Chapter 18: Who Rescues the Rescuers?

The Firespike's overworked environmental controls had chosen arrival at Spica II's space station as the perfect time to pack it in and take a nice long convalescence, and the engines were also evincing damage as a result of the two long flights at flank speed, to the wreck and then to Spica. Captain DiPaulo was less than impressed with his engineering staff, suggesting that they might have engaged in deliberate sabotage in a misguided attempt to force a shore leave so they could ogle naked girls planet-side.

The furious, overworked, exhausted (and subsequently short-tempered) engineering officer responded heatedly, "This ship is older than dirt, the EC unit is original equipment. It's had it. It should have been replaced two voyages ago, it can't handle much more than maybe half again the ship's complement. Well, it's got to be replaced now. It's completely gone. The engines we can do an overhaul with the parts on board, but not the EC unit." She glowered at her captain.

"Alternatives?" the captain growled.

"One, we violate the regs and live on tanked air. Spica's Orbital Guard can ship over enough tanks to last until we get back home, and we can probably sweet-talk them out of CO2 scrubbers, we've broken into our emergency supply and that leaves us with nothing in the lifeboats if we need to evacuate the ship. Two, we transfer everyone planet-side and get a replacement environmental control unit from Solaria. Assuming they're even made anymore."

"Number One?" He turned to his executive officer.

"Regs say in this situation, if we have a friendly planet, we should transfer all but the repair crew. It's not wartime. We're in orbit around if not an ally, at least a friendly neutral. If we try to head back with all of our air in tanks, all of our lifeboat CO2 scrubbers in use instead of in the lifeboats, no EC unit whatsoever, and our engines barely functional, Fleet Command will see this as endangering crew lives unnecessarily." He reflected unhappily, "So will many of the crew."

Captain DiPaulo nodded miserably. "So will I." He then turned to his medic.

"What about you? You and Boats were the only two on board to be over there. How much trouble do you think it will be?"

Jane pondered, recalling the information she had looked up. "It's a planet that is fiercely proud of its naturist traditions, and of its neutrality. If we have an incident, it could get real sticky real quick. Every crewman, from captain to lowest ranking seaman, will have to be buck, and we'll have to avoid any diplomatic incidents, like fighting with the locals or trying to get a little too frisky." She blushed, remembering the dignified silver-haired doctor she'd encountered. "Yes, I was exposed to them — pun not intended — but that's about it. We should talk to our embassy, they should be able to help us."

Captain DiPaulo pondered the options, neither of them palatable. He thumbed a button on his desk. "Sparks? Send a message to Solaria Fleet Command." He detailed the options he'd just discussed with his officers. "Tell them I don't like it, but I recommend transferring all but absolutely essential engineering staff planet-side until repairs are made. Oh, and Sparks? Not a word to anyone. I'll announce it to the crew IF we're going planet-side."

Jane groaned. "Now I know what that woman was feeling when she refused to go over to the station," she muttered. The laughter around the table was tinged with nervousness.

It was late at night when Admiral Conrad Helfrich met with Minister of Defence Roger Chen, and urgently briefed him of the emergency on board the Firespike. The Minister, realizing the emergency affected Foreign Affairs as much as his department, decided to "Talk to TK." He immediately dialled up TK's PDA.

"I'm in the pool with the President," he advised. "Meet us here — no point in us wasting time getting showered and dressed first."

"That makes sense, see you shortly." Roger turned to the Admiral. "Bet they're both naked. That'll give them just enough time to grab their swimsuits." The Admiral would have smiled, but was too worried about the crew of the Firespike.

The two men hurriedly wended their way through the maze of corridors leading to the pool room, knocking on the door. Lucy's voice bade them enter. The sight which met their eyes was startling, to say the least — three naked bodies. Lucy and TK were draping their towels over their chairs, the lifeguard was looking at Lucy questioningly.

"She's actually part of my security detail," advised TK of the lifeguard. "She has a full security rating."

"It doesn't really matter that much. I don't think we have any realistic choices, and it'll be all over the news within a couple of hours tops, anyway." Roger turned to Admiral Helfrich. "Tell them."

He did.

"So, they can take a big safety risk by trying to get back here with a wonky environmental unit being held together with spit and bailing wire and a main engine ready to quit at any moment, or they can take a big social risk of evacuating to a friendly, environmentally-benign planet where they'll have to run around in their birthday suits. Have I got this right?" Lucy quizzed. TK's lips quivered under his walrus moustache, but he managed to keep his composure.

"Yes, Sir."

"How long until repairs can be completed?"

"A week, possibly two. We don't know if we've got the parts they need — they may need to be machined. The Firespike is an old ship."

"So that would be two weeks in the nude for most of the crew."

"We could send the Lister..." Roger started.

"No," the Admiral interrupted, "it's already been re-tasked to assist a natural disaster on the main planet of HD 17156. Besides, it's becoming known throughout the fleet as the Nude Ship for the number of times it's been there."

"So we leave some twenty-six crew, less repair crew, in their birthday suits for two weeks?" Lucy asked, suspiciously innocently.

"Yes, Sir," responded the Admiral cautiously.

"Been there," noted TK.

"Done that," added Lucy.

"Don't have the T-shirt, though," TK observed. "Don't think they have any T-shirts."

Lucy turned to the Admiral. "I can tell you from personal experience that they'll be fine. I'd rather not risk a crew go into space with an environmental unit and engines that would prefer to pack it in whenever they choose to. They'll probably choose the least convenient time to do so. Send them planet-side. TK, have a message forwarded to the Embassy as soon as possible, have them book some rooms in some hotel somewhere and get every crew member a bed and a bottle of sunblock. Admiral, remind your Captain that his crew is going to be nude 24 hours a day until the ship gets fixed. Don't pack a single piece of clothing, leave it all on board the Firespike."

"Yes, Sir." The Admiral was grim. Just what kind of image would his crew project, being buck-naked for two weeks?

"Admiral," TK advised, "tell them to pack one towel and their toilet kits. Nothing else is needed."

Admiral Helfrich reflected glumly that his fleet was rapidly becoming known throughout the galaxy as the Nude Navy.

On board SFS Firespike, the news went off like a bomb. The ship's public address system whistled an "All hands!"

Captain DiPaulo looked at the handset with distaste, as if it were covered in nails. No point in putting it off, he decided. "All hands, this is the Captain. Um, as you know, we have had serious mechanical problems, especially with our environmental systems. The decision has been made to go into dockyard availability, starting immediately." There were cheers from that. Shore leave. "The availability will be here, on Spica II." He took a breath in. "As many of you already know, Spica II society is naturist. Yes, we will be nude." He cleared his throat, which was quite dry for some reason. "All of us."

Around the ship, various faces, mostly but not exclusively female, paled. Some of the younger male crewmen glanced around, sizing up the probability of seeing their female counterparts in the nude.

On the bridge, as one of the communications ratings goggled in slack-jawed horror her compatriot broke out into a grin. His grin vanished instantly as he took one look at her and realized, "Oh, not all of us are naturist..."

The captain caught the exchange. Shutting the mike off, he hovered close to the male communications rating's ear and whispered, "And you are? A naturist, I mean?"

"Yes, Sir," the rating responded in the same whisper. He would rather have not responded at all, as it was not germane to his duties and most of his shipmates would not have understood, but shortly they would be getting an intensive lesson in the philosophy of naturism.

Captain DiPaulo raised an eyebrow. "You've been to nudist colonies, Mr, ah..."

"Richardson, Sir. They're resorts, not colonies. Often. My parents are naturists too. I was raised that way."

"Ah. Any new naturists you've met, how long has it taken them to adapt to social nudity?"

"I'd say about 20 minutes, Sir. Maybe less."

"I'm going to repeat the question, and I'd like you to repeat your answer good and loud." He raised the microphone to his lips. "A quick word of advice from someone who has been to naturist resorts before. How long does it take for a newbie to adapt to social nudity?" He held the microphone in front of Richardson's mouth.

"About 20 minutes, Sir. Usually less."

Captain DiPaulo took the microphone back. "Officers, meeting in the wardroom in five minutes." He turned to Radioman Second Class Richardson and added an aside, "You too." His head flashed back to the microphone. "Sparks, set up the comm link so that the entire ship can listen in. Any other naturists I don't know about on board, report to the wardroom on the double."

In the wardroom, the Captain started the meeting off with a request for an update on the Environmental Control system. The ship's engineer was not sanguine, and blunt in her assessment. "Barely functional. I anticipate the temporary repairs will fail within the next four hours. Then we'll be on tanked Oh-Two. We're already operating the lifeboat cee-oh-two scrubbers, they're not keeping up. The carbon dioxide levels are rising, and even if the ECS doesn't pack it in, within six hours we'll start losing consciousness. We'll be suffering the effects of hypoxia hours before that, most seriously loss of memory, judgement and co-ordination. We cannot make it back to Solaria in our current condition." Around the ship, the whispered conversations ceased as the seriousness of the situation sank in.