by Chris Hechtl
"Agreed."
"What? That was quick!"
"We've been through this before Sprite. Several times. Taking the pressure off, learning through gaming is a good idea. Even just socializing is good. But if they choose other outlets, let them be."
She nodded on his HUD. "Understood."
"Not everyone wants to be logged in all day every day. Sometimes we organics need a break."
"And you just made my argument for me again. Did anyone tell you that can be maddening? The way you keep bouncing around?" she demanded.
He snorted softly, shaking his head. He smiled slightly after a moment. "Yeah. Tough."
"Cute."
"Get with the other AIs and department heads. Figure out some simple games, set up a virtual lounge, whatever. Run it past the senior staff. The captains will need to be kept in the loop."
"Yes, over use could be an issue," Sprite said thoughtfully. She considered how to slip a few sims in but then decided to hold off. She'd tried that with the admiral on Phoenix, and he'd resented her efforts.
"I doubt it. There is too much to do, and people know it. They may even feel guilty about using it at all. Don't be surprised if you don't have many people. At least not at first."
"Burying themselves in work?"
"I'd like to say it is a form of therapy. It is in a way, but it is also a way of postponing the mental issues. Delaying and avoiding dealing with them, which is a problem," he admitted.
"True."
"Fine. Pick a close holiday. Or an event. Something to take the edge off and allow the crews to bond."
"The best time to do that is when we are in real space and not going crazy with repairs," she warned.
"Which we can do while underway. Like on our way to the B-99 jump point for instance,” he suggested. She nodded thoughtfully. “We can work on that later."
"Understood, Admiral. Thank you for considering the issue."
“Right, now leave me be to get this ...” he finished with the last rather long screw and then pulled the assembly out. The rotten gasket let go, dribbling all over the place. Tar came with it. Apparently someone had been doing half ass fixes for some time. “Get this done.” he said, fighting the urge to flick his dripping hand. He didn't want to flick the sealant all over the place; it would mean more work to clean it up.
“And have fun getting clean,” Sprite said mischievously as her image popped out.
...*...*...*...*...
Commander Vestri Sindri grinned. He was in heaven; this shit was just too good to be true he thought as he watched the work crew around him. He'd thought being demoted off the command deck of that hated corvette would be a slap in the face but instead it had been a godsend. Not only was he overseeing Maine's repairs but also the fleets as the admiral's deputy. Irons was too busy going from replicator to replicator entering keys and calling the shots to make certain it was done right; that was what a good chief engineer and XO were for.
He also liked the update to his own implants. Commander Sprite and the Admiral had initialized his implants with engineering keys when he'd first signed on to Bounty, but he'd never really learned to use them comfortably. Now that had changed. And the admiral had seen fit to expand his key list too. He still couldn't make major components, but he could take some of the load off of the admiral.
The admiral had finally agreed to relocate the tankers to orbit the gas giant. That shortened the length of time the automated tugs took to get the fuel from the refinery to them, from nearly a day to hours. But that had opened up another problem; the refinery couldn't keep up, which was where Vestri had come in. Since repairs on Maine were at a standstill until a new reactor could be finished, he'd borrowed one of the battlecruiser's replicators and had slipped in a few components between other orders over the past several days.
Now he was watching the crew put his creation together, another gas refinery. This one was twice the size of the admiral's first, better able to deal with the demand of the tankers.
“Shouldn't we be putting this together outside, Chief?” Samantha asked, shaking her blond head.
“We're going to. But we're going to put together as many sub-assemblies together here in a shirt sleeve environment before putting the bigger bits together out there. Trust me, doin it this way will save us a ton of time. In the long run.”
“Um ...” Sam was trying to picture how to get some of the more ungainly pieces out the hatch. Maybe if they put the pieces together in a boat bay ...
He shook his head at her. “You really wanna put the wiring in with suit gloves on?” He demanded.
“Now that you mention it ... no.”
“All right then,” he growled. He stepped aside to let a mech come in with another gas bladder. They'd have to check it thoroughly, the damn mech's grippers had punctured the last one.
“We should be doing the next step in the boat bay, sir,” she said. He eyed her with hooded eyes. She shrugged uncomfortably. “Just sayin,” she said.
“Good point. Getting the grav collars on these to move ‘em are going to be a pain. I'll look into the cradle. You keep things moving here,” he ordered.
“Aye, sir,” she said, nodding dutifully. She had a million other jobs working in DCC but apparently he wanted this done.
“Get back to work,” he growled.
“Aye aye, sir.”
...*...*...*...*...
Shutting down Echo, Tweedle Dumb, and Tweedle Dee would have all sorts of benefits, the admiral thought. Having each of them docked to the flanks and keel of Maine allowed their reactors and systems to be taken off line. Eventually the work crews would get around to upgrading and making any repairs that were needed in the smaller ships. For now, they could wait. Granted they were no longer out there on patrol or working with the freighters to break up asteroids for the factory ship, but they'd been marginal in that task anyway. None of them had the bussard scoops required so they wouldn't be missed. Pulling their crews had been a shot of fresh blood for the other ships. Commander Sindri was one heck of a chief engineer, perfect for Maine. The thirty-two other crew members were sprinkled into the skeleton crews of Maine as well as the other ships. The extra officers transferring in to fill in gaps on some of the shifts gave some relief to the overworked crews and would allow them to relax a bit, but also allow time for more training under less stress. Okay, marginally less stress, he thought as he looked at his right arm. He was in replicator 1 updating her queue. He planned to check on the new blood as soon as he was finished. Hopefully they were easing into their rolls better without any lingering resentment over losing their ships.
A window appeared, Sindri. He smiled. Sprite didn't say anything, but he knew her thoughts. She didn't have to tell him I told you so. She was right; Sindri knew his business. The commander finished muscling in a new EPS conduit and then stepped back as mechs moved in to make the final connections. Irons nodded in approval. The smaller man took a break for a minute with his work crew to roll his shoulders and get a drink of water before he started issuing fresh orders.
He watched with approval as Sindri landed feet first on the battlecruiser's refit now that he was personally on site. The diminutive man made up for his small size with a big heart and one hell of a bellow. No one crossed him twice if they could help it.
They needed a dwarven smith, John reminded himself with a slight smile. He needed a smith to work with him to reforge the weapon he had, making it as deadly as it once had been. Possibly more. He had it. Not only was Sindri coordinating the repairs and refit of Maine, he was also stepping up to juggle the work schedules on some of the other ships as well as the factory's manufacturing priorities. Sometimes he butted heads with Sprite, but they worked it out.
Having the three small ships essentially mothballed allowed priorities to be better distributed to the remaining ships slightly. They didn't have to ship supplies to them either, which cut down on flights. They were also not burning fuel either. But it reduced his warship count to Maine, Apple,
the manta frigate the crew still insisted on calling The Heart of the Tiger, and Bounty when she returned. He had four Cobra fighters, with two more planned, but they would be hard pressed to keep them flying with just a handful of pilots and ground crew techs. Not to mention parts he thought with a pang. Another thing to put on the to-do list he thought. Along with making two or more fighters for the two pilot trainees, he reminded himself .They couldn't train much either since his fighter pilots were currently doubling as his shuttle and tug pilots. He rubbed his brow and checked the status board. The EPS conduit was almost done. Good. Once it was done he had another ten sections, two step downs, and then he could get into replicating the new reactor components for power room 3.
He had to cover the nine unarmed ships he thought, in no hurry to get up. He could leave the replicator to finish the work but taking a break to collect his thoughts was important from time to time. He frowned thoughtfully. He had to protect those ships. He had to. They were completely helpless against a raider, he thought again. They were going to be stuffed with equipment and trained people if he could manage it. And when Bounty returned that number would jump to twelve. Joy. He shook his head grimly. He had no intention of loosing anyone ever again to the pirates. No, not on his watch. He fixated that in his mind. Never again.
These people would be another nucleus; they were needed to create the spark. Between Antigua, Pyrax, and the people he was bringing in, his guiding hand and the heat from the threat of the pirates, he hoped to spark the fusion of civilization once more.
He couldn't help but smile at himself. Sometimes he sounded full of it, even to himself.
“Admiral, you are needed in replicator 2,” Sindri said from the overhead.
Irons looked up. “On my way, Chief,” the admiral said, settling himself as he headed out.
...*...*...*...*...
Irina Nobeki returned to duty a week after Bounty departed. She was all tentative attitude and smiles. “Really, honestly, I'm grateful to be alive and all, but enough. Can we move on?” she asked Mia in an aside as they walked down the companionway to the galley. “Everyone's all, welcome back and sympathetic. It's ...”
“Getting to you?” Mia asked sympathetically.
“In a way. It's nice to see that they care, but a little irritating too. I'm not made out of glass. I broke; Doc fixed me. See?” She held out her right arm, turned it about for Mia to see it, then pointed to her head. “Good as new.”
“Better even. The new head looks a lot more symmetrical than the last. Not nearly as fat. She must have let some of the air out,” Mia quipped, eyes twinkling. She dodged a mock swipe from Irina. She laughed, shaking her head as Irina's face puckered in a not quite glower. “So, all kidding aside, do you think you can handle working under Chief Sindri?”
“Why not? I've done it before,” Irina said, looking at the yellow caution tape sectioning off a companionway as they passed through a junction. She instinctively slowed her pace to look beyond. A work crew was busy running new cable. That was good.
“Does that bother you too?” Mia asked, catching up to her.
Irina shook herself and then picked up the pace once more. “Honestly, I don't remember any of it. I was walking and poof, I wake up in the infirmary in a bed wondering what the hell happened,” she said, shaking her head. She instinctively touched her temple. “I know there is some brain damage; Doc said she fixed it. Some memory loss,” she winced. “I don't know. Really, I just want to get back to work.” She smiled. “Sitting on my ass in that bed was driving me cuckoo.”
Mia laughed. “Funny, just about anyone on this ship would love to have traded places with you. At least for a little while,” Mia said, shaking her head.
“Yeah well, no thanks. Doc is nice but ...”
“Nice? That blow must have really hit you hard,” Mia said, looking at her with mock concern.
“Oh you!” Irina scolded, brushing her off. “I like the tape. Good idea.”
“A bit like locking the barn door after the horses have left, but hey ...” Mia said with a shrug.
“Me getting hurt is bad enough. I agree, if we can keep it from happening again,” Irina shivered. She hadn't any memory of the accident, but she had read the report. She'd been lucky she hadn't died. Her implants had kept her from dying but only barely. She'd suffered a lot of internal bleeding before help had arrived.
“I'm sorry, Lieutenant,” Lobsterman said contritely from the overhead.
“Not your fault, Ensign,” Irina replied, looking up and then around. The ship's AI had apologized several times since she had woken up; she was quite frankly tired of it and ready to move on. “Hey, you can see me? Hear me?” She turned in place with a raised eyebrow then lowered her gaze to the JTO.
“We've made a bit of progress while you were playing sleeping beauty,” Mia said with a grin. “The admiral did a bit here and there, and once we were out of hyperspace it was easier.”
Irina cocked her head digesting that before she nodded. “I see.”
“The noobs are getting their space legs, and the training is kicking in too.”
“Good to hear,” Irina replied with a nod.
“That includes me. I've set up a bot to monitor crew health at all times. I do not want a repeat of that. Never again.”
“Accidents happen. The important thing is to learn from them, which, you did. I'm just glad I'm okay. So,” she smiled, “put me to work.”
“That is up to Chief Sindri. But you are on the books as his assistant chief engineer as well as damage control officer,” Lobsterman answered.
“Oh?”
“Worried about the cut in pay?” Mia asked, eying her.
“No, worried if I can cut it still. I don't mind loosing the responsibility, Commander Sindri's a good boss, but he's a hard charger. This will be ... interesting,” Irina replied carefully.
...*...*...*...*...
“What's this?” Admiral Irons asked, looking at the folded clothing neatly stacked on the dresser in his quarters. They weren't his usual engineering uniform.
“Something different since today is paperwork, training, replicators, meetings, and software,” Sprite replied. The admiral picked up the gray turtleneck and held it by the shoulders. He didn't mind sweaters; he didn't get itchy. But he wasn't thrilled about wearing them while he was working. What Sprite had laid out was a more relaxed day uniform. Almost British he mused. “Sprite ...”
“You won't have time to get your hands dirty today. The schedule should help you behave and let Commander Sindri establish himself in engineering country,” she replied with a broad hint in her voice.
Irons paused then blew out a breath. “Have I been stepping on any toes?”
“No, not yet,” Sprite replied. “But he needs the space to settle in properly.” She made another note to find more staff soon. Not just bridge staff but personal staff. The admiral needed to settle back into his proper role and stop fretting about the little things. He needed to delegate more.
“To establish his authority,” the admiral replied, reluctantly putting the outfit on. At least it was relaxed, not tight anywhere. Clearly the AI had used his measurements to good effect.
“He's been down since being sidelined after Echo. Give him a chance to prove himself over again. The crew do not know him here so they need to see him in action,” the AI reminded him.
The admiral grunted. Sprite was acting as his staff, which meant as third ranking officer Vestri had not only the chief engineer's slot but also the XO slot. For now he was concentrating on the engineer's slot with the blessing of the admiral. He needed to land with both feet onto the maintenance and repair issues.
He could bump Nobeki, but the woman was young. Very young. She was a good engineer but not a great one. She was also still adjusting to her being back on her feet. No, for now she'd serve as an assistant chief engineer while also holding down the chief of damage control slot.
“All right, all right. This doesn't guarantee I won't m
oonlight and fix things you know,” he warned as he shouldered the turtleneck on then ducked to get his head through the neckhole. “And you know me, I am a dirt magnet,” he said, settling the outfit on.
“You'd better not!” Sprite scolded. He raised an eyebrow at his mirror image. “Sir,” she ground out. He cocked his head ever so slightly to the image, but she could see from his vitals he was more amused than annoyed at the scolding. They were acting more and more like a married couple than a senior officer and subordinate. Sometimes she wondered about Trinity. Being this close to an organic was breaking down all sorts of barrier.
The admiral glanced around the room then sat on the edge of his bunk to put his boots on. “Anything I should know about, Commander?” he asked.
“Situation normal, not quite fracked up as before but nowhere near perfect either,” the AI quipped. “Commander Sindri managed to nail down a half a dozen small problems and got someone to repair lift three. He has a growing list of parts he needs you to replicate though, sir.”
“All right,” the admiral replied as he smoothed the Velcro over then stood. He stamped his feet and wriggled his toes to make sure the boots fit properly. At least she hadn't saddled in with a fresh pair. Not that he could get galls or footsore with his artificial legs.
“The fleet is still making glacial progress on repairs and replacements. Now that we are in subspace the pace should pick up,” the AI said.
“It should,” the admiral replied. He stretched, moving his shoulders about. He'd gotten a short jog right after he'd woken up so he knew in general the ship's status. The ultrasonic shower had felt good, relaxing but brief. Now he needed breakfast and more detailed information before they dug in to the day's events. He left his cover behind and ran a quick hand through his hair to finger comb it into submission before he headed out the hatch and to the mess. Coffee and conversation with the crew awaited his eggs.