When Riley and Tiger entered the Jan Davis, they encountered a gruesome sight. The environmental system had shut down and the six-person crew, still in their seats, were all dead. “What happened?” Riley asked. “The hull wasn’t compromised.”
Tiger noted the blue lips on the crew and checked the ship’s puter. “Asphyxiated. The environmental system is shut down. This was a rookie crew and they made a rookie mistake. I’ve seen it in simulations. They overloaded the system with too many commands from too many stations and the puter shut down. When they booted back up, they focused on weapons and forgot to put the air cycler back online.”
The Colonel and the sheriff were next inside. “Let’s get these fellows out,” the Colonel said, lifting the navigator from her seat.
“What are we going to do with them?” Riley asked.
“We’ll put them in the jumpcar,” the Colonel replied. “Maybe we can retrieve them later for a proper scattering.”
The sheriff and Riley joined together to remove the pilot and copilot from the cockpit. In zero-g, it was difficult to get any leverage, and before long, the sheriff had worked up a sweat and his helmet was fogged. “Take it easy, Sheriff,” Riley said. “You’ll bust a gut.”
“I’ve never liked it in space,” the sheriff confessed. “I feel like I’m always close to losing my cookies.”
“Just try to breathe.”
“I’m claustrophobic. This helmet seems to be getting smaller by the minute. I’m about this close to screaming.”
Riley put her helmet against his. “Look into my eyes, Sheriff. You’re fine and you’re going to stay fine. Tiger’s going to get us some air real soon. When we accelerate out of orbit, we’ll even have a little gravity for a while. Now help me with these fine young fellows who have gone to the angels. Please.”
The sheriff squeezed his eyes shut, then blinked a couple of times. He pushed his forehead forward to the helmet towel shelf to wipe the sweat from his brow. He looked at Riley, then nodded his thanks. Riley slapped the sheriff on his helmet and handed the pilot’s body off to him.
The Colonel was at the nav station, bringing up the console instruments. “Navigation seems to be working but communications are down,” he said.
Tiger floated back to look over the Colonel’s shoulder. “The comm dish is gone. I noticed that as I came over. There are short-range secondary systems but looks like they’re down too. Probably the interlink’s burned out. I can troubleshoot it.”
“How long will that take?” the Colonel asked.
“I can’t say. Some hours probably. I’ve got to get the environmental systems up first. The sensors all need calibrating after a hard shutdown. Also I need to check all the air lines and make sure they haven’t been compromised.”
“I need to communicate with L5,” the Colonel said. “Make that first priority.”
Tiger tapped on the keyboard and a document appeared on-screen. “This is the communications manual, about two thousand pages long.” He clicked on it. “There’s the troubleshooting section, only three hundred and ten pages long, including schematics. Look, Colonel, we can’t go anywhere until I get us air. If we have to, we can fix communications on the way.”
The Colonel thought it over, then conceded, “All right,” he said, “make the environmental system first priority, but I don’t want to wait until you fix it. I want to get going right away.”
Riley’s eyebrows shot up. “Head for deep space with no ship air, sir? We could run out of suit air and then what?”
The Colonel smiled a grim smile. “Then I guess we’d die, Riley. Did you think this was going to be an easy mission?”
“No, sir, but I didn’t think it was going to be suicidal.”
Afterward, the sheriff, his face tinged green, managed to seek out the Colonel for a quiet word. “I’m sick, sir,” the sheriff said, “but I can still take care of either one of these birds for you. Just give me the word.”
“It may come to that,” the Colonel quietly replied. “But we need them for now. Just be prepared.”
The sheriff patted the pistol on his hip. “You know I’m always prepared.”