During his next maintenance duty shift, he managed to find time to review the personnel files for his work section. What surprised him the most was that the majority of his maintenance team had little to no maintenance experience. That was why they didn’t know how to calibrate a turret properly. He wanted to look into this further but he had his ship orientation class right after his duty shift ended.
The orientation class was again three hours long but this time half of their time was spent on ship procedures and the second half was spent on a walking tour. They quickly toured four decks making stops at the sick bay, escape pods as well as passing mess halls and ship stores. They were promised a visit to the CIC and to the flight decks over the next few days.
At the end of the class, Mike was tired and hungry. He had thirty minutes before he had to attend his officer basic course class. Throwing caution to the wind he stopped at the officers’ mess he had dined at the night before.
Looking in he saw that once more the dining facility was empty. Crossing to the food dispensers he tried to place an order but was once again refused. Looking around to confirm he was alone he then called for some help.
“Pallas,” he said in a normal voice.
“Hello Mike,” a voice sounded from the food dispenser’s terminal.
“Sorry to bother you but I’m locked out again,” he said feeling bad for always calling on the A.I. for help.
“This is odd,” Pallas replied, “it seems that an update was sent out and again you were left off the list.”
“Let me guess, it came from the Commodore’s office,” Collins commented.
“Yes, but this time I’ll place you in a permanent access file that can’t be changed by such updates.”
“Thanks again,” he said making his food selections. Grabbing his tray, he moved to the table he sat at the other night.
As he moved and sat down he continued to talk to the supercomputer who was his friend. He tried to find time to check in on the A.I. who he knew was all alone on a ship of thousands of people. It was mostly small talk about their day and what they had been working on. For him, he could tell that sitting in a stationary orbit doing nothing was bothering the battle carrier.
He was about to bring that up when the mess hall’s main doors slid open as dozens of star pilots filled the room. Again, the space jockeys were loud and in a hurry to get fed.
Mike ignored them and continued to eat. Pulling out his palm pad he reviewed his coursework for today’s class. A few minutes later he realized that he was no longer alone as four officers approached his far table. Three of them he recognized as Lt. Wilson, Lt. Hiraoka and Ensign Smith from his last visit to this officers’ mess. The fourth member of their group was a female officer. She wore the rank of ensign and was slender with brown hair and hazel eyes. Her rank and name tag identified her as Ensign McKenzie. He guessed that she was either Wilson’s or Hiraoka’s wingman.
This time they put their trays down at the seats around him but stayed standing.
“This is our table,” Hiraoka said with authority.
Collins didn’t even look up from his work as he answered.
“I double checked and though your star wing is allocated to use this mess during this time it is still an open officers’ mess with no restrictions,” he stated and then added, “I have less than thirty minutes before my next assignment and I only have time to get to this dining hall so that I can eat.”
“We should just toss him out of here,” Ensign Smith said in anger.
Mike let out a sigh and looked up from his pad.
“I don’t think that would go well for any of us,” he said and casually picked up his spoon. It was made of dura alloy, stronger than steel and would virtually never wear out. Taking it in his right hand he bent the spoon into the shape of a C using just his thumb and his index finger.
“What the …?” Lt. Wilson commented in surprise.
Smith quickly moved to the side of the table and craned his neck to look at the back of Collins’ head.
“He’s jacked,” he exclaimed referring to his hard wire unit.
Mike tossed the spoon on the table and went back to his meal with his fork.
“Are you a commando?” asked Hiraoka.
“Or a pilot?” Smith added getting a frowning glance from Wilson.
“If he had a pilot packaged he wouldn’t have extreme strength,” he informed wanting to slap the junior officer on the back of his head.
“Actually, I have both,” Collins announced.
“You’re a commando and a pilot?” Wilson said in disbelief.
“Yes and no,” Mike said sounding cryptic.
“What does that mean?” asked Ensign McKenzie finally joining their conversation.
“I was a pilot and a commando until I came to this ship. That’s when Commodore Essex decided that he didn’t like where I got my training. So, he demoted me from full lieutenant down to an ensign, took away my flight status and my qualification badges,” he quickly explained.
“We heard of you! You are part of the Leper Colony,” Ensign Smith blurted out.
“The Leper Colony?” Collins replied making a face as he spoke.
“Yeah, that’s what they call those guys down in maintenance on the subdecks below Deck 13,” Wilson added and continued, “that’s where our former CAG ended up.”
Mike looked at them still frowning.
“Let’s start with why you call maintenance the Leper Colony?”
Wilson and Smith both smiled.
“That’s where crewmen end up who are on Lt. Friar and the Commodore’s shit list,” Hiraoka explained looking serious.
“Lt. Bitch,” Ensign McKenzie injected in a lowered voice. She clearly didn’t like the commodore’s dog robber.
“And your former commander?” Mike pressed.
“She didn’t want us housed on this deck but two decks down on the same deck as the fighter bays,” Lt. Wilson explained.
“That seems both wise and practical,” Collins commented and then asked, “So why was that a problem?”
“The quarters are better on this deck. It also has both an officers’ mess and recreational facilities close by,” Smith answered smiling.
Mike shook his head in disbelief that they would cater to the pilots’ comforts over their ability to get to their star fighters more quickly. Clearly in this ship’s future, there would be no Battle E or Imperial Battle Efficiency award – an award that is given for high efficiency and exemplary performance.
“What happened to your former Commander Star Group?” he inquired.
Wilson kind of huff out a small laugh.
“Lt. Commander Huber is down on Deck 13 with the other Lepers,” he said with a big toothy smile.
Collins shook his head as he tried to suppress his anger.
“Maybe you should find another table,” he suggested as he calmly unbent the spoon.
Lt. Wilson and Lt. Hiraoka looked at each other before one of them spoke.
“All right Ensign, we order you to move,” Wilson said folding his arms across his chest.
“Open mess, so shove off,” Collins replied looking up and crossing his arms in front of his chest in defiance.
“We should just toss him out,” Ensign Smith said moving closer.
Mike let out a sigh as he started to stand up. At that moment, the cafeteria’s alarms went off followed by a voice.
“Attention, this is an unscheduled readiness drill - all pilots immediately report to the flight bay,” it then repeated its message. Unlike a general quarter’s drill, this was just targeted to the flight crews and pilots.
A loud groan went out from the personnel in the mess hall as they took a last bite of their food or a sip of their drinks before they hurried out of the room.
Mike sat back down and smiled as the four fighter pilots turned away and rushed for the doors.
Ensign Smith looked back for a moment.
“This isn’t over yet,” he called.
Collins casually waved back as he reached over and took a slice of pie off of one of their trays.
In a few minutes, the room was empty and he was left all alone.
Mike took a bite of the pilfered apple pie and smiled.
“Pal, did you do that?” he asked out loud.
A moment later the A.I. answered.
“I’m allowed three random readiness drills per month,” the supercomputer informed.
“Thanks,” Collins replied feeling that at least he had one person looking out for him.
“I didn’t want your altercation to become physical,” Pal informed.
“No, that would have been bad for all of us,” he replied thinking of what a field day Granny Essex would have had disciplining them. Maybe he should skip this mess hall in the future but he hated to let the smug bastards win.
Chapter Four
Over the next few days, he took time to start and close his team’s duty shifts with maintenance and engineering training. Conferring with Lt. Commander Huber and his team’s Chief Petty Officer, he tried to fill in some of the gaps in their training.
At first, the Leper Colony resisted, some crewmen even being vocal in their displeasure but as they were tasked to varying and different assignments they quickly found that their new ensign did indeed have the experience to lead them.
After a week, Mike felt he was getting into the swing of things, He had a few more days of ship orientation classes and then that would be over. His officer’s course was the same as the one he completed on the Star Wolf. Along with his academy training, he had no problem acing the exams.
The Leper Colony was learning fast and thankfully his roommate never seemed to be in their quarters at the same time he was. The only evidence that Ensign Porter was even living there was the new pile of trash that seems to appear whenever he got back to his quarters.
As he settled into this new routine and lifestyle he was alerted via a digital message order that he had been given the additional duty of being the automated robotic maintenance parts officer. Lt. Commander Huber knew nothing of this assignment accept that it was a sub-office that was mostly used to house parts, malfunction robots and broken droids.
Pallas once more confirmed that the orders were coming from the Commodore’s office. He didn’t like it but orders were orders, at least for now.
Searching Deck 13, Sublevel-D he found a hatch door that had a sign next to it that said, “Repair, Salvage, and Parts Storage.” There was no intercom or signal alarm and it was probably useless to knock on the thick poly-metal door so he just opened it up.
He was expecting another small room like the office that Lt. Cmdr. Huber used but this was a much larger room. It was rectangular, dimly lit and packed with rows of shelving. The rows were triple stacked and ran along the entire length and width of the room. Down the center of the room was an extremely long table that was covered with electronic parts as well as boxes under the table.
Near the hatch was the sole occupant of the room. He was busy working on what looked like a food processor unit. He appeared to be middle aged and wore the rank of a Petty Officer Second Class.
“God damn piece of junk!” the petty officer swore as he hit the machine with his sonic wrench in frustration.
Mike cleared his throat and waited for him to look up.
The man’s light blue eyes squinted at him for a minute as he frowned.
“Sorry sir, just having a problem taking this thing apart for parts,” he said.
“Believe me, I understand,” Mike said stepping closer and continued, “I’ve been given an additional duty and I’ve been assigned to this section as the assistant salvage and parts officer.”
The petty officer shook his head and kind of half smiled.
“Ensign, you are the only officer assigned to this section,” he informed.
“How many crewmen do we have?” Collins asked.
“I’ve been here for two months and I haven’t seen anyone else,” he answered shrugging his shoulders.
“So, just you and me,” Mike said with a sigh.
“Yes sir, I’m Petty Officer Pieter Schmidt,” he replied with a slight German accent sounding in his voice.
“I’m Ensign Mike Collins,” he said glancing at his rank and back to his face.
Schmidt watched this young officer look at his collar and then frown.
“You’re wondering how a man of my age is just an E-5 and ended up assigned to the armpit of a battle carrier,” he suggested.
“Now that you mention it, you do seem a bit old to be just a petty officer second class,” Mike agreed.
“Well, I’m sure you could just download my personal file and read it for yourself. I was a Senior Chief Petty Officer with my own engineering team, primarily servicing the bender drives and the fusion drives when needed,” he started to explain and then paused as he sat back down and returned to work on the food processor.
“That’s a pretty important job, so what happened?” Mike inquired.
“I fell in love,” Schmidt replied not looking up from his work.
“And?” he prompted knowing that love was a good thing but in the military, it could be rather complicated.
“And she was a crewman, a Petty Officer in my section and half my age,” he revealed still looking down at the table.
“So, you were found out and punished,” Mike concluded.
“No, just as we were preparing to asked for separate transfers and then apply to get married, Captain LaFevers and Commodore Essex somehow found out about our relationship.”
“Captain’s Mast?” Mike said.
“Followed by the choice of a court-martial or reduction in grade. I was reduced three grades in rank and she was reduced from a E-5 to a E-2. I was sent here to waste my days away and she was transferred to the orbital ship repair yard at Hanson’s World,” he informed.
“It could have been worse, you could have both ended up in the brig and then dishonorably discharged from the service,” he commented thinking that in a desperate war like this you can’t just be kicking skilled people out.
“Yeah, but that would have at least let us be together. They even shot down our request for permission to get married and … well, she is pregnant,” he said throwing his wrench back down on the table.
Mike didn’t know what to say as fraternization is a serious offense in the service especially within a chain of command.
“Well, here is my hard luck story. I brought the Commodore dispatches from the front and he felt fit to take away my battlefield commission of lieutenant and then stripped me of my qualification badges. He then sent me down to maintenance on Subdeck-E while making me take over several classes to eat up all of my free time. They then gave me this additional duty assignment for good measure.”
“Your part of the Leper Colony,” the Petty Officer stated.
Ensign Collins nodded.
“Yep that’s us,” he said
The former engineer stood up and offered him his hand.
“You can call me Schmidty, sir,” he said with a slight smile.
Mike took his hand and shook it as he returned his smile.
“So, what do we have here?” he asked looking down the rectangular room.
“Well, it was a real mess when I first arrived. The shelves were overflowing with parts while broken machines, droids and old robots filled the aisle along both sides of the table.”
“Looks like it is still a mess,” Mike commented still looking it over as he spoke.
“I got it half sorted out but then I started getting more drop-offs from the main repair center and as they say a man can only do so much,” the petty officer explained sounding a bit disheartened.
“No problem, I’m sure we can get this all sorted out,” the young ensign said with confidence.
Stepping around the edge of the work table he looked down the back aisle. There he saw a line of repair droids in various stages of disassembly. The three closes to him
looked in almost perfect condition.
“What wrong with these droids?” he asked kneeling down to examine the closest one.
“Sir, I really don’t know. When they come to me they have already been deep-sixed. My job is just to strip them down for salvable parts,” Schmidty informed.
Mike tinkered with the closest repair droid and managed to activate its systems. The droid came to life for a second and then shut back down.
“Do you have a diagnostic scanner?” Collins asked looking up from the repair droid.
“Yes sir,” he said and reached under the table to a beat up looking tool box. He dug around for a few seconds and then pulled out an old scanner.
“Thanks,” he said as he plugged it into the droid’s access port. A second later the scanner lit up and Mike panned down the diagnostic file until he found a red line indicating that something was wrong. Opening the file, he found that the droid’s power core was malfunctioning. Continuing through the diagnostic he found that nothing else was wrong.
“What the hell?” the young ensign exclaimed at the end of his search.
“Anything wrong, sir?” Schmidty asked glancing over at him.
“According to this, the droid only has a damaged power cell,” Mike replied and then asked, “do you have any laying around?” even as he was thinking that he should be able to steal one from another damaged droid if he had to.
“Yes sir, there is a box of them on the table just two feet down from you,” the Petty Officer replied as he pointed with his wrench towards the box.
Mike moved down the aisle and quickly found a box full of them. Looking at the power cells he quickly picked one that looked in good condition. Returning to the droid he rolled it over and then took a sonic key and opened the back panel. He was expecting to find a ruptured power cell and that the interior of the droid was ruined but instead he saw that everything looked fine.
“What the heck?” he said shaking his head as he replaced the faulty cell.
Schmidty crossed to him and looked in the open panel.
Wolves at the Gate Page 9