by Chris Hechtl
“True.”
“You don't have to remind me. What is done is done. We'll fix it. But this ship lacks space. It's too tight.”
“Also true. Which is an issue. I have an idea though, Deianira.”
“The freighter?” He didn't want to get tied up in the civilian ships just yet. They weren't a priority.
“She's got cargo holds Admiral. Big ones. Partially empty too.”
“Draw up a plan. I'll look it over in a moment,” the Admiral replied.
“Already in your in-box,” Sprite replied smugly. The Admiral nodded.
“The problem is, there is only a finite amount of material we can access on the ship. At least on this ship and Phoenix. We can tear out systems on Phoenix and rebuild them, the same here. But we need to keep Bounty operational in case of need. Which is an issue.”
“And this system is rocky. We'd have to build equipment to break down the rocks on the moons and Mercury planets and then transport it to the ships in orbit. That's too complex.”
“We're going to have to sacrifice the badly damaged ships Admiral. Triage. You know this,” Sprite said patiently. Irons nodded curtly, still quiet. He'd put the idea out there, but fought it like any natural spacer. No spacer liked the idea of sending a ship to the breakers. He hadn't floated it past the crew, but he was certain a few were expecting it. “And I'm repeating the obvious again. I get that. I just wasn't certain we were on the same page.”
“We are. How are the replicators?”
“I think we can move the smallest one onto Bounty. If we relocate it in the small machine shop the ship has, we can cut down in transit time.”
“I was talking about Phoenix,” the Admiral said, frowning. He wasn't comfortable tearing apart Phoenix just yet. He judged she was the least damaged of all the ships other than Bounty. Once they had her fusion reactors back online. “Did we ever find her spare reactor?”
“Yes. It's dead lined. Scrammed. Do you want to reboot it?”
“I'm thinking about it. Or the main reactor.”
“Admiral, you don't have the time right now. The control hardware is shot,” Sprite said. “Or most of it. Work crews have replaced a few things, but they are out of their element with the project.”
“Understood.”
“Right now we're at the crawl before you can walk stage. People are settling down... getting used to the new life. The reordered universe.”
“I know,” the Admiral replied.
“I'd like to make them uniforms. They've done what they can, and they've found spares in the crew quarters, but... well...” Sprite shrugged helplessly.
“Do it. In between projects. Have them gather up the old uniforms that are tatters. Did they take anything off the prison ships?”
“Yes. But again, most of it is old. Old and worn out. Some of the sweaters and outfits really aren't spacer material. And don't get me started on the lack of skinsuits Admiral.”
The Admiral grimaced. That was one of a thousand and one things he needed to get a handle on eventually. They were going to need to go EVA soon to make external repairs.
“Work on it. Get with Holly or someone in the galley to be your hands and organic go between. It should keep morale up.”
“Hey, I know a few ladies who will perk up at new clothes,” Sprite quipped. That got the Admiral to crack a brief smile.
“No Federation uniforms unless they sign on and take the oath. I want to keep that distinction now. But I agree, we need to be more cohesive.” He cocked his head, thinking. “But...”
“But?” Sprite asked. “There is a but to all this?”
“But, don't destroy all the Horathian uniforms. We may need them if we're going to pull off the same stunt we did with the prison ships.”
Sprite thought about that idea for a brief microsecond and then smiled. “I like it Admiral, it's sneaky as hell and just might work.”
“It's certainly worth a shot at any rate,” the Admiral replied with a nod. “How is morale and the crew? I'm getting my feel for them, but I wanted your thoughts.”
“Well, just having functional food replicators, hot showers, and bed rest in a real bed has had a profound impact on some of the crew. Many are still shell shocked by their captivity and turn of events, a few still act submissive and keep their heads down. They are meek and passive, but a few others are coming out of their shells,” Sprite said. "I think they are letting their subconscious mind realize that they were free and safe once more. Once the full impact hits, I'm not sure everyone will hold it together.”
“Yeah, a ship load of trauma victims,” Irons replied.
“True. A few have had breakdowns when it hit them. People feel awkward and uncomfortable around them as they stared off or cried. It gets to others too, seeing it makes them realize and forces them to think about the changes. Sometimes it is too much to accept right away. It was like watching the sun come out for the first time in many years of torrential storms.”
“Yeah, it can be,” the Admiral, murmured in agreement. “We're still undermanned, but things are looking up.”
“True.”
While the crew decompressed Irons and volunteers had swung into action, tearing into the ships and getting them sorted out. A list was made for each ship, unfortunately a long one when it came to each. The crew was dismayed, but the Admiral was undeterred. He jacked into the computer network and swung into action.
One of the first things he had done early on was create another, larger replicator. Once it was complete he set the first to make another, and then had the new replicator get to work on making large components they needed. The second new replicator was slated to be installed in Bounty. Bounty lacked industrial replicators. He had the food replicators working on small plastic parts, but they were too limited to do more than that.
Those people who were too mentally addled to be trusted with a job that was critical, or even required a great deal of complex thought were given the menial task of moving materials into the Phoenix, and then finished parts out to the various work crews. There was some confusion over what went where, but the AI's were on top of it, giving directions or gentle reminders when needed.
“Can you go in here?” Sprite asked, pointing to an officer's cabin. From the sign on the door it was the Captain's cabin.
“Intel? Sprite this is hardly the time.”
“Humor me,” the AI responded. Irons exhaled noisily. He entered the quarters and looked around. The late Captain had had a thing for wet navy ships. He'd paneled the compartment in real or at least simulated wood. It was a dark grain. He'd even paneled over a strut that stuck out of the wall. There were a pair of LCD's embedded behind brass casings. At first he thought they were framed, then he realized they were meant to simulate portholes.
There were two doors on the east wall, and two more on the west. From the look of it, the room he was in was a living or wardroom. He scanned the others. One led to a steward’s tiny room, the other to a small dining room and kitchenette. He turned to the east doors. One led to what looked like a bedroom and the other to a full but small latrine. It had a tiny shower in it and a door to the Captain's bedroom.
He turned. There was a black leather chair and a table nook. A tray of food was on the nook. He started to get an idea where this was heading. He turned to look at a set of draws in the corner.
“Quaint,” Irons replied. He looked around and then scowled at an open draw in the chest of draws. It had some rather dark and gruesome instruments in it. The draw was overfull too. “No, I take that back.” He turned and noted an X built into a wall. He didn't like the look of it all of a sudden. “Sprite...”
“Go through the door. You'll find a bed. The bed is clean I had someone check it. Plug yourself in, and then get some sleep. Eight hours Admiral.”
“Sprite...”
“Admiral?” Sprite asked, but she stood firm on his HUD. “As your keeper...”
“Can I add my request to Sprite's?” Proteus asked.
“And mine to the Commander's Admiral?” Defender added.
“No!” Sprite and the Admiral said. The Admiral exhaled noisily, getting his center back. “You're all in on it?” he finally asked.
“Yes sir,” Defender replied. “You are operating subpar. And we also need a break.”
“Fine. But I'm going to eat an energy bar, get a drink and do my business in the latrine first.”
“Okay, just don't get blinded by the gold fittings,” Sprite replied, sounding triumphant.
“Whatever,” Irons said in disgust, heading to the tray of food on the table nook. “Commander, make a note to document and then recycle all that. And use a bot to get rid of it. The same goes for any other similar instruments on the ship.”
Understood Admiral,” Sprite replied as he sat down and started to eat.
<----*----*----*---->
“How are we on skinsuits?” the Admiral asked.
“We have some, but they are Horathian or ancient recycled things. Not many fit the crew. Also, with their present condition it will be time before they regain lost muscle and fat.”
“I see.”
“The Horathians however, have their own version of a space suit. It's a remake of the old suits from before star flight. Newly built too.”
“Interesting,” the Admiral murmured.
“Yes, I thought you'd like that. Mister Sindri is using them.” Sprite put an image of the small man in a suit. He looked comical. Someone had tried to adjust its limb length with tape with mixed results. “Yeah, not something I'd like to use. Make a note to get everyone a skinsuit.”
“Aye aye Admiral.”
“Training on using them too,” he said as he headed to bed.
“Aye sir.”
“Night Sprite,” he said climbing into bed.
“Good night Admiral. It's good to have you back,” the AI said softly.
Chapter 15
Irons woke refreshed. He had a shower, his first cup of coffee, then an energy bar as he scanned the morning report. He grabbed a coffee to go and exited his compartment to shrieks from a chimp a dozen meters away. He paused with a frown. “Can you keep it down? Some people may still be sleeping,” he asked.
The chimp stared at him, wide eyed and teeth bared. Irons sipped cup of coffee, noting the man down in a fetal position at the feet of the simian. His still sleepy mind ticked over as he realized he had walked into a possible physical altercation. From her look she didn't seem to be tracking to well either. “Coffee ma'am?” he asked holding out his cup.
She was still bristling but stopped shrieking. She looked at him quizzically, holding a metal bar in her hand. She looked down at it for a long moment. “It’s good. Not real coffee, but close enough given the circumstances,” Irons said. He noted the approaching medics and other personnel.
The chimp's fingers slacked as she let go of the bar. Holly came up behind her, murmuring reassurances that she was safe. The chimp hooted a few times, slowly relaxing as Holly talked soothingly too her. Irons noted the chimp was half bald, from the look of it, shaved or worse.
She turned back to him, studying him with her brown eyes. After a moment she hooted a few times, this time less hysterically. Her big expressive lips moved and then her eyes fell. She turned and slunk off, walking in a shifting gait. Irons saw it from behind; Holly followed her, urging people who had come to look to make a hole. It took him a moment to realize the chimp was knuckle walking, a sure sign of regression. “Not good.”
“I'll say,” a crewmember said, sighing in relief. “That freaked me out! I thought she was going to kill me,” she said.
“She nearly did him,” another said, pointing to a crewman who was being treated by Rajesh. He was battered and bruised, cut up a bit.
“He sure took a pounding,” another crewman said in sympathy. “What set her off?”
“No idea,” another said coming up. “I was going to ask you.”
“What happened?” the Admiral asked after Holly escorted the chimp away. He noted a crewmember had been injured from the look of it seriously. Simians were incredibly strong. Most people thought gene enhanced humans evened the difference out, but that wasn't the case sometimes. Some apes were just as proportionally gifted.
“Apparently he touched her in passing and she went off on him.”
“Really? Inappropriate touch or...”
“No, nothing like that,” the crewman groaned. “I must have surprised her. She's still having trouble coping.” He winced. “I think Charlene was in a bad place. I must have surprised her, set her off.”
“Oh.”
“She lost it.”
“That's going to happen. We'll need to set up something. A therapy for people to talk about what happened. Get it out. If it lingers it festers.”
“Yeah well, some of us don't want to talk about it, we just want to move on. Get on with our lives. I'm fine.”
“Okay,” the Admiral replied, not wanting to get drawn into an argument. “Not everyone needs it, but some do. Just listening to them can help.”
“Not me. I've got more important things to do than hold someone's hand.”
<----*----*----*---->
Sprite watched the blue haired woman stopping people in the companionway. She went twice to the mess, and then to the MPR. The Multi-Purpose Room was only half full. Apparently she didn't see whoever she was looking for. She growled in exasperation and then moved on.
“Someone you are looking for?” Sprite asked from the overhead. The young woman jumped and looked around. “Who's that talking?”
“Me. Lieutenant Commander Sprite, AI. Are you looking for someone ma'am?”
“I'm... its Waldo. I can't seem to find him,” she said, clearly annoyed. “He keeps disappearing at the damnedest times,” she growled.
“Well, searching the ship is silly. Have you tried paging him?” Sprite asked, knowing full well the woman hadn't tried.
“No, I mean, I don't want to wake up anyone,” she said. “I tried his quarters...” she grimaced. “I know he's around somewhere. He sometimes hides in a crowd. Or he'll find a quiet place to curl up with a tablet or something,” she said.
“Or sleep?” Sprite asked. A few of the crew had taken themselves off to sleep on duty. The Admiral hadn't called them on it; they were all worn out. He wasn't ready to lower the hammer yet she thought.
“Yes. It could be. But... I don't know,” she said, face flooding with tears. “He's all I've got left!” She said in anguish.
“Um... can you describe him?” Sprite said. She had a working list of people, but Waldo wasn't coming up in it. He hadn't made enough of a splash for her to recognize him, or the Admiral hadn't encountered him.
“Tall,” the woman put her hand up to measure out his height above her own. “Red and white shirt, glasses, wavy brown hair... Lean...”
Sprite did a scan of her crew files and found an immediate match. “Admiral Irons encountered him several days ago. He repaired the young man's glasses,” Sprite said.
“Oh he did!” The woman said, surprised.
“Yes. I believe Mister Sindri has him as one of the drive Chiefs. He's off shift,” Sprite said. She checked his assigned quarters. There were no cameras inside, but also no heat signatures either.
“I know all that,” the woman said.
“Okay,” Sprite drawled. She ran a quick search through all the camera feeds but didn't find him. She checked when he got off shift in the camera memory buffer. She tracked him briefly but then lost him after he met with a woman she recognized. “He met up with another crew woman, Miss Santiago.”
“Karmen?” The woman snarled, fists clenched, teeth bared. “That hussy? He's two timing with her?? That... that HUSSY!”
“Yes, Miss Karmen Santiago. They went off grid. Unfortunately they went into an area that isn't covered by the cameras,” the AI said weakly as she realized the woman was clearly furious.
The woman's yellow eyes flashed dangerously. “Why that bastard.
That trollop! They... they...” The woman fumed, shaking.
Sprite imagined steam coming out of the woman's reddened ears. She was clearly incensed. Now she wondered if her intervention had been a good thing. They didn't need a domestic violence incident.
“Please calm down ma'am.”
“Thanks for the help,” the woman growled. “I'll deal with the bastard later,” the woman growled and stormed off.
“Well,” Sprite said to Bounty. “That went well,” she sighed.
Bounty laughed. “I hope she doesn't cut his balls off.”
“I'm not... yeah, no, oh boy,” Sprite sighed again. Bounty chuckled. “Oh hush.”
<----*----*----*---->
Over the course of three short days, the crew settled down and the repairs picked up steam. The crew was startled by the rapid changes. Repairs to the lighting alone made the ship look different, no longer a hated prison, but the beginning of a clean functional ship.
Some still hated cleaning it, but they realized it was a necessary, albeit menial chore. Fortunately the Admiral had repaired some of the cleaner bots to make the task much easier.
The Admiral and AI were everywhere, supervising the repairs and lending a helping hand or explanation when necessary. Fortunately, most of the install was plug and play. The redundant systems on the warship allowed them to take a system down, throw it onto a back up, repair the primary system, and then switch. Irons planned to take advantage of the window that he had. He wanted to make as big a positive impact as he could on as many of the crew as possible.
The three days of sleep, food, and medical care went a long ways to bring some back from the brink. The Glenn's were fortifying the food with additional nutrients to help restore everyone faster.
Some crew still had nightmares and issues, but they were slowly relaxing and settling down. Sprite and Bounty did their best to start and listen to therapy sessions. The files were right; humans recovered from such trauma best after sharing their misery with others. Knowing other people sympathized and had experienced it themselves to various degrees, and wanted to help, helped them.
Charlene, the bonobo chimp that had the mental break down was recovering slowly. She was near catatonic, but at least eating and drinking on her own.