Atk. Butterfly: Rust Bucket

We lifted off three days later. Regardless of what I thought of the Thurman, or ‘Rust Bucket’ as it was called by everyone, its engines had kick. We zipped up into orbit, with more vitality than I thought the Rust Bucket had in her, and checked ourselves out. Considering the gravity of the planet we were on, I realized that the interplanetary engines must be a heck of a lot better than I realized. They were. In fact, they were even better than I suspected from our lift off.

I wasn’t worried about the FTL engines. FTL, of course, meant faster than light. That was a necessity for flight between star systems. However, the FTL engines couldn’t be used safely for lift-off or interplanetary flight where there were too many objects to run into, not to mention the heavy traffic on the trade routes. During the time we would be between star systems, we and the freighters would be safe since no one could fight yet at those speeds. No one could even find anyone else moving at those speeds. If someone did happen to catch a glimpse, it was just that, only a glimpse. Whoever you saw would be too far away before you could react, even with computer assistance. It didn’t do any good to shoot at anyone then since their ship’s speed was much greater than anything fired at them.

It was inside the star systems where the interplanetary engines were important. They were absolutely vital if we were to be able to maneuver and defend the freighters we were escorting. At interplanetary speeds, it was very possible to see, aim, and fire at each other.

One of the first things we did during our orbital checkouts was to test fire the weapons. For that, I had to report to my gunnery station. Before we even fired the first shot, we practiced reaching our gun stations over and over again from the most inaccessible portions of the ship that could be arranged by the First Officer. He gave us places to go and waited until we were there. Then he sounded battle stations and expected us to be in our stations within seconds. I think I must have practiced getting to my gun station from at least five different places about the ship. Each of those I must have done about four or five times apiece.

Then we finally went to target practice. Just to make that harder, we had to go through the battle stations drill again for each shot. We were expected to not only race to our stations, but to line up the right target and get in a shot. That was somewhat different from the Navy. There, battle stations meant getting to one’s position. No one fired until the order was given. On our ship, battle stations wasn’t ordered unless we intended to fight. We weren’t in the position of being in a fleet where we could fire from strength. We were firing to get in the first shot and make it count, because every return hit on us made us that much weaker. Our only chance of survival rested in getting in the first and last shots of any battle. If we were to simply report to our gun stations, then the order was simply “man your battle stations.”

Anyway, I wasn’t aware of the firepower of some of the weapons on board the Thurman. In space, the impact that some weapons have isn’t felt in the ship when they’re fired. The targets, put out by another ship for us, didn’t give evidence of what was used on them either. What I saw through my monitor and view port didn’t give me any knowledge of what else the Thurman carried. Had I been watching from outside or from some other ship, I would have been impressed with what the ship carried, which wasn’t immediately visible until various plates slid out of the way. The rust was more of a disguise than an indicator of the ship’s condition.

Shortly after our drills and target practice, we departed orbit and met up with the company ships that we were escorting. Then and only then did we learn where our destination would be and what we were guarding, if it was hazardous enough that we needed to know. We were going to planet Adriena with a cargo of toxic chemicals. That meant that we would give the cargo ships a wide berth. We would avoid scorching them with our engines if we had to maneuver in order to protect them.

Chemicals were a favorite target of pirates and unscrupulous shipping companies who didn’t mind stealing when they couldn’t get cargoes of their own to haul for a fee. Not only that, but in such cases, they usually stole the ship as well, leaving the crew to drift about space in their suits or a life capsule. Most of them weren’t foolish enough to kill the crews and make them that much more desperate to fight against the seizures. For that reason, the companies had to have gun ships to escort their important cargoes. Fortunately, the pirates that existed were few and far between. However, the companies that would steal travelled the same shipping lanes. Just our gun ship’s presence would keep the other companies honest, though. Pirates, if encountered, would actually have to be fought.

We were out four days on a six-day run escorting the freighters when we had our first action. I was in the laundry cleaning my second set of clothes, standard mesh undies and overslicks. The mesh underwear mostly kept the overslicks from sticking to our skin so that it could breathe and perspire properly. The overslicks insulated us against sudden changes in temperature and prevented us from snagging equipment and switches.

The drills paid off as “battle stations” was announced. We scurried to our assigned gun stations and fired at the oncoming pirate. We scored a few hits and drove him off before he could do anything to us or our convoy of ships. It wasn’t as easy as during the drills, even though the drills were practiced with the ship performing evasive maneuvers, because the target was performing them as well. In practice, the targets were stationary. Regardless, from that one encounter, I could tell that the Thurman was more than a mere rust bucket. The ship was very much alive and able to lash out with enough punch to deal with the pirates. My initial impressions dissolved to be replaced with a pride in the ship I was assigned to.

We stayed on Adriena for a week to pick up cargo so that the freighters wouldn’t be returning home empty and earning no credits. The return trip was much less eventful since the freighters carried back less valuable cargo.

When I got back to planet Beulah, I discovered a bonus in my paycheck because the combat videos disclosed that my gun station made two hits on the pirate. I was already appreciative of what Sarge had done for me. He’d gotten me into space in a job where I mattered. Oh, I know, I was still responsible for recycling, but someone’s got to do it or we’d all be living in filth and disease while out in space. Besides, having that position entitled me to extra shower time.

Probably showering was the only thing I had to get used to in the Thurman. The shower was a sealed and scheduled room. That meant that whoever was assigned to take a shower had to take it then with whoever else was assigned. Unlike the Navy, we had a whole lot of women on board and not just a few. Fully over a third of the crew was female. Being entitled to a double shower allowance each day because of my job, it was almost inevitable that I would have to share one of my scheduled showers with a woman.

If I hadn’t acquired such an aroma that I didn’t need one of my showers, I could have possibly skipped that one since I wasn’t used to taking a shower with a woman. Needless to say, the first shower was difficult for me because of my initial embarrassment. However, she and I did our best to ignore each other and get our showers taken. Then we left the shower after the dryers pulled all the water back from the enclosed room to dress ourselves in our mesh undies and then our overslicks. By the third day, I was quite used to seeing and showering with Wellesley so that I no longer felt embarrassed. I wasn’t sure how she felt about it though. She never said a word.