by David Smith
She sprang out of bed and immediately pulled out her ‘special- operations suit’, a close fitting black neoprene one-piece outfit not unlike a divers suit that she’d had specially made. Light, flexible, insulated and waterproof, it was essential safety equipment for any plumbing mission in the Deck 6 toilets.
She dressed quickly and slipped down the corridor like a black ghost. The door into the toilet compartment opened with a quiet swish, and Tang edged forward to sneak a peek inside.
Like everything else in the toilet compartment the lights were temperamental at best, and while some had come on, most had not. A few flickered on and off intermittently, adding an eerie stroboscopic effect to the deserted compartment.
Tang took stock. The scene was unnervingly peaceful. All three toilet cubicle doors were fully open, as were the two doors into the shower compartments and the men’s urinals. The taps over the sinks were all silent and drip-free and the hand-driers were inactive.
From the way various objects within the compartment lay, her trained eye could tell that the artificial gravity in the compartment seemed to be on line. The compartment was still dry, and the rumbling of the pipework had subsided from an angry banging to a gentle groan. She was safe enough for the minute.
She stepped inside and gasped in horror as she realised that the access to the service duct behind the toilet cubicles was open. Someone was risking life and limb by working on the toilets alone!
Her mind raced. None of the other engineers would dare risk it. They knew the dangers that faced the unwary. But it had to be an engineer: no-one else knew the command code to open the access hatch to the service duct?
The service duct itself represented relatively safe ground. Steeling herself she pulled down her full-face respirator and tightened its straps. Ready now, she sprinted across the open terrain between door and service duct, keeping as much distance as she could between herself and the toilet pans.
Even in her specially adapted ultra-lightweight high-grip safety footwear she could sense how treacherous the deck was underfoot and she breathed a sigh of relief as she reached the entrance to the service duct without incident.
Like the lights in the main compartment, most of the limited lighting in the service duct had failed too. She risked lifting her respirator for a moment and called out into the flickering darkness ‘Hello? Who’s in there?’
From the end cistern space came a muffled reply. ‘Hey, it’s only me.’
Tang cursed under her breath. Of course! Amy Lo, the newbie. Only a newb would be stupid enough to tackle the toilets unassisted. ‘Ok, Lo, hold your position; I’m coming to get you.’
‘What?!’
Tang cursed the newb’s lack of experience. ‘I said hold your position! I’ll come in and get you out.’
Lo clearly didn’t understand. ‘I’m only replacing the ball-cock. Give me two minutes and I’ll be out anyway.’
Tang felt her blood run cold. Lo had disturbed one of the water systems, exposing them both to all manner of lethal hazards. Trying to remain calm, Tang spoke slowly and clearly. ‘Listen carefully, Lo. We’re both in great danger. Stop whatever you’re doing and back away from the pipework without touching anything else.’
‘What??’
‘I said stop whatever you’re doing. We’re both in great danger.’
‘But I’m only changing a damned ball-cock! What on earth . . . ‘
Tang froze as she recognised the implication of Lo’s words ‘Did you activate the flush??’
‘What?’
‘The flush! Did you flush the lavatory?’ asked Tang urgently.
‘Well of course I did! Or at least I tried. It didn’t work. That’s why I’m changing the ball-cock’ said Lo irritably.
Tang felt her stomach tie itself in knots. Lo had disturbed the water system. They were in trouble. The only question in her mind now was how much trouble.
Lo climbed out of the cistern space and raised an eyebrow as she saw Tang. ‘Going scuba diving?’
Tang knew that Lo wouldn’t understand but tried to help her colleague. ‘I’ve got a spare suit. If you stay here I’ll go get it and bring it for you . . . ‘
Lo looked horrified. ‘You want me to dress up like a fetish porn-star??’
Tang rolled her eyes. She couldn’t expect a newb to understand. But at the same time, she couldn’t willingly let Lo find out the hard way. ‘Lo you’ve disturbed a pressure system, it’s just a matter of time before something somewhere in here goes bang.’
Lo reached her and pushed past her. ‘For god’s sake Tang it’s just a toilet.’
Before Tang could stop her, Lo stepped out of the service duct. Tang flinched, but nothing happened and Lo shook her head sadly as she headed across the compartment and around the toilet cubicles.
For just a second, Tang breathed a sigh of relief, but then she realised what Lo was about to do. She threw herself out of the service duct and shouted ‘DON’T TOUCH . . . ‘
It was too late. Lo casually pressed the flush control. After the slightest of hesitations, there came an ominous rumble and a sudden insistent hammering sound.
Tang knew exactly what was about to happen and screamed ‘INCOMING!!’ before throwing herself backwards into the service duct.
Lo looked around, perplexed, but that look was replaced with one of terror as the sewage system finally fought-back.
The sewage system on any starship was carefully designed to operate under the most extreme of conditions. If the ship’s artificial gravity or inertia-damper systems failed there were safety devices to make sure whatever had been put into the sewage system stayed where it was put.
On Tiger, those devices were legendarily temperamental. The sewage pipework that Zhet Zhoi had managed to overload flowed all the way down to the main sullage holding tank on Deck 23 at the very bottom of the ship. There were numerous other tanks and holding points along the way, served by a complex system of pumps and valves.
However, the fact that just one pump, hidden in the depths of the system, and its attendant valve were connected in reverse, meant that the whole system had become pressurised. As Lo pressed the flush, valves that should have opened to allow waste to flow downward instead allowed a torrent of highly-pressurised sewage to blast upward.
Hundreds of kilos of excrement liquefied by thousands of litres of urine and dirty water erupted from the toilet pan with the force of a fire-hose. It hit the low deck-head and splattered off it like a brown thunderstorm, saturating Lo with the bodily waste of a hundred of her crewmates.
She screamed as the vile slurry hit her, then instantly regretted opening her mouth as it filled with unspeakable filth.
The physical mass of the slurry dented the deck-head panels and forced Lo backwards towards the sinks opposite the toilet cubicles. Pre-programmed to provide soap and water appropriate to whatever was put in the sinks, the taps went into over-drive, blasting out as much hot water and soap as they possibly could.
Lo stumbled backward throwing her hands out to steady herself. As she did, she put her left hand straight under a tap spraying out scalding hot water. She screamed and pulled her hand away, but as she did she slipped on the slurry-covered deck. She fell forward, towards the sinks again and threw her hands out to steady herself.
Her right hand caught the electric hand-drier above the sink and her weight was enough to shear the three old, small and badly corroded screws that held it in place. It pulled away from the wall with a clatter, trailing a loop of electrical flex, that pulled taut then broke free, exposing the live ends.
Amy’s wet, flailing hands, seeking anything to arrest her fall, caught the bare ends of the flex, and her muscles spasmed, grabbing hold of the live conductor firmly.
Amy shrieked and shook helplessly as the voltage passed through her body and saturated clothes down to the deck. The ancient protective devices failed to operate in their designed manner and eventually failed themselves. The resulting surge of current blasted her free of the fl
ex in a shower of sparks, throwing her back towards the toilet pans again, while above her, slurry drenched light fittings short-circuited, the sparks lighting up the dimly-lit compartment like bolts of lightning.
The cascade of sewage had finally ceased by now and Amy tumbled into a cubicle, landing back on a toilet seat and smashing her head backwards against the bulkhead with a skull-splitting crack.
Far below, the flow of sewage through the errant pump had fooled the system’s software. Thinking the flow upwards was a result of the system being over-filled, emergency purge valves snapped open to allow the excess fluid to be discharged into space.
With the valves to the toilets on Deck 6 still open, the vacuum of space began pulling everything in the compartment down through the recently flushed toilet pan. Unfortunately this included Amy Lo.
Crewman Tang had recognised that the Poo-nami had ended, and she left the relative safety of the service duct knowing that Lo would need medical assistance.
She found the young Petty Officer in one of the cubicles sitting dazed and moaning softly. She was nursing her burned and scalded hands, and Tang had a moment of panic when she caught sight of a huge smear of blood mixed in with the poo on the back of the cubicle behind Lo’s head. Softly she whispered ‘Take it easy, Lo, I’ll soon have you out of here.’
Lo looked up, dazed and confused, managing the slightest of nods before vomiting long and loud down the front of her uniform.
In between Lo’s loud and visceral bouts of heaving, Tang became aware of a roaring, whistling sound, apparently in the distance. She froze uncertainly, trying to work out what was happening and by the time she understood, it was too late.
‘Oh no. No!’
Her eyes widened as the noise reached a crescendo, becoming an ear-splitting shriek as the compartment was connected to the vacuum of space through the medium of the toilet pans. She leaned forward, grabbing handfuls of Lo’s uniform and trying to haul her out of the cubicle, but Lo’s saturated uniform created a near perfect seal between her bottom and the suction from the toilet pan, holding her firmly in place.
Tang struggled and strained while the barely conscious Lo moaned in pain, but she couldn’t free the younger woman. Tang was acutely aware that the pressure in the compartment was dropping rapidly as her ears popped repeatedly while she tried to wrestle Lo free of the pan.
She had visions in her head of the two of them asphyxiating together, locked in a bizarre turd-lubricated embrace and realised that the oxygen level in the space was falling so quickly it was making her dizzy.
Her efforts to free Lo were not just hampered by suction, but also by a thickening crust of ice. The rapid decrease in pressure led to the moisture in Lo’s clothing flashing off into vapour, drawing enough heat energy from the remaining liquid to solidify it: Lo was being freeze-dried in place.
Tang could feel her body numbing as the liquid on the outside of her suit evaporated in the low pressure, effectively refrigerating her, while at the same time the self-destructing light fittings above showered them both in painful sparks of red-hot molten metal. She was gasping for breath now and could see the moisture in her exhalations freezing instantly into a cloud of ice crystals that quickly began to block her respirator. Lo was going to die. And it was her fault for not reacting quickly enough.
Her head span. She couldn’t let it happen. Not on her watch. She ripped off her respirator and took a few gasps in the rapidly thinning air before straddling Lo, wrapping her arms around her torso and lifting with all of her might. Every muscle and sinew in her body burned as they fought gravity, suction, lack of oxygen and freeze-dried buttocks.
She could see stars through her closed eyes and thought she might pass out, but as the air in the compartment got thinner, so the suction on Lo’s bottom grew less. Finally, with a scream of triumph, Tang wrenched Lo off the toilet seat and they went tumbling backwards across the compartment.
Tang landed with a jarring thump on the floor. Free now, the barely conscious Lo went sailing over Tang, smashing face-first into the door of the compartment, which opened, letting in a hurricane of sweet fresh air.
Tang just had time to realise they’d survived before she finally passed out.
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Tang found herself lying on a bed in Sick-bay.
She was groggy and her body ached all over, but she was still alive. She’d survived another mission in the Deck 6 toilets.
To her surprise she seemed to be wearing some kind of respirator and as she sat up she struggled to get the thing off her face. Gentle hands stopped her. ‘Be careful Tang, leave it in place. The exposure to near vaccuum has damaged the lining of your lungs. The respirator will help ease the discomfort until you’re healed.’
She looked up to see the beautiful but stern face of Doctor Katrin Mengele. The doctor re-seated the mask on Tang’s face and she did Tang noticed that the doctors gloves were made of a black shiny rubber, not entirely unlike her own special-operations suit.
In her slightly confused state she assumed the doctor had been in the Deck 6 toilets too. Unbidden, her mind flashed back to the terrifying events and she remembered that Amy Lo had been in the centre of the storm. ‘How’s Amy?’
The Doctor pushed her back on to the bed. ‘Petty Officer Lo is still unconscious but is recovering. She has a minor fracture and a severe laceration to the rear of the skull which was quite badly infected, but both are beginning to respond to treatment. The burns to both hands are also taking longer to heal than might be expected, but again, this is due to the excessive contamination of the wounds by faecal matter. We also had to pump her stomach as she’d ingested a considerable amount of sewage. She will need surgery to reset her broken jaw and replace several teeth that appear to have been dislodged when she struck the door of the compartment. The severe bruising over most of her body will heal quickly. Like yourself, her lungs were damaged by the exposure to near vacuum, but she also has to deal with frost bite. I’ve never had to treat frost bite on those parts of a person’s anatomy before’ mused the doctor absently.
‘Will she recover?’ asked Tang.
‘A full physical recovery will take a few weeks’ replied the doctor ‘but the psychological damage may take much longer to heal.’
Tang lay back, proud but sad. She’d saved Lo, but like many victims of the Deck 6 toilets, the mental scars might never heal.
Chapter 6: ‘Get Naked!’
Chief Medical Officers Log: Doctor Katrin Mengele
Star Date 9372.5
After six months of refit and repair activity, we finally set sail today. The ship will undertake a seven day cruise during which we hope to work out any remaining minor defects in the ship’s systems.
The Captain is pushing the schedule forward in an attempt to observe an event in a system listed in our catalogue as Sigma Epsilon Iota Eight, approximately eleven light-years distant. The fourth planet in the system has been previously observed to be in a very elliptical orbit that is putting huge stress on the planet’s structure.
The science team have noted that the planet’s orbit has decayed further and they believe that the planet will begin to break up at its next close approach to the star in nine to ten days.
After six month stationary, the crew appear to be more than happy to get underway, and I for one, am relieved to have left orbit.
Whilst the engineers have been pressed to meet all their commitments, the science team, the security staff and the marines have been at rather a loose end. The crew of Tiger are an unruly mob at the best of times. Whilst Captain Hollins has run the ship on a much tighter leash than Captain LaCroix before him, the devil will find work for idle hands to do.
Over the last six months my team has had to deal with an endless stream of minor injuries that are the result of some of the crew having too much time on their hands and very little to do in it. These have ranged from the usual broken and bloody noses of the reserve phaser operations team, down to some bizarre and frankly st
upid injuries.
Only the other day we had to undertake a minor operation as Crewman Alicja Stehr reported to Sick-bay with a 42cm vibrating dildo jammed in her colon. It took us three hours to remove and we subsequently found out she only wanted us to change the batteries.
Most recently we treated second degree burns on chef Wilfried Larssen’s buttocks that were a result of him and chef Burns getting drunk in the Galley and attempting to light their own flatulent gases.
Whilst that was a minor annoyance (and I might add, not the first occurrence) it was a reminder for my team not to eat in the galley. I really can’t think of a less sanitary practice to undertake in a food preparation area. On reflection, I don’t doubt chef Burns could find several.
Observing the break-up of a planetary mass will give the crew welcome focus and hopefully reduce the workload on my team.
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Captain David Hollins sat on the Bridge as the ship swept through the void of deep space. He couldn’t believe how well things were going.
The crew were going about their business with only the bare minimum of intervention necessary, and the number of crew members brought before the weekly disciplinary board had fallen away sharply. He’d not been woken by a single dire emergency since the ship had set sail, nor had he had reason to stay on the Bridge later than his nominal duty hours. He’d even got into the routine of going to the Officer’s Mess for breakfast where he could talk informally to his senior staff before the working day began.
He’d managed to spend time with most of them, but seemed to run into Izzy Grosvenor there virtually every day. Realistically, at this early stage of their mission Izzy had least to talk about out of the senior officers, but he’d found himself spending a disproportionate amount of his breakfast time with her for no obvious reason. Not that he wasn’t complaining: Izzy was great company, and whilst their conversation was often quite intellectual, it was always light-hearted and fun.