'Authorizing the maneuver, aye.' Paul carefully depressed two buttons in sequence, telling the Michaelson' s computers to carry out the preplanned maneuver when the countdown hit zero. 'Maneuver authorized.' It had taken a while for Paul to get used to the standard Navy practices of repeating back orders and stating information which everyone should already know, but he'd soon learned how important both routines were to ensuring orders had been properly understood and that everyone actually knew everything they needed to know.
The two-minute and one-minute warnings passed, then Paul watched the final seconds count down. After long periods spent without maneuvering, any change of course and speed brought some excitement, as well as extra stresses on the bodies of the Michaelson 's crew.
'Executing ordered maneuver,' the Michaelson 's voice announced. A moment later, Paul felt his body strain against his straps as the maneuvering thrusters pushed the Michaelson 's megatons of mass down and over to a new heading. With the ship swinging toward the proper heading, Paul's back slammed into his chair as the ship's main drive cut in, pushing the ship onto the proper vector to intercept the first escape pod. Paul watched the gravity meter climb swiftly to more than twice Earth's normal gravity under the force of the main drives, then switched his gaze to the main display, where the arc of the Michaelson 's actual course smoothly dropped toward the new course laid out by Carl. The main drive cut off, causing Paul's stomach to lurch as zero gravity abruptly returned, then his body hit his straps again as more thrusters fired to halt the ship's bow on the proper heading.
'Sweet,' Carl muttered, eyeing the perfect joining of actual track with the planned course. 'How're you doing?'
'Nauseated and bruised.'
'Welcome to the glamorous Space Navy. It's not just a job, it's physical and mental abuse.' Carl checked the display again. 'One hour, fifty minutes to intercept of the first pod. Hey, did we notify the bosun mates we'd be needing the grapnels?'
The bosun mate of the watch cleared his throat. 'Beggin' your pardon, sir, I took the liberty of passin' that word.'
'Thanks, bosun.' Carl shook his head and smiled ruefully. 'Imagine if we'd been bearing down on that pod and suddenly realized the grapnels weren't ready. So many ways to mess up, Paul. I can't say I'll miss it all that much.'
The hour and fifty minutes dragged slowly onward as the Michaelson steadily headed toward the point where she'd intercept the track of the first Greenspace pod. About fifteen minutes prior to the intercept, the XO came onto the bridge, scanned the displays silently, then pulled himself into his chair and strapped in. Five minutes after that, the bosun once again called out 'Captain's on the bridge!' as Gonzalez and Hayes entered as well.
Carl tapped his panel to bring up direct communications with the bosun mates operating the grapnels. 'We've got a fast passing speed on this intercept. Are you tracking the pod?'
'Yes, sir.' The voice was recognizable as that of the leading chief bosun mate, personally supervising her sailors during this evolution. 'Those pods have reinforced grapnel points. We should bring off the snatch fine, unless he tries moving at the last minute. It'll bruise him up a little, of course.'
'That's a real shame, Boats.' Carl turned toward Gonzalez. 'Captain, the grapnels are ready.'
Gonzalez nodded almost absently, her eyes on the display where the pod symbol and that of the Michaelson steadily closed on each other. 'Very well.'
Hayes leaned forward as well. 'Officer of the Deck, is the First Lieutenant supervising the grapnels?'
'No, sir. He's in charge of the gig, so he's standing by there. The leading bosun chief is at the grapnel station.'
'I see. Thank you.'
Carl raised an eyebrow toward Paul, who made a noncommittal expression back. It was impossible to tell whether Captain Hayes approved of the situation or not. Which was how it should be, since Gonzalez remained the captain of the Michaelson, but it left Paul and Carl wondering what Hayes might do, what things he might change, when he assumed command in the near future.
The Michaelson 's maneuvering system spoke to the bridge. 'Closest Point of Approach to Contact Alpha Charlie One is 100.2 meters in four minutes, thirty seconds. Recommend maneuvering to open CPA.'
CPA stood for Closest Point of Approach, and one hundred meters at the speed the Michaelson was traveling meant they'd pass very close indeed. But that was their intention. Paul tapped a switch to acknowledge the information and recommendation, then hit another command to keep the Michaelson from automatically continuing to recommend opening the distance to the pod.
'CPA to Contact Alpha Charlie One is 99.6 meters in two minutes, two seconds.'
Carl faced the captain again. 'Request permission to launch grapnel when ready.'
'Permission granted.'
'Boats, launch grapnel when ready.'
'Launch when ready, aye, sir. Standing by.'
They could have turned off the Michaelson 's announcements completely, but most officers preferred letting them be spoken to reduce possible misreading of displays. 'CPA to Contact Alpha Charlie One is 99.1 meters in fifty-three seconds.'
Moments later, an alert signified the launching of a grapnel to intercept the pod. Technically, the launch was simply a matter of letting the Michaelson 's fire control system calculate the launch time and direction. In practice, experienced bosuns always let their instincts time the launch. On the bridge close-in displays, a representation of the grapnel snaked out toward the oncoming pod. The end of the grapnel merged with the pod symbol, then the Michaelson lurched slightly as the ship absorbed the pod's momentum and mass, seizing the pod like a catcher snagging a ball in mid-flight. Carl tapped his communications panel. 'How's the strain, Boats?'
'A little heavy, but she's okay, sir. A few more seconds and I'll start reeling in our catch.'
'Our first catch, Boats.'
Paul tapped his own control. 'Boats, is Petty Officer Sharpe down there?'
'Yes, sir. Along with all his deputies. We got a nice little reception waiting for our guests.'
Paul grinned. 'Be nice, Boats. Use minimal force necessary to maintain control.'
'Heck, sir, I never use excessive force.' The bosun mate at the back of the bridge coughed suddenly, his face reflecting disbelief at the statement.
'Never?' Carl asked.
'Well, hardly ever, sir. We got a firm grip on the pod, sir. Starting retraction sequence. What'll I do with the pod once I get the dirtbags out?'
Carl frowned, then glanced at Captain Gonzalez, who frowned and looked at Paul. 'Mr. Sinclair, is there any fleet legal guidance on that?'
Paul swallowed. 'Ma'am, I'll have to check.'
'Do that. It's not like any of the rest of us thought of it before now.'
Paul called up his legal references, hastily conducting a series of searches while trying not to notice how the pod was being reeled in closer every second. 'Captain, the general rule is that an escape pod belongs to the originating ship or ship owner and should be either held for their retrieval or left with a beacon for eventual pickup.'
Gonzalez rubbed her chin. 'That's the general rule, huh? But we just seized that ship.'
'Yes, ma'am. The guidance on seizure of ships violating restricting areas says we should hold them for whatever disposition is decided upon by fleet command.'
'It sounds like you're telling me we have to drag those things along with us, Paul.'
'Yes, ma'am, I think so.'
'We can't just leave them with a beacon?'
'No, ma'am. I'm reading between the lines here, but I guess there's concern that if they're left, the Greenspacers might be able to swoop in with another ship and recover them before another of our ships can do the job.'
'Well, hell.' Gonzalez threw up her hands. 'Thank you, Mr. Sinclair. Mr. Meadows, inform the Chief Bosun that we'll need to bring all the pods along. I'd appreciate any recommendations she might have for doing that.'
'Yes, ma'am.'
