Tramp Wars: The Enemy

by Larry Roberts

  “Pure coincidence Captain and stealing a bus to get implants and the falling plate have no connection that I can see except that the boy seems to be able to see extremely well with his new glasses.” Pausing to think about something for a few seconds the doctor continued. “But what is strange to me is how the hell Mark knew that John was dying of a concussion in the first place. After spending 20 minutes cut off from the rest of the hold under a steel plate and then being told John was taken to the infirmary several times. He knew John was still in the hold. Not to mention John was a hundred feet away with a crowd of people in the way blocking his sight? Knew enough to fight his way off a stretcher push through half a hundred people to get to John just in time to keep him from hitting his head. The one thing that would have killed him instantly. I do not believe I or any doctor could have known any of that even if our places where reversed. It even sounds impossible when I describe it.” Stepping through the hatch he stopped again. “I think maybe I should give Mr. Collins a physical… stat. That boy should be half dead after all he has been through.” Then shut the hatch behind him. The Captain staring open mouthed after him.

  “Actually Doctor. You’ve got a point. How did our young hero know the cables where going to break and exactly when?” Thinking about it for a few seconds. “Did he or someone he knew have something to do with the cables breaking?” Hitting a com button on her desk. “Mr. Pardon. I want those cables that broke down in the hold checked for tampering.” Sitting back in her chair and blowing a smoke ring the Captain frowned. “And that little shit is still trying to get his stupid implants. Damn he is stubborn.” Turning to her First Officer. "I don't want our Mr. Collins knowing when Doctor West comes aboard. If he does not now he can't force the issue until it is too late. Hopefully we can avoid a few problems. Fact is the crew does not need to know he is even aboard and I don't want him here any longer than absolutely necessary for the Chief's operation."

  Chapter 9 Hanging together

  A steel deck slab fell towered Mark and no matter how hard he tried he could not move out of the way. His whole body seamed numb. No matter how hard he tried he could not move a finger. He strained and grunted and not a muscle would move no matter how hard he tried again and again.

  “Attention please. …Attention please….. Mark Collins report to ships infirmary immediately. Mark Collins report to ships infirmary immediately.”

  The steel plate dissolved as it hit him and was replaced by the sounds around the hold becoming abundantly clear. He could hear the people talking around that area of the hold, bangs and scraps as things where dropped or moved, drills whirring, air wrenches turning and even footsteps. As hundreds of people worked together as one. Shouting instructions and requests for help or for parts across the hold with other people answering if something else would do to get the job done. No one was worried about what to or not to dump. Everyone was worried about being able to get some job done in time. Whatever that job was. But Mark simply could not figure out what they were doing that was so important. Realizing that he was supposed to be helping them do whatever it was they were doing, he could not even open his eyes let alone move to get up and help.

  And then he heard the announcement again with orders to report, he could not just lay there. He was not a crewman. Just a civilian family worker and part time reserve Cadet because that was required of him until the age of 18 though he had simply no bothered to resign as most kids did on their 18th birthday. He actually enjoyed the increasing numbers of Cadet Outings he was involved in now he was over 18. But the last thing he wanted was becoming a stuff shirt stuck up ships crewman. He was still trying to figure out how he could do the job he wanted to do while still a civilian and not joining the ship’s crew. He had enough of that shit just working with them in the engine room, truck deck and on training days for the Cadets. But he still had to answer ships summonses. Even if he could refuse whatever they wanted him to do once he got there. He had to get up now but he just could not move. Realizing that he was paralyzed, Mark started to get worried telling himself not to panic as he tried forcing himself to move with shire will power alone but to no avail. Starting to panic, Mark tried to yell for help. When he could not say anything he tried to scream as desperation took over.

  “Mark! Relax. You’re all right.” Mickey said in Marks ears. “The drugs are still in your system. When you slept you allowed the remaining drugs to take over. In time you will regain control as your body absorbs them. Relax and go back to sleep, there is nothing you need to do. Relax Mark. Go to sleep. There is no place you need to go.”

  “I have been ordered to report and I can’t even open my eyes. Not to mention I am supposed to be helping someone do something. How the hell am I supposed to relax and go to sleep?”

  “Mark I cannot understand you yet. I do not have enough time and training with you to understand your brain wave patterns for specific words. Though I know you are upset right know. If you want to talk to me with your mind, you will have to help me learn.”

  “And how am I supposed to do that if I can’t talk?”

  “Since you have calmed down, that pattern resembles a question a little on the sarcastic side. If it was, say the word YES in your mind like you were talking without speaking. If not, try not to think of anything for a few seconds and I will leave you alone.”

  “Yes?”

  “Very good Mark if you said yes, repeat that word several times and then use it in a sentence. Otherwise remain silent.”

  “Yes, yes, yes, yes. So I have to use yes in a sentence? Ok yes I think this is a waste of fricking time. Ok?”

  “Very good Mark, now I am going to start a list of words. Please repeat each word I say several times and then use it in a short sentence.”

  Mark spent the next hour repeating words without noticing the time. Then Tom banged on the cab of the crane making Mark mind jump even if his body didn't as he slowly opened his eyes and look groggily over at Tom. “What the hell are you doing up here? We have been slaving our butts off down there getting things ready, filling and sorting containers and welding platforms onto the fronts and you have been up here sleeping!”

  Mark blinked his eyes trying to get them to focus as he dropped his leg out the cab’s hatch and tried to stand up. But his legs where still numb making him slide off the seat until he was sitting half out of the control cab with one leg still inside, staring at his knee. Tom stood beside the crane and started laughing at him. Realizing that only his legs felt numb, most likely from being propped up on the controls of the crane now that he could think while the rest of his body felt fine, made Mark embarrassed as he massaged his legs trying to get circulation back in them. “Oh go stuff yourself in one of those pipes in the garbage pile down on the deck. Just give me a minute will ya.” And then to himself. “Where was I? Oh yes the main power supply. Well with Tom’s help it won’t…”

  “The tractor lift’s power supply panel is located in the hold’s main hatch mechanical compartment. Do you want me to energize the hold’s crane rail system?” said the little voice in his ears.

  “Ya sure.” Mark thought to himself realizing with amusement that Mickey must have read his mind as a massive spark erupted from the third rail out in the middle of the hold sending a shower of sparks cascading down over a pile of scrap metal as the electrical arc crack echoed between the hull sides of the big compartment. People started running around in panic looking for cover. A second one fallowed from another part of the hold. “Hey! Shut it down Mickey!”

  “Sorry Mark but I show no amperage leak indicating a problem. The sparking is merely dirt and rust sparking off the power rails winding around the hold. Cleaning themselves.”

  Tom turned back to Mark after jumping at the sparking across the hold. “Don’t tell me you were waiting for your AI friend to turn on the power to the crane!” The arcing stopped and Tom sighed. “So now what do we do without power to the crane? Oh! I told Dick you spent the night with and then was playing with your new
girlfriends boobs down in K-hold. He wants to know if there are any cabins open in your dorm.”

  Mark gave Tom a dirty look as he slowly climbed out of the cranes cockpit. Walking a bit unsteadily using the rail as support as he half dragged one half numb leg back to the power supply box where the leads from the power rail entered the crane. Mark threw the breakers. “Oh don’t tell me, you told everyoneabout my new friend. She was just a medic comforting me after the... Ah...Incident.” Marks glasses showed that power was going out the power cables to the equipment around the lift. “The crane has power Tom. Let’s get the crane going.”

  “Hey it works! We have power!” Tom exclaimed as he saw the control panel lit up as he approached the cab. Climbing in and sitting in the seat ready to go to work. When he activated then pushed on the controls, the tractor lurched but then everything went dead. “Shit! No! It does not work! Now what? Oh and yes I told Dick and he told everyone about your friend. I don‘t think he believes me about the steel plate falling on you.” Tom turned the key off then back on and the control board came back alive but again when he tried to move the tractor it lurched and died again. The same thing happened when he tried the arm. “Shit! Now what?”

  To Marks surprise he could see the control electrical cables light up as the computer tried to fallow the orders Tom had given it before it died each time. “Probably the safety switches. We start tracing lines and systems.” And then to Mickey he asked. “Can you communicate with the cranes control computer to see what the problems are?”

  “If I had a remote plugged into the diagnostic port of the cranes computer I could. But by analyzing the active lines in and out of the computer and the remote equipment as commands are initiated by the control inputs I should be able to narrow down the possible problems faster than retrieving my case from your cabin and producing a remote. It will take me another hour to finish fabricating my first Universal Remote slide unless the case is moved interrupting the process.We should proceed without the remote at this time. As long as the control computer is functioning properly.”

  “Ok let's get started.” At Mickey’s directions (Including making him put on a safety harness they found in the back of the cab behind the driver’s seat) Mark asked Tom to try control inputs as he crawled over the machine tracing active lines and comparing them to schematics in the maintenance files in the ships library projected onto his glasses. Finding active hair fine lines with laser signals flashing through them to switches and motors but getting no response or the wrong response back through the line causing the system to shut down. It took an hour with help from his buddies and a growing army of friends scrounging sensors, relays, motors and other repair parts from the junk in the various shops and piles around the hold but finely the big machine moved for the first time in a decade at least, to cheers across the hold. Though it still took a while to make it operational enough to get the limited job he had in mind done.

  The whole time Mark could not believe all the help from across the hold he was getting simply to put up his club’s container. Well now two containers.

  Taking the controls after booting Tom out when he finally admitted he had no idea what Mark wanted done even though he wanted to drive the tractor. Mark headed down the rail with squeaks, squeals and sparks dropping down from the power rail across the piles of metal and none burnable plastic junk, (the ships Fire Marshal was a real prick about keeping burnable garbage out of the junk hold). The lift tractor quickly made it to the main hatch and the central rail junction turntable where he could switched to the rail leading down the side across in front of his and his buddy’s shop/clubhouse box. But the track turntable junction switch did not want to move at first even though he could hear the motors straining at the turntable ring, until Mark used the tractor’s arm to help it along and it finely slid around to allow Mark to drive the tractor down the set of rails running down the side of the hold in front and above the shop.

  He had to use the tractor’s grappling jaws (after switching heads on the end of the long articulated arm that surprisingly worked), to move garbage away from their container before he had enough room. Lowering the long arm with the container sized pickup rack to the deck, he rotated the long pickup cradle against the side of the box with the corner pins inserted into the corner holes of the container. Mark flicked the switch to turn the key heads to lock the arms cradle onto the container only to get two green lights while two lights remained red.

  It took seemingly forever to Mark,for Tom and half the people in the hold trying to help, to fix the locking mechanism before all the pins would turn to lock onto the container properly getting him 4 good green lights. The whole time Mark bighting his lip in exasperation while tapping the side of his seat 40 feet above not being able to help after giving up when he was ignored by everyone far below him as he tried in vain to offer advice to hurry things up. In frustration he looked around and noticed the catwalk grates attached to the front of the box and smiled. He had been wondering at the back of his mind how they were going to get into the damn box once it was up there and was thinking about cutting a hole in the side against the catwalk running around the hold but decided the platform they had welded out front of the existing hatches actually worked better.

  Finally the container box was locked on and Mark grimaced as he poured power to the lift asking the powers that be to help the old girl do her job one more time. The container box slowly lifted off the deck to raise up above the piles of junk with cheers and shouts echoing out across the hold. Mark was again rumbling and squeaking and sparking across the hold. This time he noticed that several of the containers below him had people welding walkway grates making platforms across the front of their boxes. It suddenly dawned on Mark that all the people helping him were expecting him to put their container boxes up onto the rails as well.

  He knew there was a good chance that he could get away with putting one or two boxes up out of the way of any cargo where they would not be easily noticed but the dozen boxes he could already see platforms being put across the front of was impossible.

  In front of the main cargo hatch he activated the turn table hoping it would work with all the weight he had attached to the arm. Knowing that if it didn’t turn on its own this time, he was in trouble since he could not use the loaded arm to push it around. To Mark’s relief, the turn table turned to align itself with the track that would take them down the middle of the hold to the opposite side above the junked tractor lifts parking space.

  As the tractor slowly made its way down the middle of the hold the growing number of people below watched and clapped and shouted as if they had never seen a tractor running cargo before. Waving back with a smile as the tractor rumbled and squeaked and sparked along, Mark kept trying to think of a way to keep them from putting their containers up and ruining his chances to keep the clubhouse from being noticed and left alone. Wondering if he could get away with sabotaging the tractor after his clubs two container boxes were up.

  Finally the container box was positioned in the parking place the other tractor lift had once sat at so many years before on the port side of the ladder next to the catwalk running around that end of the hold. Mark held the box in position while Jolleen and Tom welded the support pads at the corners of the box to the rails attached to the overhead. After they were done welding the easy to get at inside corners using the catwalk railing to climb up on, Tom climbed on up on top of the box using the catwalk hand rail as a ladder and crawled across the top of the box. Jolleen simply walked out onto the grating they had welded to the front of the shop grabbed a ladder from inside the shop and started welding the corner.

  With only about 16 inches between the top of the box and the overhead of the hold Mark watched as Tom stuck his head out over the outside edge to wave at him before turning to weld the outside corner onto the rail. Suddenly wondering if this was going to work. What if the welds broke as they have a habit of doing if not done properly? “Mickey, you told me when that cable and welded eyes w
ere going to break in L hold. Can you tell me if these are good enough welds to hold and not drop our fat asses 4 stories as soon as we step inside the box?”

  “Yes Mark they are doing mostly a good job though to be up to specks the welds should be one inch thick and run on both the inside and outside of each pad where they meet the rail instead of just the one side.”

  “Jolleen! Tom!” Mark spoke up loud enough for her to hear as she stood on the ladder welding the outside of the box pad to the rail. “We need a good solid inch thick weld bead and don’t forget to weld both the inside and outside of each pad please. We need both sides of the rail welded to the box to make sure it does not break the welds at high Gee’s. I would hate for this thing to fall while we are in the damn thing just because we were lazy.” Turning to Tom. “You hear that Tom? Weld the outside too while you're at the corner.”

  “Hell no! You weld the outside if you want it done. I am not climbing out there in midair 40 feet above the deck. I will get both sides in by the catwalk but forget this corner because I don’t fly worth shit. Besides the other corners should be plenty to hold this thing up.”

  Having had resent experience with something that should hold but didn’t, Mark decided to do it himself. Besides he was tired of just sitting no matter how much fun it was operating the monster lift tractor.

  "Hey moron! What the hell are you doing up there." Someone yelled up from the deck below.

  Mark paused, looking down at the man. "Don't tell me you are blind? NO? That means you’re the moron then if you can't figure that out. Oh thanks for the Numeric Drill Press. It was a steel."

  "Who gave you permission to do that?"

  "Who do you think? That we just decided to throw our cargo box up onto the overhead without asking someone first. Do I look that stupid?" The fact that he was that stupid was beside the point. Mark had found out long before that it was a lot harder to say no to something that was already a fact. Especially if it was harmless and not readily noticeable.