A Pattern of Details

by James Matt Cox

  Garrett strapped on the exmap slowly but with confidence. He hesitated several times but always finished correctly afterward. After running through the pre-use checklist he powered the display pad down and moved it aside.

  "First lesson, Mister Garrett," said Morris, moving the display back into place, "The display is there for a reason. Use it! Every critical system reports through it, it shows information that can keep you from overbalancing and injury and it contains a hardwired datapad. You may reconfigure it if you wish but do not deactivate it. By tomorrow I'll expect you to be proficient in its use."

  "Yes sir," said Garrett.

  Finally satisfied with Garrett's grasp of the basics, Morris directed him to begin moving components to the pile of rocks cleared from the campsite. With two exmaps working Morris wouldn't need the rover's lifter to complete the zrock mixing plant.

  In theory creating zrock wasn't difficult. In practice the mixers, especially the small portable ones, tended to malfunction quite often until they had a lot of hours in service. The process involved pulverizing local rock to pieces ranging from pebble-sized to sand, mixing it with a flexible resin and adding an air-sensitive hardener. Morris planned to dig a holding pit for the resin-rock mixture and inject the hardener when they pumped it out for use.

  Once they had the components in place Morris slaved a safety override from Garrett's exmap to his own and they began work on the pulverizer.

  "Frontier technology," explained Morris as he and Garrett hooked parts together, "is deliberately made as safe, simple and rugged as possible. Note the heavy construction, ample and redundant connections and generally idiot-proof assembly. Do you think, Mister Garrett, that after watching and helping to assemble it you could do this on your own?"

  "Yes sir. Especially with proper manuals."

  "I tend to think you could do it even without them." Morris wrestled with a balky feed impeller. "Unfortunately, this kind of overbuilding can be a nightmare to maintain, especially at first."

  As they worked Morris detailed to Garrett exactly how each component in the theoretically error-proof machine could, in reality, malfunction and what to do when it did. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Garrett using the display pad to take notes; Morris hid his smile at this.

  By the end of the day they had the zrock plant assembled. Morris would dig the pit tomorrow and install the necessary plumbing but they could test it now. He attached a small tank of resin to the appropriate feed and they dumped a few pounds of gravel into the hopper.

  "You may begin the process, Mr. Garrett."

  Morris observed the other man carefully. He deliberately left something undone. Many Techs and 'prentices began their training with an obsession for detail which resulted in a commensurate tendency to overlook the obvious. Garrett ran through the powerup checks and hit the button.

  Nothing happened.

  Garrett reset the master panel, repeated the check sequence and hit the button again. Nothing.

  "It appears you have a problem, Mr. Garrett."

  Garrett reset the panel again and started the checks a third time, only to stop halfway through.

  "You are evil incarnate, Dr. Taylor." Garrett spoke sheepishly. "It would help if the main power cable was actually connected to power."

  Indeed, the thick power cable lay coiled on the ground just below where it connected to the machinery. The sensors had diagnostic power but no more, certainly not enough to actually run the machines.

  "We need heavy juice, sir," said Garrett.

  "So do we run the cable to the ship?"

  "It would be better to bury it but I don't think we have the time."

  "Correct," said Morris, "and incorrect, respectively." He pointed toward a stack of tools.

  "Cryonic!" Garrett examined the tools and shuffled through them. "Herc-sized hand tools. Looks like several kinds of shovel, too."

  "Good answer," said Morris. He selected one that looked like a cross between a cupped scoop and a farm plow. "This is a quick-trench, Mister Garrett. Observe whilst I dig halfway to the ship. From there you will take over."

  Morris first programmed the line into the integrated datapad and minimized it. He started digging, careful to let the suit do the work. Before long he had a solid rhythm going. Halfway to the ship he stopped.

  "Dr. Taylor, wouldn't this be a better job for a robot?"

  "Perhaps, Mr. Garrett, but it is good training."

  "Truth, sir. My turn?"

  Garrett started shakily and worked harder than he should. It also took him longer to establish his rhythm but eventually he did: a good solid step-and-swing which used leverage and momentum from a sidestep to extend the shovel stroke.

  "Very good, Mr. Garrett," said Morris when he reached the end of the line, "You may rest a moment while I lay the cable."

  Garrett, breathing heavy and sweating, nodded and waved. Morris placed the cable carefully into the trench, left slack at each end, anchored a steel pull-cable to a strut on the zrock plant and put it atop the power cable.

  "Why did I do that, Mr. Garrett?"

  Garrett scowled in thought, then brightened.

  "So we don't have to dig the cable out," he said gleefully, "Just grab the unpowered cable, give it a good pull and it'll cut through the ground for the power cable."

  "Correct! Observe."

  Morris handed Garrett a wide-scrape and began gently pulling dirt back over and into the trench as he covered the power cable. It took Garrett two minutes to catch that; Morris moved to the other end and they met near the middle. When they did meet the setting sun just touched the horizon. Morris connected the power, Garrett repeated the starting sequence and this time the pulverizer ground to a start.

  ***

  Morris got his first view of the base camp site the next morning. Though he knew what to expect it still surprised him. Using the rover Jackson squared the area, removed the topsoil and dug a good foundation. Markers gave reference points for plumbing, power and data conduits and other such infrastructure. That would go in place today and their 'bots would do most of the work. They had a decent complement of robots: two grunts to do the heavy work and five smaller turtles to take care of the details. The zrock plant had four dedicated turtles of its own, optimized for zrock plant operation.

  In total defiance of Morris' expectation the plant worked perfectly. Garrett picked up the puddle-sized mass of formed rock and swore he'd hang it on his wall. For their first order of business he and Morris broke out the plant's turtles, powered them up and ran configuration and diagnostics.

  "They do have hardfibered smartsystems," explained Morris, "but they're not really suited to massive digging. We need a pit, Mr. Garrett, four meters by five and one deep with a five-centimeter taper from top edge to bottom. Calculate it for me."

  Garrett looked at him incredulously. Then, with inspiration, he meshed the exmap's data system to the zrock plant's. It took him a few minutes to find what he wanted but Morris didn't mind waiting.

  "Heaven's flames," said Garrett, "Prepared plans for things I didn't even know existed! That and holding pits. Slib... I think 'LISA BC21270-14.7 Type-R' will work?"

  "Indeed it will, Mister Garrett. Any of 'P' through 'V' will and that's the League Independent Standards Authority, Building and Construction standards. Can you make it happen?"

  It took Garrett less than five minutes to puzzle out how to inform the turtles of their design choice and to discover what they could and could not do.

  "Do we have sealant resin," he asked, "and do we have enough?"

  "Indeed we do, Mr. Garrett. You handle the digging and I'll seal and reinforce the walls."

  Garrett nodded and entered the appropriate commands. The turtles began scuttling about as they made the necessary preparations. Morris hooked a larger tank of resin to the mixer and attached an extrusion forge. While they worked to dig the holding pit the forge would produce the slats necessary to keep it from collapsing.

  "This is total polarity, no bla
ther," said Garrett, "The zrock plant is actually helping with its own construction! Some of my old bosses could take a lesson from this."

  "Efficiency and adaptation pattern, Mr. Garrett."

  Finishing the zrock plant took the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon. By the time Morris placed the last slat and sprayed resin over it he and Garrett had quite an appetite.

  "We're going to need more rocks," said Garrett.

  "I doubt there will be a shortage. Think of the exmap practice you'll have finding them and bringing them back."

  ***

  After his late lunch Morris moved inside the hold to assemble the instruments they would put inside the prefab buildings. He'd just finished a rather large bioanalysis unit when he received an urgent call from Polov.

  Morris examined the smoking grunt. After a morning of observation Harkin turned the robot over to Polov. Satisfied with his progress, Harkin turned his attention to other tasks. Not long afterward the 'bot started smoking and shaking and before Polov could hit the panic button something inside it exploded. Now it stood, torso twisted and bent, looking quite pitiful.

  "What happened?" After checking for dangerous power levels within the grunt Morris pulled off its torso panels, one with some difficulty.

  "I..." Polov seemed at a loss for words. "I was doing exactly what Dr. Harkin showed me. I was keeping a careful eye on the linear load and torsion impellers and I set the power trips at forty-one. We were setting a waste drain channel when it went suborbital. The controls didn't respond, it started making noise and smoking and then it exploded."

  "Burned out actuators and transaxle joints, fibering gone, servo relays gone," said Morris, "Congratulations, Mr. Polov, you even bent the frame."

  Polov wilted, utter desolation painted across his face.

  "Not to worry, Greg," reassured Morris, "It's nothing I can't fix. No blather." Morris smiled at Polov's relief.

  With an impressive show of mechanical dexterity Garrett removed the bioanalyzer from the hold then moved the grunt inside, all without scraping either his load or his exmap against the hull. Morris sealed the hold and started the air filters and circulators. Before long he'd have a breathable atmosphere; not required but certainly helpful when he started refibering. Morris had replaced the actuators and two of the broken joints when his 'comm beeped urgently.

  Polov shifted nervously as Morris examined the cable and conduit feeder. Built something like a two-wheeled handcart the CC-feeder could place anything from a two-millimeter fiber channel to a fifteen-centimeter chemical transfer pipe, all with exacting precision to depth, alignment and angle. Eisley started working it behind Harkin's exmap. After half an hour of observation Polov decided to try using it.

  "... then it just quit," said Polov, "I swear I was doing exactly what Tina did. Then it just stopped working."

  Morris examined the inside of the unit. Most of the circuit strips, charred and melted, now dripped from the impellers and gears of the fine and semi-coarse drive mechanisms.

  "I can fix it," said Morris, "Unless you'd care to try?"

  Polov looked up, expression so pitiful that Morris felt terrible for his jibe.

  "These are setbacks, Greg," he said gently, "All to be expected. Don't worry about it, I'll have it done before dinner." He pointed toward Lace, now working with Eisley on an autoplotter. "Why don't you help Jena and Tina calculate the building foundations."

  Polov nodded glumly and walked away. Morris didn't hear what Lace said but when she put her hand on Polov's shoulder he perked up. Harkin walked his exmap over to Morris.

  "Poor guy's taking it hard, truth?"

  "Yes. He wants to crack that site so badly he can taste it."

  "No blather there." Harkin powered up the herc. "Jena will cheer him up, bet me on that."

  Unwilling to lose a hold full of air, Morris cycled the feeder through the much smaller airlock; an extremely tight fit. It jammed twice, once with Morris' hand between it and the door frame. After he maneuvered it into the hold he cleaned and sealed his hand. The air monitor showed yellow-green and reported the air breathable, barely. When Morris removed his respirator he smelled sulfur and the hold had grown hot. Fitting, he thought. He cranked down the thermostat and started back to work on the robot.

  Morris took a quick shower and hurried to the lounge. Kody 'commed him barely before dinner leaving him little time to clean up. When he arrived, late, he settled next to Lace with Polov and Eisley across from them. Polov toyed with his food and didn't even touch dessert.

  "Greg," prompted Lace.

  With all the air of a condemned man walking to his own execution Polov reached beneath his chair. He placed the autoplotter on the table in front of Morris. Even without seeing the black streaks on the case he smelled the burnt insulation.

  "Heaven's flames, Greg," said Garrett, "another one? What bit you?"

  Polov wilted at that.

  "That is enough, Mister Garrett," snapped Morris, "Mister Polov, I will expect you in the hold immediately after breakfast tomorrow."

  Morris retired early with the intent and stated purpose of taking a real shower. He aimed that at Harper who visibly and obviously ignored it. He did take a long, hot shower during which he tried his best to wash away the anger that blew up within him. Garrett's words stung Polov and might have done worse had he continued. He trailed steam from the 'fresher all the way to his seat at the terminal.

  Delroy didn't make him wait long.

  'Good evening, Specialist.'

  'Good evening, Morris.'

  'I mentioned your theory to Culle.'

  'Yes, he told me. When I told Lieutenant Harper she said we didn't have resources to spare.'

  'Pity. I'd like to see you proven right.'

  'What made you so mad at Ron Garrett?'

  He started to reply but pulled his hands away from the keys.

  'It is a very low probability,' continued Delroy after a pause, 'Very, very unlikely that three survey and colony rated machines, one of them a solid-state optically-fibered survey plotter, should fail in sequence when operated by one person.'

  'He had no cause to ridicule Polov that way.'

  Nothing appeared for a long time.

  'You sound as though you feel strongly about it.'

  'I do. Very, very strongly.' Morris considered his words. 'I don't enjoy seeing people disparaged for things they can't help or things they don't control. Accidents happen. Everyone makes mistakes.'

  'Even you?'

  'Even me. I try to learn from mine. Do you?'

  Another long pause.

  'Yes.' Then, 'Eventually. Good night, Morris.'

  'Good night, Spec...' What he read finally sank in. Morris deleted the last word.

  'Good night, Crystal.'

  ***

  Polov slumped in front of the workbench, silent and dejected, staring at the autoplotter.

  "I'm glad you're here, Mr. Polov," said Morris as soon as he entered, "I see you've noticed the broken autoplotter."

  Polov nodded.

  "Good. Fix it."

  "Sir?"

  "This is the autoplotter that shorted out yesterday. I want you to fix it."

  Polov didn't move. Finally he spoke.

  "Dr. Taylor, are you making me do this to keep me from breaking something else?"

  "No, Mr. Polov, I am assigning you this repair because I believe you can do it."

  Polov sat and donned holospecs but nothing else. Morris easily saw he didn't want to touch anything that might break. He decided on an alternate approach.

  "Let me tell you a story, Greg. When I was training in the Academy most of the other students had a lot more talent than mine." A mild stretch but good-intentioned. "I saw more than a few of them wash out and all for exactly the same reason.

  "The pattern was identical. They started something new, duffed it once or twice, got frustrated and then started making more mistakes. Not from lack of ability but from the fear they'd fail again. Before long it
spilled over into their other classes, their marks fell and they washed out of the Academy. Not because they couldn't do it but because they were afraid to try."

  Polov considered Morris' words.

  "I'm no good at this, sir."

  "Then learn," said Morris, "Everything you need is here."

  "But what if I put it together and it doesn't work?"

  Finally the critical question!

  "Then you take it apart and do it again," said Morris, "Until it does work."

  Polov considered this.

  "But I'm not you, sir."

  "No, Mr. Polov, you are not. I do not question my assignments, I complete them."

  Finally, after he failed to find a hole in Morris' logic Polov activated the holospecs and called up the repair manuals. Morris turned his attention to the still-broken robot.

  Morris had most of the 'bot's circuits refibered and replaced when his 'comm beeped.

  "Morris, this is Jena. We have a problem with the float. It died and we're a long way from camp. Can you come help us?"

  "Acknowledge and affirmative," said Morris, "I'll be there soon."

  Polov watched Morris inspect his work.

  "Not bad, Mr. Polov."

  Then to Polov's horror Morris reached in and snipped out most of the newly-repaired components.

  "You can do better, Mr. Polov. Once you finish this unit you'll be using it. I want it repaired well enough not to fail under any circumstances."

  "But..."

  "I am a hard taskmaster, Mr. Polov. I expect your work to be done right. Fixing things is all platinum and polar orbits but proper repair is an art. I expect you to be an artist."

  "Yes sir," said Polov.

  "Think of it as an enhancement for your resume," smiled Morris, "And while you're about it be glad I'm not making you build the unit from scratch."

  With Polov working again Morris checked the log sheet for the floats. They had two: a large cargo float and a smaller scout unit. Lace signed out the smaller. By what she listed she found some interesting terrain and flora and wanted to investigate it. Morris doubted Harper approved until he saw Rackwell's initials there as well. With them for armed support, and no doubt unhappy about it, was Delroy.

  Then again, perhaps not. Lace's target was reasonably close to one of Delroy's potential crash sites. Morris logged a request to Harper who approved immediately and ordered him to draw an overnight pack for the group.