Free Acid Sky by Mark Anson Page B

were the controls for the reactors and the refineries, and the other systems on board, like the electrical system, plumbing and waste, and atmospheric maintenance. Technicians sat at consoles, occasionally glancing up at the situation display that filled one of the walls.
    Clare could see Neale, the engineering chief, standing over one of the consoles, talking to one of his staff. Presently he looked up and saw them, and beckoned them over.
    ‘Morning to you both,’ he said, and then to Clare: ‘How are you feeling?’
    ‘Fine sir, but I’m getting a little tired now.’
    ‘Ah yes, well that’s to be expected. Take it from an old hand – don’t push it. Get some sleep this afternoon, and you’ll be fine for tomorrow. So, welcome to engineering. What can I show you?’
    Clare glanced round, wondering what to say. ‘Can you show us where you control the engines?’
    ‘Sure.’ They followed him over to where a technician sat at a console showing the status of the engines and their nuclear reactors. He pointed out the displays. ‘Four engines, four separate reactors. Triplicated control systems, plus there’s a shielded maintenance duct for each engine if we ever need to control them manually. Each engine provides thrust to keep us flying, electrical power for all our systems, and compressed air for the refineries. Fuelled for ten years’ service, minimum. Enough power for a medium-sized town.’ He patted the console.
    ‘Incoming landing, sir,’ another technician shouted across the room.
    ‘Ah, you’ll want to see this.’ Neale walked to the rear of the room and faced the sweep of windows. He pointed out the bright stars of the landing lights on an incoming Frigate. Clare watched, fascinated, as it closed in on the Langley , growing larger with each moment, until it was so close that she could make out the flight crew behind the cockpit windows. It seemed to be heading directly for them, and she fought the urge to duck, then at the last moment the Frigate thundered overhead and slammed into the flight deck with a muffled boom .
    ‘Another one safely back on board,’ Neale commented. ‘I guess you’ll be trying that yourself tomorrow, Foster.’
    ‘I hope so, sir.’
    ‘Stay as long as you like. My team will be happy to answer any of your questions.’
    ‘Thank you sir, but I’m thinking of taking your advice about getting some more rest.’
    ‘Very sensible. Well, see you later, lieutenant.’
    Clare and Coombes thanked Neale and took their leave. Outside the engineering room, Clare asked Coombes: ‘Is that where that pilot crashed into earlier this year? The ramp above that room?’
    ‘Yes. Yes, I’m afraid it was.’
    ‘Can you tell me what happened?’
    ‘Yes. Well, we won’t know for sure until the official investigation report’s been published, but it looks like it was pilot error – she came in fine, but at the last moment, she dropped low, didn’t put on enough power, and smashed into the ramp. Her Frigate slid off the deck, and went straight down.’ He shook his head. ‘That’s about all we know. There’s loads of data, but the investigation team took all of that.’
    Clare thought about it. Slid off the deck, and went straight down. Down into the atmosphere, with no chance of any rescue. Deeper and deeper, and every moment the pressure rose around you. Maybe there would be a few creaking, cracking noises, maybe a few moments of terror – then suddenly the hull would rupture and collapse, crushing you to pulp. Maybe she wasn’t alive when it happened. Maybe.
    Always go around if you’re not established on final, Shaffer had said last night. She hoped she’d remember his words, and shivered involuntarily.
    ‘You okay?’
    She smiled weakly. ‘You know, I wasn’t kidding back there. I feel done in.’
    ‘That’s a pity. I was going to show you the hydroponics farm – you were saying last night that you’d like to see it.’
    ‘And I would, but can it be another