Tramp Wars: The Enemy

by Larry Roberts

  “You just leave those things to Doctor Wells and me when I talk to the doctor, Ensign. And I need a detailed report on your actions in the hold battle this afternoon. Before the day is over.”

  “Is that the Collins kid out there making trouble again?”

  Mark turned, stepping to the next cubical. “POP! You’re still alive. You're not dead!”

  “Of course not you whelp. Do you think I am going to trust you to get those torpedoes mounted and operational? The way I hear, you think taking a torch to a bomb is a good idea. Godstar help us if you decide to take a torch to one of those torpedoes. But then you would probably weld a seat on one just so you could ride it.”

  Mark hugged the old man and stood back. “I have to go to work old man. Don’t go running any marathons before I get back you hear.” Turning around he headed out of Sickbay and bumped into Dian as she was coming in, his arms going around her for a second to keep her from falling. “Ah sorry Miss. Ah Dian.” Letting go as he backed up to look at her new Kackie uniform…"Sorry I missed your commissioning. I was a bit busy Hun and I have to go now."

  "That is OK love. I have heard all about it and your meal on the Mess deck instead of the new Junior Officers mess. I will see you tonight at home." Leaning over she kissed him on the lips. "And you can tell me all about your day." Slapping him on the butt she shoved him down the passageway. Turning Mark slowly headed out, looking back at Dian several times as he walked out.

  “Mr. Collins you are out of uniform.” Mark heard the Captain as he walked through the hatch.

  The Captain turned to the Master at Arms. “Since we have Mr. Collins CREW here now, I may as well talk to them and get this mess cleared up. I will interview them one at a time after each of them have seen the young lady. I can use one of the doctor’s exam rooms. Don’t let any of them leave before we are done in case I have more questions from what the others say. And then we will start with the marines.” The Captain went to talk to crewmen Mindy. Assuring her that she would be just fine. Thinking Mark was safely tucked away in the engine room. While the resent animosity of the Chief towered the new temporary engine room Commander guarantied Mark would do no harm. He wondered about what harm the Chief could do to the new boot ensign. But then if he spent most of his time writing the reports that needed to be written he would have little time to get into trouble before he had time to talk some sense into the Admiral and straighten things out.

  Looking down at the once beautiful young girl that would never see again he wandered if the ships AI had finely made a mistake; naming a one day wonder as Commander of Engine Room 3 period, let alone during such a critical time when it was starting to look like the ship may never lift again because the Engine room morons could not or would not do a supposedly simple engine upgrade. He thought about having the company that produced the kit send in its crews to do the work but they did not have enough credits to pay for it. Especially with all the other upgrades the authorities are making them do before giving them a pass port to leave the Empire. The fake pot was just that, all fake. No. The Galactic Engine representative had assured her that her engine room crew would have no problems installing the overhaul up grades since they had been overhauling the engines more and more often as they slowly wore themselves completely out beyond anyone’s ability to repair them.

  Chapter 16 Engine Room #3 (MP-3) New Commander?

  Just below the bottom cargo hold or L-hold. The elevator splits into two shafts. One curved in fallowing the inner hull as it narrowed from the ship’s full inner hull diameter of 320 feet down to the hundred foot diameter of the propulsion rooms’ a dozen decks below. This allowed the thrust of the engines to be transferred up the curving inner hull to the outer hull and the cargo decks and the rest of the ship without wasting structure and adding weight. The second elevator shaft continued to drop down the outer hull all the way down to the lowest deck housing the personnel locks and suiting rooms for the ship’s original 3,000 crew and passengers... The fact that there were over 6500 bodies on the ship (fare more than what the ship was designed for), said all you needed to know about everyone getting off the ship in an emergency. Though there were thousands of cheap single layered short term emergency suits, no one was stupid enough to trust their lives to one of the book sized fold out suits in a pouch unless it was a choice of the flimsy suit or death.

  The decks directly above what was called the suit or Quarter deck, had the engine rooms grouped inside the hundred foot diameter core reaching up 50 feet or 6 decks with the truck maintenance and parking decks ringing the Engine rooms like a donut reaching up three decks. A series of huge water tanks circled the next four donut decks above the truck deck where recycled water was stored between high use times as the recyclers fought to keep up with the demands of twice the crew family the ship was designed for and as a reserve. The tanks also had served as unofficial swimming pools for the last 20 years.

  The decks between the engine rooms and truck/water decks and the lowest cargo hold, were used for fuel and consumable’s, storage warehouse compartments, ship’s auxiliary equipment compartments, food and air production in roughly a square mile of high production hydroponic trays where the plants started as seeds at one end and ended in a full grown crop at the other end in weeks instead of months, meat vats that included real livestock and then production and maintenance shops scattered around in every available unused or awkward compartment.

  Mark stepped off the elevator strait into the passage way that ran from one side of the inner core hull between two of the engine rooms to the central control room. Another passageway ran from the other side of the control room out between the other two engine rooms to the inner hull on the other side and the chain room that ran up the inner hull to the outer hull and on up to the Mess decks on that side. There was no chain going up or down the outer hull in this section. Just the ladder and its straight shot run all the way down the outer hull.

  The Central Engineering Control Room had ports and hatches looking and leading out into each of the four engine rooms circling it. Each engine room had a single propulsion engine towering from below the main deck to some 50 feet up into the overhead. The bottom of the engine exhaust tube ran down through the deck and out the bottom of the ship some 20 feet farther down through the ship’s thick heat shield for reentering a planet’s atmosphere though the engines did 99% of the work slowing the ship down in time to land. The ships weight to heat shield area was way beyond frictions ability to slow much of anything down unless the air density on the planet was close to water. The fact that movie and video show writers had been using oceans and big bodies of water to land doomed ships into for millenniums did not make it reality. The central control room was at the lower end of an inner armored column with offices on the first 3 decks above the main engineering decks and storage and workshops on the decks above that. The passageways leading out between the engine rooms on each side had used the space above and below them for long narrow auxiliary rooms that included main electrical panels, power generating, power storage plasma bottles and then a series of maintenance ships and storage rooms stacked above to the top of the engineering core.

  Stepping into the central control room Mark stood there waiting for the storm. At least he felt better dressed in his new plain unadorned kakis with only his ensign tabs and name plate on as he waited trying to figure out what to do. A half dozen officers and enlisted petty officers worked at their jobs controlling the power and everything else that was needed to keep a ship alive even in port though engine maintenance was the prime job for the moment; ignoring Mark. Men and woman he had worked under and taken orders from for years and respected. Though now that he thought about it, some mostly tolerated or took pity on him as being foisted on them for his handicap. “Ah... Has anyone seen the Chief?” Mark stood there and waited. And waited. And no one answered. Finely Mark turned and stepped onto the one man fast elevator that ran up to the office decks above the control room. Getting off at the 1st deck after the h
alf second trip, he walked to the Chiefs office and knocked. No one was at the aids desk outside the Chief office which was normal in port.

  “Come in!” Came the rough voice from the other side of the door.

  Opening it Mark walked in and saluted. “Ensign Colin’s reporting for duty Chief sir. I have as you probably already know, been assigned Command of Main Propulsion 3 Sir.”

  “Oh you!” said the Chief when Mark started talking. Then when Mark had finished he just sat there doing paper work. And Mark waited. And waited. Noticing for the first time that the Chief had his screen sit on large high contrast print as were the printouts laying on his desk. Most of which dealt with the new upgrade kits for the engines. His finger going over and over a section of schematics showing one of the sections of the engine to be upgraded. Frustration plastered all over his face though Mark did not understand why. Deciding he was wrong about his interpretation. It was too crazy a thought for the Chief to be confused about anything. “Sir. Do you have any orders for me sir?”

  The Chief stopped working but did not look up. Finely the Chief said. “Don’t get comfortable you aren’t going to be commanding long.” He spit out. “Now get the hell out of and stay out my sight!”

  Mark closed the door behind him as the Chiefs Aid came in and sat down at the desk against the bulkhead next to the door to the Chief's large office who ignored him as well. Then Mark road up through the next deck. The offices for MP 1 and MP2 sat on that deck. Riding up one more deck where he knew the offices for MP 3 and MP 4 were located at. Stepping off he entered the port side office labeled MP-3, finding an aid sitting at a small desk in the corner. Another slightly bigger desk sat against the main bulkhead facing the door. The Aid did not look familiar and then realized that he was a bosom Mate and not even a tech.

  Looking up the Aid jumped up and saluted. “First Class Boson Mate Spencer reporting for duty sir. I am your aid. Sir.”

  “Ok I am glad to meet you Boson.” Sitting at the desk with his name on it he picked up the name plank. “Why do I have an aid?” Looking at the man who looked to be at least 50 years old if not more.

  “Actually sir. I am MP-3’s aid sir. You just happen to be the Commander Sir.”

  “OK… Maybe you can explain how a boot ensign has the posting of a full lieutenant Commander. Especially since the ship is nut to butt with officers.”

  “I could not tell you sir. As I am not an officer let alone the Captain.” Reaching out he closed the door then turned back around leaning closer to Mark and whispered. “I have been here a long time and worked in personnel for a while. But most officer assignments are made by the computer, the A.I., The Admiral, sir.” Leaning back he continued. “Of course it is officially just suggestions made by the computer but I have yet to hear of the Captain ever over ruling or vetoing it.”

  “You have got to be fucking kidding but that makes sense to what I just heard but it still does not answer why.”

  “No sir. You are actually quiet qualified and even the right age sir. Though you should be a Lieutenant by now. I bet that they have been trying to get you to take the oath since you were 18 sir.”

  “Na, not with my glasses and the last thing I wanted to be is an officer, the Captain gave me an ultimatum so I didn’t have much of a choice now though.”

  “Well sir. Welcome aboard.” Standing up he opened the door. “A note showed up from the Officers Taylors saying that the rest of your uniforms where ready. I will go pick them up for you sir.” Half out the door he turned around. “I can see after that little mess in the hold that you are going to be a hard one on uniforms so I am going to order you a new second set to replace your battle damaged original. Take a few minutes and sign the reports and requests for MP-3 sir. I will have your new dress uniforms in your cabin in an hour.” He started out the door and stopped. “And sir. I want to thank you for us enlisted men for getting at least the junior officers moved to the tween deck cabins. It has bothered a lot of the crew for a long time. That is those of use that knew what luxury even the ensigns have lived in for so long.” Then disappeared.

  Mark sat there for several minutes wondering what to do. Finely deciding he should do what the boson and the Captain asked and take care of the reports and look up who was working for him and what jobs was on the repair list for MP-3 though with the upgrades making a large portion of the old engine junk he could not see what repairs were needed until the upgrades were in and oh yes fill out a report on what happened in the hold. Only to find the computer locked out. “Cute! I bet the aid knows. Mickey can you get him on the phone for me?”

  “Yes Mark calling now.”

  “Hello.”

  “Yes this is Ensign Collins. I can’t get into the computer. It is locked out. Do you have the pass word for me?”

  “Sorry Sir. You will have to get that from the Chief Engineer Sir. I cannot get into the command system sir. I am limited just to my computer. Is there anything else I can do for you sir?”

  “No, that will be all. Thanks.” Drumming his fingers on the desk he thought about asking the Chief for the pass word and immediately cringed. No matter how he asked the question in his mind, each time the response got nastier and more vicious in the rejection. The thought of even more vile rejections form the person he most respected for so many years simply hurt too much. “Mickey. Can’t you break into the system and get me the password?”

  “No Mark. What little I have been able to access from the ships wireless system and what the aid has said about the ship picking the officers leads me to believe with a 98% probability that a very sophisticated AI is in control of ships basic operation’s and that it is well isolated from outside attack. If I try from the outside it will label me as an intruding virus and it could do considerable damage to me or I would have to damage it and possible degrade the ability for it to properly operate the ship safely. But with this new information and the legal requirement to provide you with access to the command system you should be able to legally plug my remote strait into the ships computer core banks. I think.”

  “Oh shit Mickey! And just who do I ask for permission and how. And what happens when they find out I have you and decide they need you more than I do? I am left blind and you get put back on someone’s shelf.”

  “Then you will just have to plug me into the core without anyone finding out.”

  “Ya sure Mac. Why don’t’ you just have me go out and rob the Spaceport bank while you're at it. I have only been in the computer core a couple of times on class walkabouts and it is a monster and surrounded by a hundred technicians in an armored Vault and you want me to find someplace I can leave a remote plugged into it that won’t get found and pulled the first time the cleaning crew comes in to dust if by some miracle the Computer Chief does not spot it 5 minutes after we leave.”

  “No Mark. Plugging in a remote for 10 or 15 seconds should allow me to penetrate the system and allow me to access the system from any port. Though having a remote permanently attached to the core has definite advantages if I can come to friendly terms with the Ships AI. But that would take longer. Several minutes at least.”

  “For just a few seconds you say? Well maybe that would not be that hard to do.” Leaving his office Mark had to turn back at the door to make sure his name really was on the desk and as he closed the door he realized his name was also on the door. Smiling he decided a swing through his engine room was a good idea.

  On the main engineering deck Mark walked over to the MP-3 hatch. While the other hatches to the engine rooms had a list of names next to each hatch starting with the commanding officers at the top and the lieutenants, lieutenant jgs’, ensigns and then the enlisted ratings ranked down with the part time Cadets at the bottom where he used to be only one day before on MPS 1’s crew list. The MP-3 hatch was missing the commanding officers name at the top. Shaking his head he noticed a broken name plank in the trashcan. “Cadet Col” etched into one broken part. Mark started to open the hatch and then stopped. The row
of half a dozen control desks for various sections of the engine lined up to both sides of the hatch covered the #3 MPS’s quarter of the control room. MPS’s main control console was about 6 feet directly out from the hatch with plenty of room to walk from the hatch past the section control consoles and out into the control room to the main central control console with ease. Looking down the name list he realized that he had had problems with just about every one of the crew listed and that most of them had been assigned to the other engine rooms the day before. Shaking his head. No not problems, he had been out right terrorized by most of them. From lieutenant Johnson who used to be in temporary Command of MP 3 for the last year who had treated him with contempt and a waste of time even after he had to admit Mark could fix just about anything better than most if given the time if not in half the time. Down the list of 2 lieutenants JG’s, the 4 Ensigns, and most of the 1st, 2nd and 3rd class Machinist Mates who loved to boss around an older than normal Cadet working half days. While the Cadets listed had looked up to him for help most of the time, he suddenly remembered all too well that these 6 where the more nasty, lazy or just plain inept of the bunch assigned to the engine spaces.

  Taking a deep breath, Mark closed his eyes as he felt like he had been dealt a damn rotten hand from the bottom of the deck and prayed for help and divine intervention, having no one else to look too as sweat broke out on his brow. Then he started pulling name tags off the wall to MP-3.