“But they're over two meters from the decks. I can't even reach the gunnery door,” one of the newer crew members complained from behind.
Stephanie walked to one of the turrets and looked at the deck below it. The controls weren't locked, so she knelt down, pressed the ready button and moved to the side as the gunner's seat smoothly deployed from the turret. It came to rest right in front of her so she could sit down and let the turret draw her inside. “If I can do it with no training, a five year old can do it by mistake.” She said as she tapped the control on the floor with her foot. “Bridge, please lock down all local turret controls. We're live up here.”
“Oh crap! Sorry! Locking it all down now Ma'am.” Came the voice of one of the new hires through her communicator. “I'm not used to having anyone up there, sorry ma'am.” He muttered.
The next hour was long. As her small crew of ten made their way across the deck, ensuring that anything dangerous was secure, two smaller groups were checking the berth below them. There were hundreds of bunks, and it took them half an hour to secure one section with four hundred inside and she knew they had rushed the job. There wasn't much they could do about it. They were critically undermanned and again, in a position to save lives.
As they went about their work she knew there were ships filled with people looking to be rescued. The upper hull of the Triton was mostly transparent, and as the light of the distant star reflected off drifting, damaged ships she couldn't help feel the urgency of her duties press down on her. Hearing the first section of the upper berth was cleared was a relief and seeing more people join their team from the hangars fifteen or more decks below was an even greater one.
At long last it was time to start taking on passengers. “Bridge; we're ready to take on the first group. Just tell me where they're docking.”
“Dorsal mooring three. We also have someone coming through airlock twelve C. We've been talking to him a bit, he's an engineer that's agreed to sign on to help us out,” Frost said.
“That's lucky.”
“Check your command unit for his credentials, lass. We've never been this lucky.”
She did so as her team ran across the deck towards mooring three. His profile listed him as Liam Grady, Engineering Doctorate in Starship design and Engineering Doctorate in Computing. 12 years military service, recent port of calclass="underline" Sol Lunar Station. “Holy hell! This guy's from Earth?”
“Not from what he was sayin', he's just coming back from retreat there. Might know something about how the ship works.”
“Did the Captain manage to snag him as permanent crew?”
“Aye, I'm sure he'll fill you in on the details. Didn't tell me much.” Frost said, sounding as though he were about to pout.
“I'm sure he didn't need you to consult on the trade, but if it makes you feel better I can always make sure you're in the room whenever Captain and I make a big decision.”
“Yer kiddin' right?”
“Yup.”
Frost chuckled. “Just when I think I'm gettin' on yer good side.”
She couldn't help but smile at the exchange as her and her team arrived below the mooring point. She looked at the pictorial directions on the deck and hoped she was reading them right as she pushed a panel open with her foot then tapped a button with her toe. A ramp extended out from the floor all the way up to the three meter wide airlock doors in the ceiling. Railings came up from the sides and after a moment it looked like the ramp had always been there.
“Wow, Earth tech is amazing. Nothing is just for one thing, every space has more than one purpose.” Liz, an energetic new hire who she had just met commented from behind her. “It makes the ship feel like it's twice it's size, as if it weren't big enough.” She was actually shorter than Stephanie, which was a hard thing to accomplish since she herself was only one hundred sixty one centimetres tall.
“They started this whole space travel thing, I'd hope they have it right by now,” another crew member commented.
“Okay, you two get to the bottom of the ramp and be ready to log ID's. Anyone without identification gets put off to the side until the end of each group. I need two more to scan for active weaponry. Take all their ammunition and keep it secure in a storage compartment, there should be a couple in the deck nearby. The rest will walk them to their berth. The teams below have been able to sweep them for explosives, weaponry, dangerous bacteria and other life, but they weren't exactly able to make the beds and sweep the floors. If anyone complains just tell them the TRF Peter will be here in two days. They can be picky about accommodations as much as they like with the rescue teams.”
Grace Templeton and two other crew members marked as medics arrived at a run, each with a full load of medical gear. “Reporting for duty, bring on the masses,” she said, leaning down on her knees and trying to catch her breath. “This place is huge.”
“Good to see you. I was just about to say something to the Captain.”
“We've been listening in on the chatter from medical. We only have three injured so far, considering the damage the Eden ships did we're lucky to have so few.”
“Have you ever done this kind of triage before?”
“Once. A trade convoy was attacked and I was sent along with a rescue vessel. This one is much better so far. Don't worry, I know what I'm doing.”
Thank God someone does. Stephanie thought to herself as she turned from Grace to look up through the transparent hull. Frost was doing a fantastic job of guiding the damaged space liner in with the tractor beams. It was four hundred meters long but thin. She had seen many of them before and knew that there could be as many as five thousand aboard. “They're not starting small,” she said to herself as she ran up the ramp leading to the mooring doors. One of her team followed and took a support position on the other side of the hatch.
The tunnel extended from the Triton and the star liner slowly drifted towards it at a pace of only a few centimetres a second. It slowed down to millimetres by the time it made contact and the mooring frame reported a full on lock with the ship.
Stephanie caught sight of a man in a vacsuit drifting towards an airlock only meters further down the hull. “Liz, go make sure he has a happy landing. I'd hate to see him come through the airlock only to free fall to the deck.”
She had one of the other team members replace her in identification duties and ran to where she thought the ramp or whatever receiving device that was provided for emergency airlocks might be and checked the instructions.
Stephanie checked the mooring lock and saw that it was still pressurizing and checking the seal.
Meanwhile, Liz had moved on to another spot on the floor, and with a satisfied nod, slid a panel to the side, pressed her foot down on a button and activated the retrieval system for the emergency airlock. It was a long, flexible tube that extended along a wire frame that came out of the floor so whoever was coming in through the smaller emergency airlock could slide down to the deck at a reasonable speed. Liz cheered for herself, throwing her arms up before stopping and checking to see if anyone noticed. Everyone had, a few chuckled, and she shrugged in response. “Getting new technology right on the first try is worth celebrating. Even with these instructions.”
“You're telling me,” Stephanie agreed.
The lone entrant came through the smaller emergency airlock and was visible only for a moment before he slid down the yellow tube, causing it to flex and warp. Liz stepped out of the way and the much taller, broad shouldered fellow arrived at the bottom, stopped by a thick pad on the deck. He rolled to his feet slowly and stood up in front of Liz, who looked absolutely tiny compared to the large human. “Thank you very much. I'm Liam,” he shook the young woman's hand.
“I'm Liz. I think you're wanted on the bridge if I heard the chatter right.”