New Dawn (Wandering Engineer) (20 page)

Two techs lost their grips and
fell to the deck. "Okay folks, all clear," the communications tech
said from the overhead.

Molly nodded. "You okay
ladies?" She turned to the two techs picking themselves off the deck. One
of them nodded. “We're good!”

"Must have passed through
the rift, or too near a lost object," Jennie said, peering into the open
panel at the circuitry inside. "I still think we should work on the
hyperdrive instead of the sensors."

The engineer shook his head at
the thought of playing with a drive while it was in use. "You dummy, you
can't work on a hyperdrive in hyperspace!" Molly called, hefting her
toolbox.

"That's true. Besides, the
compression ratio is exponential in the higher bands, so we have to have fully
functional sensors and navigational deflectors before hand, or we'll end up as
plasma," the engineer interjected before Jennie could snarl a reply.

Molly nodded. "You mean
we'll be going faster right?" one of the techs asked.

"Yashi, the other
screwdriver, the one with the star head," a girl said. She turned back to
the engineer who nodded as he too turned his attention to the panel in front of
him.

"Yes, once we get to the
star system we will take the hyperdrive off line and give it an overhaul."
Molly giggled. "Yeah, we'll be at the next port three times as fast! Won’t
they be surprised!" Jennie grinned.

"How bad is the
damage?" he asked as the door opened and he stepped through the opening.
"OH!" A woman squeaked, trying to cover up. Her blouse was torn, her
right shoulder exposed. Molly was holding a blood soaked rag to it.

"What happened?" his
voice tightened instinctively.

She looked up. "We had a
small accident," she said and winced. She waved her free hand
dismissively. He grunted. That was obvious.

"Burn or cut?" he
asked. The girl shifted, trying to pull her blouse up.

"Hold still will you!"
Molly ordered. She looked back up. "Burn, plasma vent," she said
quickly. The woman grimaced and gasped a little, rocking back and forth.
"I said, hold still!" She looked over to him. "We were bleeding
a plasma line when a seal popped. She was nearby and caught the edge of it."
He walked around the girl, taking a look. The thermal image showed the blood
flow, Most of it had stopped. "Corona discharge?" He shook his head.
"Sorry about that miss." She looked up.

She was pale, eyes puffy from
crying. "It's okay." She got out, grinding her teeth.

The nurse bounced up and gave her
an injection. "There! That should help!" She pulled the injector away
and skipped back to the doctor.

"Ahhh..." the girl said
and slumped.

Her eyes became glassy.
"What did she give her?" Molly looked up concerned. "Not that I'm
complaining if it took the pain away and keeps her from fidgeting." She
looked over to the nurse who was bent over at the waist, looking over the docs
shoulders. Her tiny hands were on the back of his chair. She kept bouncing,
making his chair jerk.

His jaw tightened. “Local
anesthetic most likely. Doc is checking her medical history before he starts
cloning tissue." She looked over to the box near the doctor.

"Oh, that's the micro dermal
grafter you fixed the other day? Nice timing!" the doctor responded as he
chuckled.

"Yeah, and I need to get the
cloning tank set up. Doc had the nurse disinfect the chamber; if it's good to
go we should have it back on line in an hour," Irons said. He nodded to
the ladies and got to work.

“Almost done there?” He looked up
to see Molly looking over his shoulder, hands on her knees. He sat up straight,
and then turned to face her better. “Just about. We can't do much more without
more molybdenum, we've gone through the stockpile, and scavenging isn't getting
us enough.”

Molly pushed her glasses up.
“Yes, I heard that the replicator has cleaned out a lot of the supplies. We're
getting complaints from the purser.”

He grunted in irritation. “I
don't think we can do much more until we get more material,” he said as he
nodded.

“Well, we'll have to do something
about that in our next port,” she replied with a smile and nod.

With the guards outside the
compartment he took a moment to check in with Sprite. He looked around as he
sat down, nursing a drink. "Sprite, got a moment?" He knew she did,
she was designed to serve him as his adjunct, but she had been using an
inordinate amount of processing time repairing the ship's software over the
past several months.

"One moment Admiral. There.
Okay," she replied. Her image came up on the HUD. "No listening
devices detected," she reported.

He nodded. "Good to know.
Keep checking." He sat back. "So, what do we know about the remnant?"

She processed the data for a
moment, and then the holographic projector lit. The lights dimmed and a 3D view
of the galaxy spiraled out. "This is Federation space as we knew it,"
she said. She highlighted the sections of the spiral arm going inward to the
core.

"That was up to date when we
went into stasis. Now, from the Intel I've gathered, these sections are
dead," she said. He watched as stars blinked red, and then faded to out.

"How are you getting
this?" he asked.

"Based on cross referencing
multiple sources, including a few news feeds buried in the network," she
replied. He nodded in understanding. "Do you want to see them?" she
asked.

He shook his head.
"No," he answered softly. He knew it would be painful.
"Continue."

"All right, these are known
surviving worlds in this sector, the green are worlds this ship visits in its
circuit." She highlighted twelve colonies. “The nine orange ones are
systems this ship has visited, but are confirmed as dead.” They faded after a
moment. "The two blue ones are of particular interest, both are cross road
systems, but one is one of the few remaining industrial centers," she
said. He nodded thoughtfully.

"I'm glad some industry
survived. It gives hope for the future,” he rumbled. Her image came on; she was
wearing an electric purple gown with shimmering lights and chrome jewels.

"My aren't we fancy? What's
the occasion?" he asked amused.

She curtsied. "Just thought
it was time to change my outfit, a girl does need a wardrobe."

He smiled at her whimsy.
"All right, now what are these yellow stars?"

She turned back the chart.
"Oh very well. The yellow are stars with conflicting reports. The orange
are also conflicting, but at least two sources report the system is destroyed
or abandoned," she reported. He nodded.

"And the yellow?"

She highlighted them and the rest
faded. Data scrolled near each. "Well, some have some mention in the
personal archives of the purser as potential sites to investigate. A few are
possible cross roads that the crew has heard about from gossip," she said.
She shrugged. "Not much to go on," she said, sounding annoyed.

He waved a dismissive hand.
"Not a bad start. What about the white one?" He pointed to it.

"That's a major system,
apparently it survived the war and its population rebuilt. They are rabidly
isolationist, so we've little to go on except a two paragraph notation,"
Sprite replied. She scrolled it. Most of it was a warning not to go near the
system.

"Hmmm," he rumbled in
thought. He placed his chin on his closed fist, studying the star chart.

"Okay, what about the purple
ones?" he asked. He indicated the few purple ones. Each highlighted, with
a series of red circles spinning around them.

"Those are possible
surviving Xeno colonies," Sprite replied darkly.

He looked up alarmed.
"You’re kidding right?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I'm
afraid not Admiral, there's no mention of them in the archives. None at all. So
until more Intel data can be obtained..." she said suggestively.

He sighed. "Yeah, the war
may not be over," he said with tight lips and a grim look to the future.
He shook his head. "Great."

She cupped one florescent hand
around the stars, and then used her free hand to flick each away.
"Admiral, it's not all doom and gloom after all, since they haven't had
any activity in the past six hundred and ninety odd years, it may be inferred
that they are dead."

He shook his head. "Remember
what they said about assumptions and wild ass guesses," he warned darkly.
He reached out and spun the image. "Okay, so, drop the planets that are
not on the route." He watched as only the twelve were left. "Now,
highlight the agrarian worlds in green, and fade them," he ordered. She
did so.

Now, let’s see, that leaves the
two you mentioned before and two others... what about these two?" he
asked. He pointed to each. Data began to scroll under each.

"According to the purser's
log, Proxima is a semi industrialized world. Actually, they are at an early industrial
age if you follow the Terran pattern," Sprite reported. He nodded.

"But, I didn't mention them
because they're not a cross roads, only this ship goes to it,” she said. He
nodded. "Okay, good to know. Pass. What about this one?" he asked.

She highlighted the next.
"Gaston. Again, it's above Iron Age, they have a North American early 17th
and 18th century culture, a little less than the last, but they have immense
potential."

His eyebrows lifted in surprise.
"How did you come about that?" he asked.

"From this," Sprite
replied, playing a log section. He scrolled through it fast.

"Hmmm. Okay, so she spotted
a field of shuttle craft..." His finger followed the line of text... and
ah, okay, she noted the agrarian combines in the fields as possible salvage."
He sat back. "Gaston. Okay. Gaston, what were the other three?"

Sprite pulled up the planets.
"Proxima, Seti alpha 4, and Pyrax," she said listing them. He nodded.
"Curious, the Captain mentioned she is from New Dublin, but they don't go
there?"

Sprite shook her head.
"There's no reason why mentioned in the Intel I have gathered. It's a
space based colony, fractured into a dozen asteroid clans. All patriarch
leadership from the comments observed," she said dryly. He nodded.

"Bad blood?" he asked.

"I have no data to confirm
or deny, but the possibility exists," Sprite replied. He nodded again.

“I seem to recall some of the
crew mentioning that they were treated as slaves,” he mumbled. Sprite's eyes
shifted back and forth. “Accessing audio logs. Word search... I have it,”
Sprite paused to digest the new tidbit.

"Based on the overall gender
demographic of the crew, that may be likely," she finally said.

He nodded. "Okay. Highlight
the planets that the crew has come from, one dot per person." Most of the
dots centered on New Dublin.

“Okay, the doctor is from Seti
Alpha 4 right?" he asked. He pointed to the system.

"Yes Admiral."

“And these are...” He pointed to
another group around Gaston.

"One life support tech
currently in stasis, a Miss Audrey Hemphill, and five crew assigned to
cargo," Sprite informed him.

He shrugged. “Okay, what about
this one in Pyrax?"

"A Miss Rodriguez. She grew
up on a space station according to the files, and has extensive engineering
experience. Most of it small craft related," Sprite replied.

He nodded. "Good to know,”
he said with another nod.

"Admiral, are you in
there?" He looked over to the door.

"Yes!" He waved the
hologram away as the door opened.

"Sorry to bother you, I was
just going over the roster and we need to work out the grave yard shift again,
Candy is throwing a fit because it would mess up her relationship with
Cherise.” Molly shrugged. "Can you help?" she asked hopefully.

He nodded and held out his hand
to the tablet. "Sure."

She smiled. "Thanks."

"Captain says to get to the
greenhouse and see what's going on there," a young woman reported to him
over the communications channel.

He nodded. "Aye Aye."
He closed the channel and looked up to Jennie and the guard. Both were not
looking happy.

"Greenhouse, I think I
should check in with Molly..." Jennie said, backing up then taking the
corner at a trot. He snorted.

The guard glared as Jennie
retreated. "Great. I hate that place," she muttered darkly, nose
elevated.

He wrinkled his nose in distaste
as the hatch opened. A cloud of foul smelling air escaped. "Close the damn
hatch!" Someone called from behind him.

The guard gagged, waving her hand
over her face. "I'll just wait out here," she choked out, eyes
watering. One hand was over her mouth, head turned away.

He shook his head.
"Okay," he replied, not happy about having to go in either. He
stepped over the knee knocker and toggled the hatch shut. It closed with a
groan.

The lights were bright, almost
too bright. They bathed racks of plants that covered almost every centimeter of
the compartment. "Are you going to fix it?" a grouchy voice demanded.
He turned to see a short older looking fat woman coming over, wiping her hands
on a towel. Her arms are filthy, covered in dirt up beyond her elbows.

"Fix what the smell? Smells
like a clogged septic system," he said as he wrinkled his nose.

"Huh what?" She cocked
her head. "Oh that?" she asked as she flapped her arms dismissively.
"You'll get used to it sonny."

She waved to the side. "Nah,
I meant the computer. An alarm keeps going off. I had to yank the speaker wires
to get it to shut up!" He stepped around a potted plant. "Careful!
Careful! Those are my prized strawberries! Worth their weight in gold they
are!" He nodded.

He checked out the display, and
then turned to the woman. "The alarm is because the atmosphere is
contaminated."