrusters all ahead two thirds. Main drive all ahead one third.'
'Port thrusters all ahead two thirds, aye. Main drive all ahead one third, aye.'
Paul felt a kick in his back as the Michaelson 's powerful main drive kicked in, shoving the ship forward even as the maneuvering thrusters pushed her farther away from the station. On his display, the ship's projected course now formed a beautiful arc leading away from the station.
Tweed watched as the display showed the ship's actual path rising to match the projected path set by the station traffic monitors. Just before the two paths merged she called out more commands. 'Secure port thrusters. Main drive all ahead two thirds.'
'Port thrusters secure, aye, main drive all ahead two thirds, aye.'
Tweed looked back to where the quartermaster sat. 'Recommendation?'
'I recommend course two three zero degrees absolute, up fifteen degrees, ma'am. That will take us toward the center of our assigned operating area.'
Tweed looked toward the Captain, who nodded brusquely. 'Very well,' she acknowledged. 'Helm, bring us to course two three zero degrees absolute, up fifteen degrees. Captain, request permission to secure from getting underway.'
'Permission granted.'
Tweed gestured to the petty officer of the watch, who triggered the ship's intercom. 'All hands, secure from getting underway. The ship remains in maneuvering status. All hands exercise caution in moving about.'
USS Michaelson shuddered as the helm orders caused thrusters around her hull to fire, killing drift in one direction, then bringing her bow around to the desired course. Paul watched the process unfold on his display like a piece of fine art, the current course track once again sliding gently into perfect alignment with the desired course.
'The Captain has left the bridge.' Startled by the petty officer's announcement, Paul looked around, suddenly realizing he had been paying attention to nothing but the track display. That's dumb. Even I should know better. I have to stay aware of everything going on while I'm on the watch.
The XO unbuckled herself as well, moving carefully against the force provided by Michaelson's main drives. 'Good job, Ms. Tweed.'
'Thank you, ma'am.' Tweed watched Herdez leave the bridge, then sighed heavily, leaning back against the acceleration. 'God. It's over.'
Paul eyed her with surprise. 'You handled that real well.'
'It surprises people. I know.'
'That's not-.'
'Yes, it was. Don't worry about it. I understand. I'm just glad it's over.' Tweed wiped her lower face with one hand, smearing the sweat, and breathed deeply several times.
Paul watched her, unable to match what he'd already seen of Jan Tweed with the way she'd handled getting the Michaelson underway. 'Were you really that worried?'
She cocked one eye at Paul, then snorted a brief laugh. 'Paul, I was scared out of my mind. I always am.'
'But you did it real well, ma'am. It was like… like, a piece of art.'
'Thanks. The key is to feel the ship. Don't just look at the displays. Feel how she's moving. Some of these clods just try to jerk her around and end up burning enough reaction mass to get us to Jupiter and back.' Tweed looked annoyed. 'My name's Jan. Any lieutenant who needs to be formal with other junior officers needs an ego- ectomy.'
'Aye, aye, Jan.'
'Good. How about you take the conn now?' Paul felt his guts twist, then nodded. Having the conn meant he would be responsible for giving commands controlling the Michaelson 's course and speed. Even with Lieutenant Tweed sitting nearby, and even with experienced sailors at the controls, it was a huge responsibility. Yet it was also a responsibility he should shoulder as soon as possible. You only learn to drive ships by driving ships.
Tweed turned slightly, speaking loudly enough that her voice carried across the bridge. 'This is Lieutenant Tweed. Ensign Sinclair has the conn.'
'This is Ensign Sinclair,' Paul stated as steadily as he could, trying to match Tweed's tone. 'I have the conn.' The petty officer of the watch and the helm watchstander nodded in acknowledgement.
Tweed grinned. 'Scared?' she whispered.
'Terrified.'
'Good. Stay scared. People who relax end up having collisions. Just keep on eye on the contacts being tracked. The equipment is supposed to let us know if anything is on a collision or near-miss track relative to us, but it isn't smart to trust that entirely. Keep an eye on the tracks and be ready to react if any act funny.' She called up data on her screen. 'See this? That's our track through the operating area. Here's how we're coming in. Looks like there's a couple of other ships out there, but they've got their beacons on and are well clear of us.'
'Right. Beacons.'
Tweed watched Paul intently. 'You know why beacons are important, Paul? Why we need to know if they're on or off on us or other ships?'
'Well, they make it easier to see the ships, right?'
'You might say that. Michaelson and other warships are designed to be as environmentally passive as possible. That means they're real hard to see. Visually, infrared, radar, whatever. What happens when you're walking around things you can't see?'
'You trip over them.'
'Yeah. Every second you're standing watch up here, you have to think about other ships tripping over us because they can't see us, or us hitting someone we didn't see until too late.' She grinned nervously. 'I hate it. Really.'
'I can see why.' Paul's mind briefly looked ahead, to endless hours worrying about unseen objects in the Michaelson's path, then he shut down the vision. If I think about that too much, it'll scare me to death. 'Jan? Can I ask something personal?'
'Depends. Ask and I'll let you know if I want to answer.'
'You handled getting us underway just fine. Right now, you feel like you're in charge. Really capable. But, well, I don't know how to say this-'
'I've got a reputation as someone who can't be trusted and shirks responsibility. Is that it?'
'I didn't-'
'You don't have to.' Tweed slumped a bit, staring glumly at her displays. 'I'm not a bad officer, Paul. I'm not going to foul up anything big or hurt a fellow officer. But I miss little stuff. Here and there. It adds up. And when I miss little stuff I get chewed out, and I don't like that. So I hide. Don't look like that. I know that's what people say. It's true. I will be the happiest human in history when I leave this ship. Until then, I'm just trying not to screw up any big things. Okay?'
'Okay.'
'Enough on that. Here's another tip on something that's gotten me into trouble more than once.' Tweed grinned in obvious self-mockery. 'Distance in space is weird. You feel like it takes forever to get anywhere, but then you find yourself someplace a lot quicker than you expected. And you're not ready for getting there because your mind is in long-distance-nothing-happening coast mode. How far are we from the operating area?'
'Uh…' Paul checked his scan frantically, surprised when he saw the projected arrival time had already shrunk appreciably. 'Closer than I thought.'
'We move fast up here. Earth instincts are totally out of whack with the distances and the speeds. So get as much ready as you can, as soon as you can, before you're actually at the objective. Go ahead and work up the maneuver needed to match us onto our planned track once we get to the oparea.'
