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they re relocated. Credit them to the salvage.
Disturbed, Leo drifted over to the cargo workers.  What s this, kids?
 Oh, Mr. Graf, hello. Well, I m not quite sure, said the quaddie boy in the
canary-yellow T-shirt and shorts of Airsystems
Maintenance, of which Docks & Locks was a subdivision.  I don t think I ve
ever seen it before. It s massive, anyway. He paused to unhook a report panel
from his power-handler and gave it to Leo.  There s the freight manifest.
 It was supposed to be cargo-pusher fuel rods... The cylinders were about the
right size. They surely couldn t have redesigned them. Leo tapped the manifest
keypad - item, a string of code numbers, quantity, astronomical.
 They gurgle, the yellow-shirted quaddie added helpfully.
 Gurgle? Leo looked at the code number on the report panel more closely,
glanced at the grey cylinders - they matched. Yet he recognized the code for
the pusher rods - or did he? He entered  Fuel Rods, Orbital Cargo Pusher Type
II, cross ref, inventory code. The report panel blinked and a number popped
up. Yes, it was the same - no, by God! G77618PD, versus the G77681PD
emblazoned on the cylinders. Quickly he tapped in  G77681PD. There was a long
pause, not for the report panel but for Leo s brain to register.
 Gasoline? Leo croaked in disbelief. 
Gasoline?
Those idiots actually shipped a hundred tons of gasoline to a space station...
?
 What is it? asked the quaddie.
 Gasoline. It s a hydrocarbon fuel used downside, to power their land rovers.
A freebie by-product from the petrochemical cracking. Atmospheric oxygen
provides the oxidant. It s a bulky, toxic, volatile, flammable - explosive! -
liquid at room temperature. For God s sake don t let any of those barrels get
open.
 Yes, sir, promised the quaddie, clearly impressed with Leo s list of
hazards.
The legged supervisor of the orbital pusher crews arrived at that moment in
the bay, trailed by a gang of quaddies from his department.
 Oh, hello, Graf. Look, I think it was a mistake letting you talk me into
ordering this load - we re going to have a storage problem - 
 Did you order this? Leo demanded.
 What? the supervisor blinked, then took in the scene before him.  What the -
where are my fuel rods? They told me they were here.
 I mean did you, personally, place the order. With your own little fingers.
 Yes. You asked me to, remember?
 Well, Leo took a breath, and handed him the report panel,  you made a typo.
The super glanced at the report panel, and paled.  Oh, God.
 And they did it, Leo gibbered, running his hands through what was left of
his hair,  they filled it - I can t believe they filled it. Loaded all this
stuff onto the shuttle without once questioning it, sent a hundred tons of
gasoline to a space station without once noticing that it was utterly
absurd...
 I can believe it, sighed the super.  Oh, God. Oh, well. Well just have to
send it back, and reorder. It ll probably take about a week. It s not like our
fuel rod stocks are really low, in spite of the rate you ve been using them up
for that  special project you re so hushy-hush about.
I don t have a week, thought Leo frantically.
I have twenty-four hours, maybe.
 I don t have a week, Leo found himself raging.  I want them now.
Put it on a rush order. He lowered his voice, realizing he was becoming
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conspicuous.
The super was offended enough to overcome his guilt.  There s no need to throw
a fit, Graf. It was my mistake and I ll probably have to pay for it, but it s
plain stupid to charge my department for a rush shuttle trip on top of this
one when we can perfectly well wait. This is going to be bad enough as it is.
He waved at the gasoline.  Hey, kids, he added,  stop unloading!
This load s a mistake, it s all gotta go back downside.
The shuttle pilot was just exiting the personnel hatch in time to hear this.
 What? He floated over to them, and Leo gave him a brief explanation in very
short words of the error.
 Well, you can t send it back this trip, said the shuttle pilot firmly.  I m
not fueled up to take a full load. It ll have to wait.
He shoved off, to take his mandatory safety break in the cafeteria.
The quaddie cargo handlers looked quite reproachful, as the direction of their
work was reversed for the second time. But they limited their implied
criticism to a plaintive,  Are you sure now, sir?
 Yes, sighed Leo.  But find some place to store this stuff in a detached
module, you can t leave it in here.
 Yes, sir.
Leo turned again to the pusher crew supervisor.  I ve still got to have those
fuel rods.
 Well, you ll just have to wait. I won t do it. Van Atta s going to have
enough of my blood for this already.
 You can charge it to my special project. I ll sign for it.
The super raised his eyebrows, slightly consoled.  Well... I ll try, all
right, I ll try. But what about your blood?
Already sold, thought Leo.  That s my look-out, isn t it?
The super shrugged.  I guess. He exited, muttering. One of the pusher crew
quaddies, trailing him, gave Leo a significant look; Leo returned a severe
shake of his head, emphasized by a throat-cutting gesture with his index
finger, indicating, Silence.
He turned and nearly rammed Pramod, waiting patiently at his shoulder.  Don t
sneak up on me like that! he yelped, then got better control of his fraying
nerves.  Sorry, you startled me. What is it?
 We ve run into a problem, Leo.
 But of course. Who ever tracks me down to impart good news? Never mind. What
is it?
 Clamps.
 Clamps?
 There s a lot of clamped connections Outside. We were going over the flow
chart for the Habitat disassembly, for, um, tomorrow, you know - 
 I know, don t say it.
 We thought a little practice might speed things up - 
 Yes, good...
 Hardly any of the clamps will unclamp. Even with power tools.
 Uh... Leo paused, taken aback, then realized what the problem was.  Metal
clamps?
 Mostly.
 Worse on the sun side?
 Much worse. We couldn t get any of those to come at all. Some of them are
visibly fused. Some idiot must have welded them.
 Welded, yes. But not by some idiot. By the sun.
 Leo, it doesn t get that hot - 
 Not directly. What you re seeing is spontaneous vacuum diffusion welding.
Metal molecules are evaporating off the surfaces of the pieces in the vacuum.
Slowly, to be sure, but it s a measurable phenomenon. On the clamped areas
they migrate into their neighboring surfaces and eventually achieve quite a
nice bond. A little faster for the hot pieces on the sun side, a little slower
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