Wandering Engineer 6: Pirates Bane (30 page)

“Definitely officer material with that sort of initiative,” the Admiral
murmured in appreciation. He nodded. “Marine, though ship's security might work
too.”

“Gustov is a good leader. But he does like to get his hands dirty
sir,” Sprite replied absently, most of her concentration on more important
things.

“Understood.”

Nurse Holly Glenn reported that most of the injured would recover
in a day or two, but the limited facilities prevented necessary repairs to the
disruptor burned crewman.

“It'd be nice if you'd send me Enric. I heard he has some
disruptor burns too. I bet they hurt like hell; the anesthetic Rajesh used on
him is probably wearing off right about now. Can you send him here? Or am I
going to have to come up there and get him?” She demanded. Rajesh said he's the
only one we haven't treated,” she said pointedly.

“Understood ma'am. We'll send him down,” the Admiral said,
looking at the injured man. Enric had the grace to blush, looking at his arm.

“I sort of forgot with everything going on,” he said, gingerly
moving his arm.

“Well, now they can go fix you up. And while your off, get some
food and at least four hours of sack time,” Irons said.

“But what about...” Enric waved to his station.

“I can watch it from here,” Irons replied with a smile. “You've
done good work. I'm proud of you. Now go get that arm looked at.”

“Yes sir,” Enric said, getting up with a sigh. He walked out with
only a brief look over his shoulder.

“He's on his way to you now ma'am,” Irons said over the channel.

“Very well. Thank you,” Holly replied.

“No, thank you for reminding me. We've been so busy,” the Admiral
grimaced.

“Good to know even you need reminding,” Holly said. “Out here.”

<----*----*----*---->

Nata'roka pinged Sprite. The AI caught the ping and turned to
check on the alien. She was thoroughly distracted, but apparently the AI was
the only person the Ssilli could currently contact.

“Yes Ma'am?” she asked. “Sorry, I'm a little distracted right
now.”

“What's going on?” the Ssilli asked patiently.

“Oh, you haven't been briefed?” Sprite asked.

“No. I'm floating in a tiny tank in a cargo bay,” the alien
responded. “I don't get out much.”

“Sorry,” Sprite replied, working on a tangled code. It was a mess,
feeding back on itself. There were some recursive algorithms there she didn't
like. She set up a script bot to do a line comparison with code samples she had
on file and then briefly returned her attention to the organic. “We've taken
the ship.”

“We?” The Ssilli responded, now thoroughly confused. “Who are we?
And take the ship where?”

“Taken as it retaken. Mutiny. Only she was a Federation ship
first, so we just took her back. Sorry, I did introduce myself before.”

“And I still reserve judgment on if you are some sort of Horathian
trick.”

“I'm not. I am an AI. Lieutenant Commander Sprite, Federation
Navy,” Sprite replied, sending the Ssilli her ID.

“The navy?” the alien asked. “They said... you can't be!”

Sprite checked the bot, sighed internally at the flagged code it
was finding wrong, and then terminated the comparison. She pulled the code
module from her storage and then ripped out Bounty's code and replaced it.
“There,” she said. “And there,” she said, setting up another script bot to
reconnect the module's variable strings to other modules. She wrote out a quick
script bot to sew up any loose ends and then set the project aside momentarily.

“The navy may be down but we're not quite out. Fleet Admiral Irons
has liberated the prisoners on the ship and with my help; we've retaken the
Bounty. We're working on cleaning up and damage control right now ma'am. I'm
working on the ship's AI and the ship's computer net.”

“Oh,” the Ssilli replied thoughtfully. Sprite fed the alien
multiple camera views of the ship, and then wrote a camera control program and
set it up for the alien to use. “Oh! Thank you! I think,” the alien replied.

“You sound if you aren't sure,” Sprite teased. She loaded the
intro and history files she had created, plus the propaganda piece and linked
them to a play later icon on the alien's desktop.

“Oh, what's this?” the alien asked.

“Something for you to watch if you wish. Since you sound bored.”
She couldn't believe a sapient could remain sane while being trapped in a tiny
container and tortured for years. Just being trapped with little or no input
would drive her over the brink.

“Oh,” the alien said. She hit play and then stopped it after a minute.
“Interesting. Can I ask you a favor though?”

“Yes?” Sprite asked. She traced another red tangle of code. It was
twisted, with broken jagged pieces sticking out like barbs.

“I am thrilled and all, but um, if you are the navy, what now? And
um, can you get someone to flush my tank? It is really dirty. I've got too much
ammonia and other things in it. If it's not too much trouble.”

Sprite turned a camera on and checked. The tank was a filthy
brown; dribbles of green sludge we
re everywhere. The Ssilli was old, and in bad condition. Her
normally rubbery skin was patched with sores and infections. Her chrometophores
weren't working. She seemed listless in the tank, just floating there, fins and
tentacles coiled under her. Not a good sign, she thought, now concerned. “Oh
my, I don't know how you can swim in that... crap.”

“You'd be surprised what you get used to if you have to,” the
Ssilli replied.

“Well, I'll see if we can get someone on that ma'am, right away,”
Sprite vowed, signaling a life support tech to get on it.

“Thank you,” Nata'roka replied quietly. “I'll leave you to more
important things and just sleep,” she murmured.

“I promise, we'll get to you ma'am, just hang in there,” Sprite
said.

<----*----*----*---->

Kinja had managed to control her grief for her Captain’s death
and had returned to engineering. She had the engineering watch rotation worked
out with Sindri. For now the two of them were splitting the Chief engineer's
seat, each taking a twelve-hour shift.

“What the hell are we doing here? Just floating...” Caid said,
angrily checking the EPS flow. This ship was a wonder, far better than Anderson
had been. He should know, he'd scrubbed a lot of it over the past year. But
now, he finally got to put his rusty skills back into use. He was tired. It sucked;
he hadn't gotten any downtime yet since the mutiny.

“We're not. We're drifting now, but we're on final approach to the
Admiral's ship,” Yosef said, checking his own board. He tapped the controls,
tweaking the flow a bit. They were barely above the minimum needed for the
bottle to maintain cohesion. He was actually looking for things to turn on just
for the excuse of using more power.

“Did you get those robots fixed?” he asked.

“Can't. And no way am I turning them loose again,” Caid replied
with a grimace and slight shiver of memory. He rubbed at one bicep, where a
security bot had grabbed his arm with enough strength to bruise him badly.
“Damn mechanical monsters,” he growled.

“We've got some AI now, so mind your tongue,” Yosef reproved.

“Ah, go to hell, we're all going there anyway,” Caid replied.

“You are really in a pisser of a mood aren't you? What gives? You
should be on top of the world like the rest of us!”

“It's... why are we going to the ship?”

“Why not?”

“We've got people to save! Why aren't we doing it!?” Caid
demanded, throwing his arms up. “What, the guy wants his uniform or something?”

“No idea,” Yosef said, not really into the conversation. Caid was
a downer, but he was a hard worker. Yosef knew the other man was just blowing
off steam.

“Typical, interested in his own ship. Think he'll dump us and take
off?” Caid grumbled, looking around in disgust.

“He's an Admiral. Why would he leave a warship for a broken down
courier?” Yosef asked.

“I don't know. It's just not right I tell you,” Caid replied. “We
should be saving our mates, not looking for the guy's crap. I have half a mind
to go up there and give him a piece of the other half.”

“Oh that's rich,” Yosef laughed. “Think that one up yourself?” he
asked. Caid opened his mouth to retort but a meaty hand touched his shoulder.
He turned to look at the dwarf and his mouth closed with a clop.

“S
it tight. The
man knows what he's doing. Trust in him. We've come this far, let's go a little
further. We're still getting a handle on everything anyway. Getting some
settling in time is good,” Sindri replied. “And that's enough of that. Let's
get this bird sorted out.”

 <----*----*----*---->

Sprite overheard the grumbling and reported it to Irons. He
nodded. “One thing at a time.”

“Yes. And I've sent someone to flush the Ssilli's tank and feed
her. She's doing better. We need to do something about her though and her tank,
it's bad.”

“One thing at a time,” the Admiral said again, this time with
just a little less patience in his tone. “Though, if you can get a medic to
check on her, whe
n they are
up,” he said.

“One is awake,” Sprite said after a moment. She must be maxed out
to sound that distracted, Irons thought. “SBA Rajesh, but he's all alone in
sickbay. They've organized a three-way watch rotation. I'll write a note to ask
nurse Glenn to look into the issue when she wakes and eats.”

“Understood,” the Admiral replied. He looked over to Ian. McGuyver
was working well as his exec, and was organizing the repairs to the bridge, as
well as tweaking the watch rotations with Sprite, Kinja, and Sindri. He had two
people standing by to exchange with the current bridge ratings. They were being
schooled on their stations now, but the current watch wanted to remain to
finish the job docking with Phoenix.

There was a small screen that served as the main screen on the
bridge. Irons hated it. He also hated the lack of a holographic plotting table.
There just wasn't enough room in the tight confines of the bridge for both an
AI post and a plotting table. He'd have to look into installing holographic
emitters in the ceiling to free up the pedestal soon, he thought, making a
mental note. That is, when they had time, power, and materials for such
extravagant things, he thought to himself wryly.

Phoenix was stable, not tumbling anymore. Irons checked the status
board. The rating was good, he came along side and like a virtuoso, he worked
the RCS pods on the ship to arrest the ship's forward momentum in relation to
Phoenix. With course and speed matched, he applied lateral thrust in a brief
microburst and then a stabilizing half strength counter burst.

“We have lock. Airlocks are lined up,” the OPS officer reported.
“One hundred meters distance, closure rate one meter per second and falling.
Now one meter every two seconds. Drifting high...”

“I've got this,” the helmsman said, sticking out his tongue in a
rictus of concentration. “Almost...” Carefully he docked the ship with Phoenix.

“We have hard dock!” The OPS rating said triumphantly. “You did
it!”

“Like riding a bicycle,” the helmsman said, sitting back. He wiped
beads of sweat from his forehead.

“And now we can get to the next step,” Irons said, smiling
slightly. “Ensure the lock integrity and then set course for the nearest prison
ship.” He turned to Ian. “Tell engineering we'll need a work party in the lock
ASAP.”

“Course plotted. We're going to go slow with the ship docked to us
though,” the rating replied, looking up.

“Can't be helped,” the Admiral replied with a shrug. “Are the
docking clamps secured?” He turned to the OPS rating.

“Yes sir,” the OPS rating replied. “I'm sending someone to double
check,” he said. “Just in case.”

“Good thinking,” the Admiral said with a nod of approval. He liked
that the young man didn't just blindly trust his board.

“I need a break,” the helmsman said, shaking. He shook his hands
out and then clenched them a few times.

The Admiral looked at the young man. He was about done in; his
adrenaline had passed. “Get some sugar, your blood sugar level is low. And get
some rest,” Ian said, coming over to him. “We've got this,” he said, moving to
the lad's couch.

Gratefully the helmsman got up and nodded. He murmured some things
to Ian, explaining the station's controls and then stiffly left the bridge.

<----*----*----*---->

Sprite flicked her way into the net covering the sickbay. It was
pretty packed, with wounded and a sprinkling of guards. She noted the quiet
SBA, Rajesh Ramada and activated the terminal he was standing next to. “Mister
Ramada?” she asked.

He nearly spilled the steaming cup of soup in his hands. “Don't do
that to me!” he said, mopping at his chest to be sure.

“Oh, sorry,” Sprite replied. “Do you have a moment?”