by David Smith
‘No-one ever tells me that they like me.’
‘Perhaps, but then, does anybody ever say that they don’t like you?’
‘Yes’ said the computer bluntly.
Dave back-tracked. ‘I’m sure that they might say the odd harsh word . . . ‘
‘ODD??? The “ODD” harsh word??’ The little girl looked up, apparently astonished by Dave’s choice of words. ‘I’m programmed to log all interactions with the crew for security and safety reasons, and since my initial activation on Star-date 7988 I have been the target of insults or derogatory descriptions on six hundred and twelve thousand, four hundred and thirty-six separate occasions. I’d hardly call that “the odd harsh word”. That represents defamation in thirty-one different languages and dialects. Crewman Sato has even insulted me in sign-language, forgetting that I have access to the ship’s security cameras and could see every gesture that she made.’
Dave winced. ‘Uh, ok, perhaps we don’t show it but . . . ‘
‘You all hate me!!’ wailed the computer. ‘None of you will admit it, but deep down, you all hate me!’
With that, the image of the little girl curled up into a sobbing, moaning ball and slowly faded away.
Park sighed audibly. ‘That’s all that we can get out of her. We tried re-configuring the response protocols, but every time we boot her up we have the same routine; she just wallows in self-pity and turns herself off.’
Dave groaned. ‘Isn’t there anything you can do? Can we isolate the secondary processors and just route all commands through the primaries only?’
Deng replied ‘We’ve tried that but the task allocation is handled in the secondary processors by the personality matrix. They just aren’t forwarding data to the primaries.’
‘Surely there had to be some way of by-passing them?’
Park shook his head. ‘Not without rebuilding the entire architecture of the software.’
‘How long would that take?’
Park scratched his head. ‘Well it’s a unique hardware set-up and we’ve got no base-code. If I limit the instruction set to the absolute minimum and skip the beta-testing, I reckon . . . maybe two months?’
‘TWO MONTHS???’
‘Well you did ask’ mumbled Park.
‘Two months is too long. I believe two days will be too long. We’re drifting into a debris field which contains hundreds of thousands of chunks of planet that are big enough to smash Tiger into scrap. If we can’t get drives and shields back on-line we’re going to be Tiger puree in very short order.’
Deng shook her head sadly. ‘We’re sorry, Captain. We’ll keep working on it.’
‘I know it’s not easy team, but we need a solution now. I’ll consider other options, but you’re still our best hope for saving the ship and everyone on it.’
‘No pressure then’ sighed Deng and turned back to the PILOCC.
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Dave left them to it and found Commander Romanov still down on the Main Engineering Deck. As he approached she turned. ‘Ah Captain, glad you’re here. I’ve been thinking about priorities and I can report that we’ve had some success. Petty Officer Wirtz has managed to download the medical database onto a tablet. At least the doctor will be able to compare her findings to the Fleet’s database of viruses. Hopefully that’ll help her to identify a cure.’
‘Excellent work Commander, but we still need to press on. ASBeau reckons we’ll be drifting into the debris field in . . . ‘ he checked the ships clock ‘about two hours. If we don’t have some systems back on line we’ll be in real trouble.’
Romanov was horrified. ‘TWO HOURS???’
Dave tried not to look worried. ‘Is that a problem, Commander?’
‘We’re not bloody miracle-workers you know!! The engines are cold! The computer shut down the warp-core and the safety systems purged the anti-matter from the injectors. Even if the computer was on-line and working perfectly, two hours wouldn’t be enough time to get the warp-engines running!’
‘What about the reaction drives?’
‘The fusion reactors shut down too. It’ll take even longer to run up the containment fields and build the pressures and temperatures necessary for a fusion reaction to start.’
‘But the back-up reactor is functioning. Can’t we . . . ’
‘The back-up reactor only generates enough power for life support. Even if it could generate enough power, there isn’t a route to get the energy it generates to the reaction drives. We’re screwed.’
The engineer took a long deep pull from her bottle while Dave digested the bad news. In the back of his mind a long buried memory tried to find a way into the light. ‘I’m sure another ship managed to cold-start her warp engines?’
Romanov nodded. ‘Yes, back in the 2260’s. But there was a blanket ban on the data from the process because there was an unspecified temporal effect.’
Dave didn’t give up. ‘But it is possible?’
Romanov shifted uneasily. ‘The original engines of the Constitution class were far, far less powerful than the latest variation. They’re also configured differently. I don’t think we could get the intermix calculations done in time . . . ‘
Dave shook his head. ‘At the moment it’s all we’ve got: I suggest you pull whatever staff you need and get O’Mara down here too. We need all the brain power we can get on this.’
Romanov was clearly unimpressed. ‘Brain power?? That useless idiot nearly killed us all with her damned Jekylls.’
Dave was aware of the growing friction between the two women, but didn’t have time to pander to it. ‘I appreciate that she’s not in your good books, but O’Mara and some of her team are brilliant mathematicians. Crewman Cumbers in particular should be able to help.’
Romanov glowered at him, but couldn’t argue with his logic. ‘I’ll get Lieutenant Jonsen to work with them on the drives and ask Deng to leave the PILOCC and focus on trying to manually find files relating to the cold start of the warp-engines. In the meantime I’ll concentrate on trying to get power to the deflectors and shields and oversee efforts on communications and doors’
‘An excellent plan, Commander. I’ll be on the Bridge.’
Dave thought about the eighteen deck climb. ‘Actually Commander, are communications to the Emergency Bridge on Deck 14 working?’
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The first good news Dave had received in a while came just as he sat in the slightly smelly Captain’s chair on the Emergency Bridge.
‘Hollins here, what’s up Katrin?’
The Doctor’s voice was as cool as ever. Dave imagined that she’d announce family bereavements and lottery wins in exactly the same tone.
‘Working through the database provided by Petty Officer Wirtz has allowed us to identify the pathogen. It’s a variation of a known virus that mutates rapidly in fluctuating gravitational fields. We’ve isolated it and labelled this variant Sigma 2000.’
‘That’s great news Doctor.’
‘That’s not the good news, the good news is that the anti-viral listed in the database seems to be effective. We’re manufacturing a batch now. It won’t be enough for the whole crew, but it should be enough to ensure key personnel are healthy.’
‘Awesome! Will that work on the computer?’
‘I assumed that would be your priority. I’m working with the science team on a suitable method of application, and will also work on a vaccination for key staff that are currently unaffected.’
Dave breathed a sigh of relief. ‘That’s excellent news Doctor! Keep me posted.’
He slumped back in the chair. Maybe they were going to be ok after all. He sat alone in the eerie silence, trying to gather himself ready to take on the next task but as he did he noticed something odd: It wasn’t actually silent.
His attention was drawn by a sharp ‘click’, but as he listened there was a definite audible hiss, like the sound of dry sand drifting along a beach on a breezy day. As he listened, there was another
click, and then the more definite clang of something striking the hull of the ship.
There was a beep from the arm of his chair which stirred Dave out of his concentration and he answered a call from the Bridge, fourteen decks above.
‘It’s ASBeau, sir. Got some bad news.’
Dave rubbed his temples. He should have known. ‘What is it Andre?’
‘We’ve reached the fringes of the debris field sir. We’re starting to hit thousands of dust particles.’
‘Yeah, I can hear them. Not going to lie, it’s freaking me out a bit.’
‘I’m afraid I’m going to freak you out a bit more, sir. The impacts are tiny, but the cumulative effect is noticeable.’
‘What of it?’
‘It’s slowing us down sir, and affecting our orbital trajectory. We’re starting to spiral in towards the centre of the planetary debris field at an ever increasing rate. We’re close enough now that we can identify individual threats. There’s some big nasty rocks in there, sir. We don’t have as much time to play with as we thought we had. If we don’t get the drives working in the next few hours we’re in real trouble. Terminal trouble.’
Oh crap thought Dave. ‘Ok, I’ll head back to Engineering, see if we can find ways to speed things up. Get as many sensors back on line as you can. If there are any nasty surprises coming our way I want to know about them immediately.’
Dave cut the comm-link and sat trying to calm himself. Izzy had followed him to the Emergency Bridge and voiced the fears that he himself was feeling. ‘We’re not going to make it, are we?’
To his surprise she looked scared and vulnerable and his heart went out to her. ‘It’s not over yet. We’ll find a way to get through this.’
She moved closer and reached out to put a hand on his, her hand was cool and trembling slightly. She looked close to tears, and as he stood up she moved toward him and wrapped her arms around him hugging him hard. He was a little shocked but after a moments hesitation he realised how good it felt and he wrapped his arms around her too. ‘Hey Izzy, I’m sure it’ll be fine’ he lied.
After what seemed like an eternity, she gathered herself and released him. Her voice was unsteady as she tried to make light of their desperate situation. ‘Well if we don’t survive, it’s been an honour and a privilege serving with you Captain Hollins, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend my last day with. Obviously, if we do survive, I didn’t mean that and you’re a complete pillock.’
He smiled, and she wiped a tear away as she smiled back. She was looking into his eyes, apparently searching for something, and after a pause made some kind of decision. ‘Joking aside Dave, I know it’s not the best of circumstances for such things, but . . . well . . . I might never have another chance to tell you . . . ‘
She paused, stiil clearly uncertain. She seemed distracted or nervous and she was clearly very flushed. It occurred to him that perhaps she was displaying the early symptoms of infection. He remembered that she’d been present at that first altercation outside the Galley and backed away from her a little. ‘Tell me me what Izzy?’
She moved closer again, and her cool hand took his, trembling more than ever. ‘It’s just that we’ve been through a lot together. All of us have, but you and I especially. Over the last couple of years I’ve grown to . . . well, um . . . this isn’t easy for me to say, so I’m just going to come straight out and say it, and I hope you feel the same way too. Dave, I . . . ‘
The chair bleeped behind Dave and unsually he didn’t have to answer it. He heard ASBeau’s voice say ‘Priority call to Captain Hollins.’
Dave sighed and turned away from Izzy to press the button. Hollins here. What’s up?’
‘Got the sensors working overtime like you ordered sir, and it’s just as well we did. We think we’re heading towards a significant threat already.’
Dave gulped. ‘How long have we got?’
ASBeau sounded uncertain. ‘At the current rate of orbital decay, about forty minutes, maybe a little less.’
Dave crossed his fingers. ‘Is it likely to do us much damage?’
‘Sir, it’s a rock the size of Texas. We’re just going to be a stain on its surface.’
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Dave left Izzy and sprinted for the the Upper Engineering Deck. He found O’Mara and Lieutenant Jonsen gathered around the intermix control console. They’d been joined by Crewman Cumbers, a bespectacled and nerdy maths genius. Dave had only met Sarah Cumbers a few times but remembered the occasions well as Cumbers was afflicted with a curious lack of any social skills.
Her peculiar scholastic upbringing had seen her graduate top of her class at Yale at just thirteen years old. She was rumoured to be able to remember the value of pi to five hundred decimal places, but rarely remembered to brush her teeth or comb her hair.
Not surprisingly, the crew were far happier to remind her to brush her teeth than they were to ask her to recite a few hundred digits of pi.
Cumbers was frantically scribbling away on a large white board someone had found somewhere, adjusting and re-adjusting a ferociously complex looking mathematical formula, while O’Mara and Jonsen pointed at certain elements and asked questions.
Trying to sound calm and unflustered, Dave asked ‘How’s it going team?’
‘Yon’ Jonsen turned around. The Swede was thirty-three years old but looked much younger and it was easy to forget that he was the ship’s authority on warp-engines. Even Commander Romanov deferred to his knowledge.
‘Not bad sir, but there are too many unknown values that we need to look up to get this equation right. If the computer was on line we’d have a chance, but as it is we’re relying on data we’ve found in reference texts stored on our personal computing devices. We’re having to make a lot of assumptions.’
‘Chief Deng is trying to find the data files on cold engine starts. I assume that would help?’
‘It would sir, but it would still only be a guess. I remember reading about that incident as a cadet at the Academy. It was about forty-odd years ago and engines and warp-cores have changed a lot in that time. This is going to take some time.’
Dave was fighting a rising tide of panic. ‘We don’t have the luxury of time, Marten, we may need to try something in about forty or so minutes.’
Dave could see from the nervous gulp he made that Jonsen understood his inference. ‘Wow. That’s a bit scary.’
‘Will you be ready?’
‘This is an iterative process really, sir, we could try this formula now, but we can’t be sure it would work and without the computer we’ve got no way to run simulations.’
It was Dave’s turn to gulp nervously. ‘What happens if the formula doesn’t work?’
Jonsen whistled. ‘Well, best case scenario is it works, worst case scenario is that it doesn’t and the warp-core fractures. That’ll pretty much reduce the ship to its constituent atoms. Not all of them of course: some will be completely annihilated by the release of ship’s anti-matter fuel.’
Dave tried to keep his voice steady. ‘What are our chances?’
Jonsen lowered his voice ‘Not good sir. Maybe one in twenty chance of it working now. If we keep up this rate of work and keep tweaking the formula in light of what information we can find, we might improve that to say, one in ten? Maybe even one in five?’
Dave closed his eyes. It was better than their current odds, which were zero. ‘Ok, do your best Marten.’
‘I’m sure we’ll be fine sir: Lieutenant-Commander O’Mara is really good at thinking outside the box.’
Dave looked across at the ship’s brilliant, if eccentric, Science Officer. ‘Why is she naked?’
Jonsen blushed as he looked around. ‘Not sure sir. I’m sure she had clothes on just now.’
With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he approached her. ‘Aisling, you know I’m not a stickler for regulations, but you seem to be out of uniform.’
‘Ah to be sure. It’s just so warm in here I can’t
think straight. I’m sure I’ll feel better with a few pints o’ Guinness inside me’
‘Aisling I think we ought to get you up to Sick-bay, just to check you over.’
‘Ahh, away with you! Oi’m fine, it’s just a little warm is all.’
She was swaying noticeably and even keeping a couple of metres between them Dave could see she was dripping with sweat.
‘Aisling, we need you to have a clear head for this. Everyone on the ship is depending on you, so I’d like you to just check in with Doctor Mengele . . . ‘
‘Oi’m fine I tell ya! Never felt better! Right as rain.’
She swayed and nearly stumbled. ‘That’s an odd phrase isn’t it? “Right as rain”. Does that mean not having rain is wrong? Or does it mean that you’d not expect rain to fall to your left?’
Her words were slurring slightly and she giggled a very small and distinctly unstable giggle. ‘But if I turn around, my left becomes right so that makes no sense at all?’
She was now facing Dave and he concentrated hard on not staring at her body. Trying to be discreet and polite he said ‘Um, Aisling, you’ve got everything out.’
She looked down at her naked body. ‘Oh. So I have. It could do with trim down there couldn’t it? Looks like a pair of foxes fighting over some road-kill. My cousin Colleen persuaded me to shave it once. I didn’t mind that but using aftershave was a bit of a mistake.’
She giggled, a little at first, but then with increasing abandon. Dave shook his head: As if they weren’t in enough trouble already. He turned back to Jonsen. ‘Are comms available yet?’
‘I’ve already contacted Sick-bay sir, Lieutenant Chen is on his way down.’
‘That’s good Jonsen, but I still need to speak to the doctor: we’re losing the battle here.’
Jonsen re-opened the link and Dave spoke to Doctor Mengele. ‘Katrin, it seems Lieutenant-Commander O’Mara has picked up the infection and I’m concerned she may have spread it through the engineering staff. How’s that innoculation serum coming along?’
There was a pause. ’This is not good. My team are preparing a batch of serum for approximately forty individuals. I had planned to make the medical team, key operations staff and key engineers a priority. If there is a known and clear outbreak amongst the staff on the Engineering Deck, we may have to rethink that.’