setting up the next boost. Buccari glided onto the flight deck. Her features were drawn and fatigued, but she favored him with a supernova smile, green eyes glinting in the white light of sunrise.
"Thanks for picking me up. Sorry about the short orbit," she said.
"Welcome back. Let's just say we appreciate your effort," Quinn replied. "And besides, we didn't have anything else to do."
She floated to her station, replaced her helmet, and plugged her umbilicals into the console. "Where are you?"
Quinn brought her up to speed, and she was immediately absorbed in the flight deck situation. Orbital decay was past critical. Quinn was constantly maneuvering the wallowing craft. Air temperatures in the corvette had risen uncomfortably.
"Phew, I thought it looked bad before!" Buccari said, checking the instruments. "This power plant is really chewed up. Virgil, whatever did you do to these engines?"
"Begging the lieutenant's pardon, but we used 'em to come get you," Rhodes came back over the intercom.
"Well, I guess they look fine then," Buccari replied.
Quinn laughed. He was excited, for good reason. They were going to pull it off. A short boost to a safe orbit, refuel the lander, and they could all safely return to the planet.
"Okay, stand by for boost. Twenty seconds at two gees," Quinn said.
"Ready here," Buccari said.
"Engineering, aye," Rhodes reported.
"Two lousy gees, baby. You can do it," Quinn exhorted aloud as he rechecked throttle settings. "Counting down... three... two... one and ignition now!"
The engines exploded into life—
—and stopped! Fuel pumps and compression turbines normally masked by engine tumult wound down with plaintive screams. A resounding thump resonated through the ship, more metallic banging, and then silence. Warning lights glared and flickered obscenely.
Buccari and Quinn turned to each other.
"Rhodes, start pumping fuel into the apple!" Quinn shouted.
* * *
Buccari was unstrapped before Quinn started talking. She propelled herself into the hatchway and through the crew area to the lander bay, retracing her path of only minutes before. Rhodes came through on her heels and took over refueling. Buccari jackknifed into the lander and started preflight checks, feeling as if she had spent her entire life in the confined cockpit. The corvette danced, pitching and yawing with increasing amplitudes.
"We're losing it!" Quinn shouted over the intercom. "How long?"
Buccari noted the fuel gages registering, but only a minuscule increase. She did a mental calculation and checked their position relative to the desired landing site.
"We have three considerations," she responded. "One is just getting out of orbit without burning up or running out of oxygen. Two is having enough fuel to do a soft landing—apples aren't famous for belly landings. And three, landing near our people—it's a big planet. We could land and never see the crew again."
"I got the picture! How much time?" Quinn shouted.
"At least ten minutes to get fuel for a controlled deorbit. I don't know where we'll crash, but at least we'll leave orbit without running out of air. It'll take at least twenty minutes to get enough fuel for a controlled landing. Could be over an ocean," Buccari replied calmly. "It will take almost forty minutes to get the fuel we need, to land where we want to, and expect to walk away, and that depends on when and where we leave orbit. Anything after that's gravy. Virgil, do you agree?"
"Roger, Lieutenant. Close enough for me," Rhodes replied.
* * *
Quinn fought the monster, not surprised by Buccari's summary. Falling out of orbit was the least of his concerns—he fought the jerking and flailing ship. Forty minutes raced slowly by. Quinn made up his mind.
"Enough fuel," he commanded. He struggled to stay ahead of the excursions. "Get your butts in the lander. Sharl, deploy the apple when Rhodes gets inside. I'm staying. You can't launch the lander without someone stabilizing the corvette."
No response was forthcoming. Precious moments elapsed. "Rhodes, Buccari, you copy? I want both of you in that lander now!"
Still nothing. Quinn caught a movement behind him. He turned to see Buccari and Rhodes floating on the flight deck, arms crossed on their chests. Buccari pointed to her helmet in the vicinity of her ears and gave a thumbs-down. Rhodes did the same.
"There's no time for this," Quinn groaned.
"Nice try, Commander, but we're not leaving without you," Buccari said. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself...sir."
"Buccari, dammit! I gave you an order!" Quinn was angry and thankful at the same time, a tough combination to deal with. "None of us is going to get out of here if I don't hold the ship steady.