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And idly, out of the corner of what few of the Magellan’s cameras remain operable, you can make out a pair of workers scrambling to repair the communications array.
An hour passes. As the last bolt goes into the foundation of the crane, you step back as Holt shouts: “Connecting the crane to the reactor. Standby…striking!”
There’s an audible click, then a sudden whine as the gyro seizes, and the cable shudders within its spooling. Up in the control room, the operator tentatively works the crane, twisting, lowering and gyrating in as much locomotion as it can allow…
“Load-bearing?” the chief shouts.
At her prompt, her subordinates push a pallet of crates beneath the boom as the operator lowers a length of cable. They attach the hook, tighten ratchet straps, and throw stabilizing lines, no differently than they would to cargo, a submarine, or a PUEXO. Then they all run back, holding their breath as the cable tightens, and the crane groans…
“Confirming good lift!” the operator shouts, and the crew lets out a ragged cheer.
“Not bad for MacGyvering it,” quips HOPI. “Although I wouldn’t rely on it for too long without going back to drydock.”
God willing, it only needs to fish two things out of the water. And then, with the reactor back online and the engines purring against the choppy ocean, it’s back to Babylonia.
>>Line Break…
The Mackerel is the first to come back up. As the hatch pops, medics and crewmates rush to get her crew out. One of them, the pilot, suffered a concussion the nuke went off, and has to be lifted via stretcher to medical. The other two, an engineer and a mechanic, are welcomed back with raucous cheers, a pair of oxygen tanks, and personal commendations from Geary.
“Get some rest, all of you,” the XO orders, not unkindly. A bandage wraps down the side of his head, and around his midsection. “Sawbones has already cleared you for hyperbaric treatment if the need arises.”
The submariners nod, and wobblily salute a stern-faced, but sympathetic Elishani. But just before they disappear below deck…
“Razor…”
They clasp your hands, and shake them vigorously.
“Thank you.”
<span class="mu-i">“Sinleq…thank you…”</span>
You cough, nodding politely as you fight off the urge to blush. You really never got used to this kind of heartfelt compliments or thanks. “You’re welcome.”
Gully and her Caprica are the last to come up. The instant that her PUEXO makes contact with the ship, Geary gives the order to get underway.
“Let’s get out of here,” the XO says.
Holt doesn’t look too certain. “Uh, sir? Hate to be a bother, but the Caprica’s missin’ arm-”
“Is either scattered across the floor, or utterly destroyed in the blast,” interjects Elishani, stone-faced and frosty. “We don’t have either the time or the manpower to go looking for it.”
(cont.)
