A Pattern of Details

by James Matt Cox

  "Is that a good idea," asked Lace, sounding unconvinced.

  "It is," answered Morris, "A find this rare is not something to be dismissed lightly. Even with the... the cost. It's also simple common sense. Once we're grounded on a habitable planet we're automatically in a better position than in orbit or in link. Once the League or Halcyon receives word of what happened they will have a corps of experts en route to us. For me personally I'd like to see a group of scientists with them as well."

  There! He said it. By giving Harper his support he supported her position and made is own known, though it cost him. It was rank politics but necessary. When the others began discussing Morris' and Harper's words she flashed him a quick grateful smile.

  After the meal they talked a while longer but not too long given the trying nature of the past couple of days. As he left Morris felt a heavy glare. Delroy, of course; she sat at her holocad, ostensibly looking down.

  "What?" As usual Delroy did not look up at Morris' approach.

  "Your eyes, Specialist, are also heavy."

  She stiffened but said nothing.

  "Is there something you want to discuss," he asked.

  "No."

  When Morris emerged from his wonderfully long and heavy shower he saw his terminal flashing.

  'Good evening again, Specialist.'

  'Do you really think the mission should continue or were you just supporting Harper?'

  'It is important.'

  'That's not what I asked.'

  'Yes, I do believe the mission should continue. Besides which fact it would be unwise to leave the planet once we ground there, at least until we've notified the League or Halcyon.'

  'Did you love her?'

  That hurt! Not that Morris hadn't asked himself a thousand times. He still had no answer but the question, and the emotional jolt it caused, churned at his stomach.

  'Does it matter? Is it important or just another datum for your bloody diagram?'

  'I want to know.'

  Disgusted, Morris closed the message module and privacy-locked his console. His gut sent him a fiery message. He tried to ignore it and read a while but to no use. Unfortunately he'd already taken all of his stomach tablets so he put on his shirt and headed to the lounge for more.

  Barefoot, Morris made no noise walking. Darkness filled the corridor and lounge save for the lights on the holocad where Delroy still sat. She wore an expression Morris had never seen on her before.

  Uncertainty. She hesitated a moment and entered something on the console. She tugged and twirled a lock of hair, twisting and worrying it. When the console beeped and gave her an answer she didn't like a look of sadness crossed her face.

  This time Morris approached her with a deliberate effort at silence.

  "Specialist."

  Delroy jumped. For a bare second her face was frightened, vulnerable. Then steel again.

  "What?"

  "Why?" Morris worked to keep his voice steady and even.

  "It's information I need." Cool and distant.

  "Then perhaps I'll tell you when it isn't so painful." He matched his voice to hers.

  That drew a reaction. Slight, but now he knew where to look.

  "Good night, Specialist."

  He dialed up a packet of stomach tablets and chewed two on the way back to his cabin.

  Chapter 9. ... And Fixing Them

  Morris dove back into the drive array. After a quick check of the systems still down he assigned Kody to repair the ones that Navy protocol would handle well. Though the midshipman still lacked confidence Morris trusted him. That plus Morris' easy accessibility allowed Kody to complete repairs properly and quickly. At lunch Morris apprised Jackson of the bioreactor status. With his medical experience plus his background with Survey and biology he could help with the thing and he agreed as soon as Morris explained it.

  "Backwash," said Jackson after checking the bioreactor's monitor pad, "Technically known as trans-boundary progressive toxic contamination. I can fix it but it will take some time."

  Morris started the flush cycle before he began work on the engines but by what Jackson said it would have no effect.

  "I can see you have the hardware fixed," said Jackson, "The which is good because that's out of my orbits. When will you be finished with the engines?"

  "Not long. I'm almost down to the polish now."

  "Polar. Do you mind if I drag in Jena and Culle? She's a ruddy good biologist and he's better than he brags."

  "Which he doesn't," observed Morris. Harkin had twin gifts for understatement and versatility. "Absolutely if they're willing to help."

  "Oh absolutely they will," said Jackson, "Plus I can get an accurate thermal assessment!"

  Morris shook his head and left Jackson to his task. With Lace handling the external monitor and manipulation Jackson and Harkin donned biosafety suits and began repairing and replacing the pseudosmotic filters, chemical feeds and other damaged components. That was not a task Morris looked forward to doing.

  By the time Morris finished the drive array Jackson had the bioreactor configured to self-clean, purge the toxins and reinitialize itself.

  "Phew!" Jackson two-fingered his nose when he popped out of his biosuit.

  Morris couldn't help grinning at this. Both Jackson and Harkin went through decontamination twice.

  "The sad part is," said Lace, "it doesn't smell any better when it's working right."

  Though still early for dinner none of them wanted to continue. That bothered Morris not at all; Jackson, Harkin and Lace had accomplished in one afternoon what would have taken him several. Now the thing only needed time to regenerate.

  Dinner conversation was light. Morris put most of his attention into consuming rations although by tomorrow they should have real food. That thought made him smile: most people and especially Naval personnel didn't consider anything produced by the bioreactor as real food. That tended to change whenever the bioreactors went down with stored rations the only alternative!

  After prodding Keyson throughout the entire meal Rackwell turned his attention to Morris.

  "For truth, Morris, tell me how much danger we were in."

  That question caught Morris off-guard. "Not insignificant but after the initial event it decreased exponentially. Why?"

  "It just seems to me that four personnel do not constitute an adequate crew. I'm curious as to how the League justifies this."

  Rackwell's comments rankled Keyson but she kept quiet. Morris hoped for a cue but she didn't give one so he decided to abandon subtlety. What Rackwell said did little for Morris' comfort and he allowed this to leak through.

  "For ordinary missions - and this qualifies - a Cuttle-class crew complement is more than adequate."

  "But how?"

  Morris marshaled his information carefully. Like a canine with a meaty bone Rackwell did not give up easily when he had an issue in his grasp. Nor, for that matter, had Blakeschiff.

  "First and foremost this is primarily a patrol boat. It isn't meant to fight on the line and its missiles can handle pirates or other criminals. Second, the League Navy doesn't tie up inordinate crew where they're simply not needed. Patrol boats carry small crews for the same reason the League doesn't patrol its inner sectors with carrier groups: efficient and adequate use of resources.

  "Finally, in the role of passenger and light cargo transfer a large crew would be a waste. It doesn't take many people to babysit cargo and passengers are expected to amuse themselves. This isn't a Posh-class liner and it isn't crewed as such. Cuttles are as common throughout the League as undergraduates on campus and the civilian surpluses are couriers or traders, depending on the engines. They just don't need a large crew."

  Rackwell either missed or ignored Morris' dig.

  "But see here." He simply would not give up. "What happens when the systems fail?"

  That did not feel pleasant!

  "That's my point. They don't."

  "But this one did."

  "A
component malfunctioned." Morris knew he'd need more stomach tabs. "The ship itself did not fail."

  Rackwell finally realized he'd gone too far.

  "I'm sorry, Morris. I didn't mean to distress you," he said with genuine concern, "But the... incident... frightened all of us very badly."

  The silence grew until Garrett finally broke it.

  "What exactly did happen, Dr. Taylor?"

  Total silence. Garrett asked the question gnawing on all their minds.

  "There was a surge in the power grid," said Morris simply. The words didn't hurt as much as he thought they would. "A coupling failed and sent a surge backward into the secondary network and forward into the drive array. The backsurge triggered the alarms and the forward surge took out the bioreactor and drives."

  "But..." Rackwell considered his words. "Why didn't the safeties work?"

  "They did. No critical systems sustained damage and we didn't drop out of link."

  "But..."

  "The drives and fusion plant are reparable," said Morris, "as is the bioreactor. That's what we spent the past few days doing. The link drive is designed with so much redundant safety it's almost impossible to drop out. Differential field collapse is even less likely; the thruster array is designed to blow before the link coils and grid for that very reason."

  Harper glared at first but her expression soon softened as Morris explained in careful detail exactly why the danger was so low. Even if the rations weren't tasty.

  After Morris finished Lace started talking about a lighter topic. That suited Morris since he didn't feel like talking afterward.

  ***

  Morris floated inside the reactor, not feeling well at all. The antirad tabs kicked in too quickly and it felt like breathing raw engine plasma. Several of the catalyst rings worked loose which posed no great danger unless left unattended. He had to shut off the gravity again then flush the fusion chamber and re-start the regen cycles. The loose ring shone eerily by fusion-light and strange shadows danced within the chamber. He carefully re-patched the connection he thought would last a hundred years.

  Morris froze mid-motion as he realized he wasn't alone!

  The other person, also clad in radiation armor, drifted toward him, carefully avoiding proximity to the starchamber. It held something; not a weapon since none would work here. It beckoned him closer.

  Morris' skin prickled and the hairs on his neck rose at the other's movement, familiar yet...

  Lydia reached out to him, now wearing only her cream-colored dress. He tried to speak, to warn her. She should know not to be here...

  As she started to fade Lydia held up her hand. In it...

  Morris sat bolt-upright with a sound half terror and half denial. Fear and panic washed through him and dripped off as cold sweat, the darkness suffocating him. Fumbling for a light he tried to calm himself. The light revealed the metal walls of his cabin and not the fusion plant and he sat among the scattered covers in his shorts, not antirad armor.

  How long he sat motionless Morris couldn't say but the strong emotions finally began to ebb. He gathered his covers, lay back and finally slept. The light he dimmed but did not extinguish.

  ***

  Lace sat alone when Morris arrived for breakfast the next morning. She wore an absorbed expression and Morris drew rations and sat before she noticed him. When she did, a concerned expression replaced the distant one.

  "Morris. You look like hades. What happened?

  "Good morning to you too," he said jovially, "Bad sleep night."

  "Do you need to talk to Jared," she asked.

  Harper, who had just entered, scowled sharply at this.

  "No. Not at all. I'm fine."

  "What happened, Technician," demanded Harper.

  "Restless night," said Morris, "Too many antirad and stomach tabs."

  Harper eyed him carefully.

  "Don't worry about engineering today," she said, "Midshipman Kody can handle things, I think. Go to the hold and help Rackwell and the students."

  Morris thought to object but she was right. Kody could handle the minor repairs remaining and Rackwell could probably use the help. Besides, by her mien Harper would brook no refusal.

  Garrett carefully placed the circuit strip, squeezed two beads of resin to hold it in place and connected the optical fibers to it. The module belonged to a sample analyzer and when Garrett tested it it worked perfectly, to his surprise. Surprise changed to chagrin as he caught Morris' look.

  "Very good, Mr. Garrett."

  Morris nodded approval without hesitation. Garrett had a delicate touch and a good feel for the repairs he made. Morris caught Polov and Eisley watching out of the corner of his eye. Since Polov looked up first Morris chose him.

  Rackwell left not long after Morris arrived. His presence along with Morris' made the students uncomfortable so he chose to go. Under Morris' supervision the students worked all morning. When he arrived they each presented him with a list of things that needed repair then looked shocked when he told them to pick one and begin. They worked slowly, of course, but with confidence that grew with each success.

  "Stop when you reach a good place," said Morris, "It's almost time for lunch and I don't want Ms. Lace chastising me. Again."

  Eisley chuckled at Morris' addition and she and Polov extricated themselves. Garrett followed suit a few minutes later.

  Much to Lace's dismay the students discussed the repairs they made over lunch. Eisley and Garrett worked mostly on Halcyon gear and Polov the League. They compared what they did and even dipped into the theory behind it. Working hands-on they all saw the patterns in the equipment they fixed.

  "Does that surprise you," asked Delroy, without acid.

  "It's one thing to say it," said Polov with respect but no intimidation, "but another universe entirely to see it."

  "Relationships and their patterns are always present," continued Delroy, "All the quantities you discussed are non-stochastic but still well short of random. Have you tried to analyze them?"

  "Umm... No," said Polov.

  "How," asked Eisley.

  "Try a ripple-trend metric or a gossip wave."

  "On a circuit," asked Eisley incredulously.

  "Why not? As Technician Taylor," here Delroy's voice stiffened slightly, "will tell you the processes are fundamentally isomorphic."

  Morris nodded when they looked at him.

  "Dr. Delroy is correct," he said, "And in case you hadn't puzzled it out she designed your crowd pattern exercises."

  Delroy nodded and smiled genuinely. Eisley looked at the other two.

  "We should have known!"

  The students kept Morris busy all afternoon. Their work slowed as they searched for patterns but Morris minded not at all. When Rackwell reappeared they barely noticed.

  At dinner Harper announced they'd be unlinking the next day. That set the topic for conversation but again Morris managed to talk little. It felt strange to think of their mission now; he'd begun thinking of F37A as the end of the journey and not the beginning.

  The flashing terminal after Morris finished his shower surprised him not at all.

  'Good evening, Specialist.'

  'What do you think of our students?'

  'They're doing quite well.'

  'Have you analyzed your information yet?'

  'No, Specialist, I've been busy.'

  Once again the graphic popped open with the same diagram.

  'Have you refined the criteria,' he asked.

  'Don't be insulting! Of course I have.'

  'What about your reference criteria?'

  Nothing.

  'You don't have a metric, Specialist. How can I reach a conclusion without a proper scale?'

  'What do you think of us?'

  'Narrow your criterion, please, Specialist.'

  'Our mission. What do you think of it?'

  'Again, in what way? Shall I come to the lounge and discuss it?'

  'NO!'

  The suddenness of
the reply surprised Morris.

  'Why not, Specialist? I can answer your questions more completely.'

  Nothing. Then the module terminated. When Morris checked he found the lounge holocad privacy-locked.

  ***

  Morris sat alone and fidgeted. Odd, he thought, he'd never fidgeted alone before. He sat, full from a meal at the Respite, waiting. Kelven and Jena had already left for the club next door but he doubted they'd stay long. Whether natural talent or association with Morris Jena had developed a keen eye for patterns and that fascinated Kelven.

  "Sorry I took so long."

  Lydia's smile still warmed Morris and the subtle sway she executed sitting down sent hot ripples through him. Something nagged the back of his mind as she cuddled up next to him.

  "I think you'll find the wait worthwhile." She placed a box on the table in front of him. "I had to get this."

  The ripples coursing through Morris turned cold. Lydia was gone!

  "It's something you should have," she said shyly.

  When she looked up Morris saw distance and the coldness spread outward. Lydia, the table, the room, all of them started to fade.

  "Well... Open it."

  The box was heavy for its size, then strangely light.

  Morris woke upright, covers flung away. He left his light on dim so the room wasn't completely dark and again he was alone within it. The panic-surges faded slowly but left in their wake a tiny seed of potential revelation. Morris lay back and calmed himself. He didn't sleep for a long time.

  ***

  The next morning Morris gobbled his breakfast quickly so he could leave before Harper arrived. A part of him chided his behavior as unprofessional but only a small part. Kody puttered around engineering, distantly heard as he worked at his tasks. Morris checked his list and started at the opposite end. Between them they should have the ship perfect by the time they unlinked.

  Morris began servicing the L-drive power net. Though disconnected he would not ignore it. As he worked the minuscule sounds prevalent in engineering hummed to him. This close to the system he could hear the subsonic hum of the thalyssium grid. No doubt about it, the ship was happy now. She hadn't been for a while but now that changed. Lost in his work, Morris felt more than heard Kody walk up behind him.

  Morris' spine chilled! It wasn't Kody he heard. The smell of lubricant and burnt insulation covered her perfume but he still felt her smile. He felt some urgency, though.