BtH101

==Chapter 101 - By the Horns==
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TCJS Patrick Flannagan
Zenith Jump Point, GKV-2198
Unknown Space
July 17th, 3026
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". . . and medical has administered the test for the virus to all members of the crew—twice, Sir," the Bosun reported. "Not one positive result."
Thank god, Aramis thought to himself as he released the lungful of air he had unconsciously drawn and held. "Good. Captain Walsh is jumping Group B to join us here at the Zenith Point tomorrow . . . with the additional ships, supplies, and crews, how is that going to help with the salvage effort?"
"We ain't gonna salvage much, Sir," the Bosun said in a sour voice. "Every last of those derelicts has blown helium seals—I figure that fatigue and a lack of maintenance caused them all to fail. None of those ships have any liquid helium left in their cooling tanks. Now," and he shrugged, "since the drives were dead cold when that happened, there shouldn't be any permanent damage, but replacing the seals and liquid helium will take time. And we don't have a lot of either of those particular spares aboard the flotilla. Sir."
Aramis frowned. Actually, they did. Each JumpShip in the flotilla carried two full sets of replacement seals and enough liquid helium tankage to refill the cooling system twice. But . . . he couldn't use all of those spares in case one of his ships lost their own seals on the way home. No, he had to keep a reserve—just how much of a reserve was the question at hand.
He shook his head. "Talk to me, Bosun," he ordered, asking the more experienced spacer for advice.
"The boys down in engineering—and on the other ships—want to concentrate on getting six of those Merchants out there up and running. Not a bad idea—we've got six Merchants in the flotilla ourselves and doing that will leave plenty of spare seals and helium for the voyage home. But, I think we should instead grab four of those Liberty class floating out there. It'll cost us about the same amount of supplies as the six Merchants, but require less crew to man—and gives us four more docking collars."
"Not any of the Leviathans?" Aramis asked.
The Bosun shook his head. "Those things require a lot of helium, boss. We could get one and two Liberty class, but that would cut our reserve stockpile to right at the bare minimum. Those Compact Core ships? The Aquilas and the WarShips? They require three times as much helium tankage as a JumpShip of the same tonnage would. They are all—including that St. Helens—way over what we can afford to spare. If we want to make certain everyone in the Flotilla comes home."
Damn, Aramis thought to himself again and then he nodded his head. "Okay. When Walsh gets here with Group B, let's concentrate on picking out four of the Liberty class that are in the best condition—and tell medical that we will continue daily blood draws and screening to make damn sure that the virus doesn't get aboard. That includes full decontamination procedures for any personnel going aboard those ships."
"Heard and understood, boss," the Bosun answered. "But we really need to consider what those sixteen collars are gonna be hauling back home, Sir."
Aramis sat back. From the reports he had already read, each and every one of those DropShips was loaded down with cargo that the Concordat—and its member worlds—desperately needed. But the Bosun obviously had some ideas that differed from his own.
"Go ahead, Bosun, talk to me."
"They've got a pair of Snowden Mining Stations over there, boss," he said with a smile. "Fully stocked and ready to be put back into service."
Aramis sat up straight. "The original Snowden? The one with the K/F booms?" And Aramis began to smile.
"Yes, Sir, Commodore, Sir. That derelict fleet has a modular space station—which includes a shipyard module large enough to accommodate a Wagon Wheel or any smaller WarShip or JumpShip. It is small, compared to an Olympus, but the damn thing still takes up six collars. I think we need to bring that one back, too."
"Why the hell didn't you tell me you found those earlier?" Aramis snapped.
"Just got the report on them a few minutes before I reported here to your day cabin, Sir," the Bosun answered with a chuckle.
Aramis shook his head. "You have a low and mean sense of humor, Bosun."
"I try, Sir. I do try."
Aramis snorted. "That is eight collars—eight left. Any ideas on those?"
"Yes, Sir. The Winchester is carrying two Legionnaires—the Wagon Wheel has another two. Both are fully loaded. That is two battalions of 'Mechs with attached aerospace fighters—battalions with four companies each. The Protector will have an orgasm if we bring him those four droppers back."
"Part of the Red Hand?"
"No, sir. According to the manifest, they were part of the Concordat Chasseurs and Concordat Velites—two battalions each with forty-eight of the second generation Talos and eight Skyhawks Aerospace Fighters."
"Well, bringing ninety-six 'Mechs and sixteen ASF home—plus the rest, plus the information on where the remainder of the Exiles Fleet is located—ought to please the Protector something fierce. The last four collars?"
The Bosun shrugged. "Pick a Jumbo—any I. There are almost a hundred of those damned things over there and all loaded down with supplies for a colonial expedition."
"Okay. Sounds like a plan. Pick me out a quartet of I and the four Liberty class JumpShips that are in the best condition—and then we are going to get to work on moving those modules and DropShips. And when we are done, we are all going home."
With a few golden nuggets in hand and information on where to find the whole damned motherlode, Aramis thought with a smile.
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