by Chris Hechtl
“Come on, let's see if we can do it. I want that job,” Shandra growled.
“Oh hell, Shandra, I was trying to sleep!”
“You were. Let's get this done, then sleep. I couldn't with this on my brain now anyway,” Shandra replied, leaning over the bunk to look down at her.
Mia glanced up at her roommate and then sighed. There was no dissuading her; she'd nag her until she got it done. “Fine,” she said, settling back under the sheet and propping herself up with her pillows. “Just don't expect me to get dressed for it or chat about it later. When it's done I'm going back to bed.”
“Uh oh, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Shandra teased, sounding distracted.
“No, I hadn't fallen asleep yet ... hmmm ...” Mia murmured as she was drawn into the problem.
...*...*...*...*...
Lieutenant Irina Nobeki was quite proud but very aware of her role as acting chief engineer. She was elated but exhausted, fairly certain she was in over her head but stubbornly clinging to the hope that there was light at the end of the tunnel eventually. There had to be; they were making repairs and bringing systems back online daily. They had to be, but it wasn't fast enough for some. She frowned thoughtfully. She could also use a lot more help, her skeleton crew were scattered between the critical ship's systems. Everyone was working double watches. Work parties consisting of bots and one or two people were out in the ship making minor repairs, but ... she shook her head.
They were getting there, she reminded herself. A little at a time. She wished Yosef was a bit less of a plodder though; she had to be on his ass all the time. She was tempted to ask the admiral for his relief but she didn't have anyone to replace him. That was a problem. She didn't know how he had worked out with Mary on Romeo. Probably not well, and it was probably dumb luck that had let him live while a lot of his crew mates like Mary had died.
She sighed. The admiral wasn't the only one stretching his legs. She had to divide her time between the hyperdrive and power rooms. She tried to take the shortest path between them, which helped her learn the ship, but it wasn't exactly the safest route to go. She'd sicked the work crews on repairing them when they had free time. They were doing a bang-up job. The bots were cleaning them up a treat, almost factory new, but she was pretty sure that was all surface.
She shook her head. There would be time for more detailed inspections later once they were in B100 omega. That thought made her sigh heavily once more. Who was she kidding? Sure they'd be able to stand down the hyperdrive watch, but that was about it. It would free up a couple of hands for more repairs but not nearly enough to really tear into the ship's systems that would be down. And if the admiral wanted to maneuver the ship ... she frowned thoughtfully. She'd have to ask him about the plan, and if they could find some more warm bodies. Or ... what about the ODN lines Lobsterman was harping about? If she repaired a couple of the control lines to say power room three could he take up some of the slack there? He was an AI after all, she thought.
She stepped around a crate, then a couple of deck plates and bulkhead panels laying against a bulkhead wall. She maneuvered around the panels; obviously someone had been doing some work she thought with brief approval, though it would have been nice if they'd finished ... A force emitter she was passing over while walking to power room 1 failed, kicking her up into the air in surprise, but her forward inertia was still in play. When her body passed over the plate, gravity was reasserted by the next in line, slamming her down head first into the deck with bone breaking force. She felt a flash of pain and then unconsciousness claimed her.
...*...*...*...*...
“Doctor! Doctor Che! We have incoming wounded! Critical!” a voice said over the intercom, throwing Grace Che out of her slumber with a start. She blinked in confusion, looking about the room.
“What the frack?” she asked as the voice repeated in her implants. She rubbed at her eyes with the palm of her hand, trying to grind the sleep away. “Sitrep?” She demanded.
“Doc, it's the chief engineer. She took a bad fall. Head trauma, spine damage. She's been down for some time.”
“Immobilize her head and neck with a C brace and spine board. Vitals?”
“BP is dropping. Ninety over forty. She's on a respirator now. She wasn't breathing when she was found Doc. Her face is a mess,” the SBA said, sounding worried.
“Prep the OR. I'll be there in a minute,” she said, throwing a shirt on. She grabbed a pair of PJ bottoms, threw them on, then hopped to the hatch. “This better not be another damned drill or someone's going to get an enema or worse,” she snarled.
“It's not, Doc, serious,” the SBA said.
Grace grunted. She'd taken the slot on Maine out of ... well, some mixed sense of duty. She wanted to get some of her own back against the pirate bastards, but she was a doctor. Her duty was to heal not kill. Fortunately the admiral needed people like her too.
She knew she wasn't his first pick. The Glenns were, but they refused to leave Bounty. That was fine. Once she was up to speed she fully intended to strut her stuff. And besides, when she finally did step aside for someone else she would have first-rate implants, a damn fine education, and a reputation with the admiral. All good things for a lady starting over from scratch she thought as she did her hair up on the run. She rounded the corner, stepped through the hatch and into chaos. She took one look at the woman's bloody face and swore. She swore again when she saw the woman's brain waves. She was barely clinging to life. Only her implants were keeping her alive.
“Prep the stasis tube. We'll work on getting her stable while it's being brought in,” she said, rolling up her sleeves to allow a mech to run a sterilizer over them. She held her hands up until the mech slipped on a pair of gloves onto her hands. “Get that bleeder under control ...”
...*...*...*...*...
“How is she doing, Doctor?” Admiral Irons asked as he strode into the sickbay.
“In a word, not good,” Doctor Che replied, standing over a bed. He looked over her shoulder to see Irina being supported gently by grav fields as they maneuvered her into a stasis pod.
“What are you doing?”
“She has a fractured skull, and cervical vertebra three and four have hairline fractures from the way her head twisted. Her mandible is solid, but the skull fracture drove a spike of bone up into her brain and another splinter from her broken nose severed an optic nerve. She's got broken ribs and a punctured spleen and lung as well as a broken right ulna and fractures in her fingers in that hand and two of her left fingers and wrist. I've stabilized her but for the moment she's beyond my help,” Grace said curtly, looking over her shoulder slightly to him.
“I ... Doc, that's repairable.”
“Given time yes. She suffered internal bleeding while she waited there for someone to notice her,” the doctor said tartly. “Not that something like that hasn't happened before,” she said, voice dripping with scorn.
“I'm not following, Doctor,” the admiral replied, voice cooling into a professional tone of command.
“No?”
“It's my fault, Admiral,” Lobsterman said, sounding subdued. The admiral turned to the camera with a raised eyebrow. “I knew about the panel being down but didn't inform her. Nor did I keep track of her progress. In my defense that section of the ship is still outside my ability to see or monitor,” he said.
“But you could have seen her implants,” the doctor snarled. She glared up and then over to a nearby camera. “I know damn well they were screaming bloody murder.”
“They were. The plasma conduit she was near scrambled the signal, Doctor,” the AI said formally. “And as I said, I am sorry,” he said contrite.
“This has happened before?” Irons asked, crossing his arms. He didn't like the sound of that.
“Twice,” Doctor Che said, turning from the trauma bay to indicate the occupied regen tank nearby. “We have injuries daily; this ship is one big deathtrap. I'm surprised no one has been killed. She wa
s close to being the first,” she said, indicating the stasis pod. She seemed to relax as it cooled and a green lit blinked and then held steady. “She's good,” she said, sounding relieved.
Irons studied Irina's battered face. Her eyes were closed, that was a blessing. He looked away.
“A regen tank will repair some of the damage. Some,” the doctor said, stripping her gloves off. She tossed them to a nearby medical robot. The robot bobbed as it caught the discarded gloves with a hand and then beeped in reproval before it took them off to be recycled.
“We've got two in our regen tanks; both have plasma burns and are taking time to heal.”
“Time?”
“Both regen tanks are low on nanites. And I also need some equipment to make the necessary repairs to the good lieutenant. Equipment I currently don't have in my inventory.”
“Which we can deal with, Doctor,” the admiral said, crossing his arms. “Send me a list. Since I am here now, what do you have that needs to be repaired that can help?”
The doctor eyed him for a long moment. Finally she grunted. “Well, we have only one functional bio reactor,” she said, waving a hand. After a moment it shook. “Sorry, I'm tired. Lack of sleep.”
“And low blood sugar, Doctor,” Sprite said.
“If I needed a busy body AI managing my diet I'd program one,” the doctor said tartly, eyes flashing.
“Easy, Doctor, she is expressing her concern,” the admiral said, putting a hand out. The doctor paled slightly, backing away from the hand. He slowly let it drop. “Okay. What else do you need?”
“The reactor,” Grace sighed and ran a hand through her fuzzy short hair. She fully intended to grow it out. To fill out and stop looking like a holocaust victim. The problem was she had no appetite. It was also hard to sleep.
“The reactor is used to grow tissue for the regen tank, correct?” The admiral went over to the food replicator and ordered a sugary power bar along with a cup of coffee.
“Yes,” the doctor replied with a nod. She grimaced when he handed her the bar. “What's this?”
“Most people think of it as food. Or nutrition, Doc. I hate to point out the obvious here.”
“Cute,” she replied, eying him. “Remind me to make a note of this for the next time you have a checkup,” she said, daintily taking the bar with her long fingers.
“No problem. So, the regen tanks are low on nanites and are what, working on stabilizing them?”
“Yes,” the doctor replied. “I have to work on one of them at a time. Triage.”
“I see,” the admiral said. He eyed her. “Coffee?”
“Pass. I'm having enough trouble sleeping as it is.”
The admiral nodded. He took a sip and then grimaced. “Okay, I can see why. That's nasty,” he said shaking his head.
“I never noticed,” the doctor said, choking a bite down. Her eyes flew wide when the sugar hit her pallet. “Wow. Sugar rush.”
“Good.”
“As long as I don't get a stomach ache you mean.”
“There are ways to deal with that,” Irons replied. He went back to the food replicator and rested his right arm on it. Proteus didn't need a command; the AI immediately went to work. He turned back to see the doctor. “Seriously. Make a list,” he said.
She nodded.
“I can repair them, even make some medical equipment. I can't help you with the medical nanites. You have to be a medical officer, which you are,” he said nodding to her, “but a commander's rank at least.”
“Oh.” She grimaced.
“You also have to pass a series of tests and undergo sleep teaching. A lot of sleep teaching,” the admiral said. Her grimace deepened. “Eat.”
“Yeah,” she said, taking another tiny bite. “What I wouldn't do for a decent salad.”
“Hydroponics is still down, Doc. I don't know if we have any greens on board.”
“No,” Sprite and Lobsterman said in unison.
“We will eventually though. For now you can have a replicated one, which,” he made a face, “isn't all that great in my opinion, or choose something else.”
“I'll figure something out,” she said as he finished. He went over to the bioreactor and rested his right arm on it. “Just like that?”
“Just like that. I let the AI do the work,” the admiral said with a smile.
“Nice to have good help,” she murmured.
“You do too, you just need to figure out how to use them.”
“That's my other problem. Finding the time to learn all this,” she said, indicating the room. “I'm in over my head. I'm figuring out the basics of a few things,” she shook her head. “But I'm a country doctor. I was just moving with my family to a new world when ... well,” she indicated the ship.
Irons smiled slightly. “Understandable, Doc. One step at a time.”
“Yeah,” she sighed heavily, shoulders slumping slightly.
“So, she's going to be stuck in stasis until a regen tank is available.”
“If it doesn't get tagged by someone else injured while she's playing sleeping beauty,” Lobsterman said.
“You're still on my shit list you know. I suggest you work harder on not sending me more bodies to repair,” the doctor said. She tossed the last half of the energy bar into the trash then dusted her hands off.
“I'll certainly do my best, ma'am,” the AI replied meekly. He now understood how fragile the meat bags were. He had to take better care of them, he thought.
“You do that, definitely go do that.”
Chapter 3
A week before breakout Admiral Irons, Sprite, Lobsterman, and his acting senior staff held a meeting. They had meetings on a semiregular basis; it was one of the things Commander Sprite wanted to improve upon. Having a schedule was difficult though when they were so shorthanded. Two of their senior officers had to man engineering and the bridge while they talked, and both AI had to keep an eye on the ship's systems as well, which divided their attention slightly.
The topic of the current meeting had changed from a ship's status to a discussion on promotions. It was clear they needed to get a handle on the chain of command, some of the recruits hadn't a clue about it. That had also pointed to another lack, one in proper training.
It was the third time they had held the meeting in the captain's wardroom. Before they'd held it on an ad hock basis, sometimes on the bridge or in the galley or MPR but many times while one of them was on duty or undergoing a repair or even virtually. The multipurpose room was getting a bit crowded though so the admiral had made an effort to do something about the wardroom. He also wanted to start introducing the crew to more formal methods of running the ship.
The wardroom was clean and reasonably private, but there were still panels missing in the drop ceiling and on the port wall. Two of the view screens were out. One was completely missing while the main screen was warped and covered in a spider web of shattered plastic. But the holo emitters built into the table worked and the chairs were functional. Best of all it had a door to the empty steward's kitchen which had a newly repaired drink and food replicator.
The AI stood in at ease poses at opposite corners of the table. Normally the ship's AI would be to the captain's right but Sprite had taken the spot. If the two AI had argued about it, Irons hadn't heard anything. Sprite had Lobsterman by rank as well as precedence anyway.
“We need to replace Lieutenant Nobeki, at least for the time being. I'm open to ideas,” the admiral said, opening up the conversation once they got past the ship's status.
“The problem is we don't have officers with the mindset and training to fill her shoes,” the ship's AI replied. “I and Commander Sprite have checked the roster, sir.”
“Great,” Grace muttered.
“I know Chief Behr means well, but ...” Major Gustov stopped himself with a slight wince. The admiral frowned. Chief Behr was trying; he was currently in engineering but the major was right. He was in over his head. He wasn't the only one however
.
“You can start by drafting Dita, Meia, and the other pilots to help. They aren't doing much,” the marine said waving his fingers in a dismissive move. “Hell, the whole boat bay crew could be turned out into the ship to lend a hand I bet.”
“They are already helping out to the best of their ability. Meia is quite good, but Dita is ... flighty,” Sprite replied. “She has trouble asserting her authority with the ratings. She also tends to be a distraction, preferring to chat rather than work,” the AI stated calmly.
“But they can do more than work in the boat bay and other duties. We don't need the boat bay yet,” the major insisted.
“They are. Both senior pilots have been working on the bridge taking shifts at the helm as well as the navigation station,” the admiral said.
The marine blinked in surprise. “Oh.”
“I authorized them to keep the boat bay functional and go over the shuttles. We're going to need them shortly, and we're going to need them at the top of their form—100 percent. I don't want any flight accidents,” the admiral stated, one hand flat against the table while his right cradled a cup of coffee. He took a sip and then set the cup down.
“I understand that, sir, but I've had to call them out when they were messing with the fighters instead of the shuttle craft or boat bay systems,” Lobsterman replied. “They had, still have to be honest, their priorities mixed up.”
“They are fighter pilots. That's normal,” Grace replied with a snort. She didn't know either officer in question.
“It seems to me engineering is our biggest headache,” Ensign Poseidon said softly. She shot an apologetic look to the Admiral. “They are the ones floundering now that Lieutenant Nobeki is absent. Which,” she turned to the doctor, “I was wondering about. When will she be back on duty? That would solve that problem,” she said softly.
The doctor frowned in annoyance. “Not until after we exit hyper. I am still learning how to deal with her extensive damage,” she admitted. “Some things you can't rush. Not if we don't want her to come out as a vegetable,” the doctor insisted defensively. Her eyes flashed a challenge to the other officer. Ariel frowned but then nodded.