Copyright © 1997, 1998
Last updated on 1/21/98
Bridge - 05:39:30
As the two Captains are leaving, a note flashes up on Zben Blaine screen, from the Captain's priority channel:
::Mr. Blaine, please relay this meeting to the ship. We'll all want to know.::
Zben sets up a link from `Vouf's hand comp and crosses it onto the All Call, with a tone that alerts everyone to the incoming message. He then sits back and listens in....
Merkle's eyes track back and forth over the Engineering displays, not bothering to read the many minor warning icons flashing on and off. As the displays cycle by, masses of red icons blink in clusters around engineering and the aft portion of the Elissa.
Patting a bulkhead, Boris thumbs his commdot:
"Merkle to Munro. Chief, sorry to bother. I'm the only engineer on the Bridge. A lot of the big boards are glowing, so I'm heading aft unless you have other plans. I've still got a welding kit. which I'll take along. Advise if there's anything else I should grab on the way. See you soon, if it's still possible to walk to engineering that is."
Merkle out."
Boris reaches to the floor, reaching for the stray welding kit. With a last look at the bridge couch, so recently holed, Merkle gives a nod to the other busy Bridge staff, and makes his way to the Bridge entrance.
Nick Talon settles himself into the helm station, ensuring that it is configured to his liking, complete with the two tiny pink holographic dice in the corner of the panel.
His attention is divided between the bizarre vista on the viewscreen in front of him and the conversation being broadcast through the ship from the CO's office. He makes a mental note to credit 'Vouf for giving the whole crew a chance to listen in on this.
He sits quietly, deep in thought and waiting for instructions.
After leaving the bridge, Angus moves back towards engineering to join up with the rest of the team to clean-up and effect repairs.
The bridge was an awful mess, he thinks. With what was done in engineering, it'll be more horrifying than any of my worst nightmares. Well, if I get sick it won't be noticed.
Angus stops by the equipment locker on the way back to pick up some tools and trundles back to Engineering.
Rigo sits slumped down in his seat for a few seconds releasing the pent-up tension. Then he straightens up and starts working.
"PATER," he says, "could you give me a list of intruder bodies, destroyed doors and bulkheads, and areas that have been entered by intruders? I've kinda lost count myself in all this excitement. Print it on the screen on my left there."
_Certainly, mister Edmondsen._ replies PATER evenly. _The data is now on-screen._ As the text and marked deckplans appear, the computer adds in an almost chagrined voice, _Please note that several of the intruder body positions are approximate, as a result of damaged sensors and securecams in some of the engineering spaces._
The map shows all of engineering decks 2, 3, and 4, aft of the forward engineering primary bulkhead to be in vacuum, as is all of cargo bay #3, (including Doejin's pool), and the connecting tube on deck 4. It also indicates seven bodies (or parts thereof) scattered across the deck of cargo bay #3 and into the forward connecting tube 4-way airlock. Another thirteen bodies are wedged into machinery throughout the aft section of engineering on deck 4, a fourteenth is crushed against the ceiling of deck 3 next to gravlift E2, and two more lie crumpled on deck 2 just forward of the ruptured shuttle bay airlock.
Picture an empty steel closet, about ten feet square, with sliding double doors at either end.
...No. Not quite empty. A man in a sealed vacc-suit sits on the floor, eyes closed inside the helmet, his left hand resting on an ARL laying beside him.
His commo fills the vacc-suit helmet the thin, attenuated voices of the Bhyarrvouf-Stubbs meeting.
You killed today, thinks Bishop. Deliberately, methodically, and with intent. Now it's done.
How do you feel? Elated? Remorseful? Sad? Terrified?
Guilty?
Nothing. Not a single twinge of emotional shrapnel to deal with. Just the same sequence of preview/review. Predict. Act. Evaluate. PATER probably gets more jollies than you do.
_No I don't, Adrian._ An electronic voice gently intrudes. _You know that._
Yah, yah, OK. Go away for a while.
The old Bishop was a heartless, spineless, self-centered bastard, but he never killed anyone, did he?
Did he?
Well, that's another 'unanswerable' question, adds Bishop mentally. The list is really starting to grow, isn't it?
He's really gone, isn't he? I'm just using the name. Adrian Bishop died in his cabin on the Alcyon two months ago. I fit in about as well as Banquo's ghost. In spite of himself, Bishop snorts. Now *there's* an apt comparison.
A lot of folks get sweaty at this task, but Thul obviously enjoys it... If you could hear from under his suit's helmet, you'd hear him whistling some random ditty that he picked up from some long forgotten bar in a long forgotten place.
After removing the last of the charges, he keys his mike:
<< Armoury, Jonson here. I've just gotten the last of these toys disarmed. What's next on my agenda? >>
Rafe eyes Schmud in consternation for a moment longer, then shrugs mentally and tables the episode.
"There doesn't seem to be any further threat, so I suppose we may as well head back to the Armoury."
Abdul comments, "We really ought to wait for an official all clear before we leave our current posts. Military types tend to get upset when you use your initiative without permission."
The iris valve shuts behind the two Captains, and 'Vouf wearily gestures Stubbs to a seat. 'Vouf sets his helmet down on a side table and pulls up a chair. "To drink?"
"No thanks, we're in too much of a hurry."
"Okay," 'Vouf says. "Ready to answer some questions?"
"Of course," Stubbs nods. "Shoot."
"Eh-hrf, first off...Where in the name of Ouma are we?"
"You're in a universe that coexists with the one you and I came from, one that follows slightly skewed physical laws compared to what we're used to. The inhabitants call it the Wire."
DaSilva glances up at the wall speaker in annoyance.
Pater, shut that damned thing off."
As an afterthought,
"Log the discussion and forward a copy to my handcomp, including a transcript."
DaSilva returns to the task at hand, dictating notes into his handcomp.
"Patient suffered an apparent x-ray laser hit to the head, collateral damage to right side of head from molten plastic of helmet. Damn stupid design, poor engineering; should've vaporized and dispersed away from his face."
"The Wire." 'Vouf snorts. "Hrf....A sort of....alternate spacetime continuum?"
"Alternate space, yes. But not time. Every second that passes by on the Wire is matched by a second in our normal universe, what they call the Outside."
"So we're not going to run into any weird time warps or anything?"
"Nope."
"Second question," 'Vouf frowns. "How did we get in here? What WAS that?"
"It was a Gate, a rift between the Wire and the Outside. They happen all over the Wire, all the time, apparently at random. They vary in size and stability, and the vast majority close up without giving us a chance to look through them. The biggest ones tend to be fairly stable, though. They can last for days, even weeks in some cases."
"In some cases? You mean that, hrrrr, 'Gate' we came through was an unusually long-lived one?"
"Longest-lived one in well over a century, off the top of my head. Maybe longer. Event Horizon are--" Stubbs pauses and corrects himself with a small smile. "The people I work for are very interested in it for that very reason. Big gates are always the subject of a lot of study, and this one was weird for a lot of reasons. They normally open in shallow gravity wells, like an Oort cloud or well within a star system; this one opened out in the middle of nowhere...."
"It didn't used to be," 'Vouf says softly.
"WHAT?" Stubbs sits upright and stares hard at 'Vouf. "What do you know about that?"
"I know a lot of things about a lot of things," 'Vouf replies, his voice smooth as chocolate. "But I'm the one asking the questions."
"At least for now," Stubbs replies with a hint of steel in his tone.
'Vouf accepts the qualification with a nod. "The Hamilcar's a real sweet ship," he says casually. "How long did it take to clean out the corpses?"
"Oh, not too--" Stubbs stops dead in midsentence and glares hard at the Vargr, who returns the gaze steadily.
"It was YOU," Stubbs whispers. "YOU killed them--"
"NO." 'Vouf cuts him off. "We didn't kill anyone on that ship. They were dead and rotting when we first got to her. I will admit to siphoning off her fuel and retrieving her records, but I can't take credit for chewing up her people."
"But you know who did," Stubbs prompts angrily.
"O, yes," 'Vouf nods. "But THAT is another story entirely. Tell me, was it you who salvaged the Hamilcar and all the other wreckage?"
"Yes...." Stubbs seems unwilling to let the prior matter drop, but accedes at last. "We always send ships out of any Gate that's large enough to accept them, to scrounge for stuff that you can't get in the Wire. Heavy elements are tough to come by-- especially lanthanum."
"Lanthanum?" 'Vouf sits up suddenly, shocked in his turn. "So you DO use Jump Drives! But...in HERE?!"
"Of course," Stubbs grins. "When you have a long way to go, FlareShips are the only way to travel. They're rare and valuable like nothing else in the Wire, Captain. You are a very, VERY rich Vargr."
"She's not my ship," 'Vouf says.
"OH YES SHE IS." Stubbs brings down a fist on the table, startling 'Vouf into attention. "You can give her back to whomever owns her Outside when you GET Outside, Captain, but you were her Master when she came through and that makes her YOURS, stem to stern. Don't you EVER forget that! This isn't a nice place, any more than the Outside is, and clear and indisputable claim to a FlareShip gives you a lot of legal and economic leverage that you are going to NEED. Clear?"
'Vouf nods, digesting this latest bombshell uncomfortably. "Speaking of getting Outside, Captain, that raises my NEXT question. How DO we get out of here?"
Stubb's indignation fades and is replaced by a tired sadness. "That's the wrong question, Captain. You don't really want to ask how you get OUT... you want to ask how you get HOME." He sighs. "There's a BIIIIIG difference."
"Why?"
"Gates open all the time. Some of them are big enough for a man to fit through. Some of those are big enough for a scuttlepod. Some of THOSE are big enough for a Type S. And some of THOSE are big enough for the Elissa. If all you want is to get off the Wire, you just have to get to a Gate that's big enough for your ship and scoot through it. Based on the usual statistical distribution of Gate appearances and assuming the Harkeir Gate, the one that you came through, didn't screw up the trends too much, I'd say that there should be a Gate big enough to let you out within a month or two. No more than three, guaranteed."
<< ...No thanks, we're in too much of a hurry... >> Comes booming through the overhead speakers.
"Dammit, Pater, turn that thing down, better yet, store offline in a file for me. I'd like music, how's 'bout something Vargr, post-modern. Something more sedate than the captain listens to."
A curious euphoria is still washing slowly over Dr. Morton Limner. A few years ago he came up with a name for it: Concentration Narcosis. Concentrate long enough, hard enough, achieve a single minded focus on what you are doing, and this Narcosis could be the result, primarily from a combination of oxygen deprivation, an increase in adrenalin supply and fatigue poisons, and a certain psychological phenomena similar to self hypnosis. Limner finds he is slowly regaining a sense of himself, his surroundings. The euphoria slowly fades leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He becomes aware of the conditions around him in the sickbay.
Jan is cutting away the fragments of clothing that have fused with the body of Dan Silvmane, minimizing damage to tissue that may again have life. Already a hemostatic solution flows through Silvmane's vessels, clotting at tears. Nanocytes combat free radicals in a race to preserve brain function. The vampire cuff provides a level playing field by maintaining oxygen and glucose.
Morton has been looking over Dan silently. Removing the last shreds of clothing, Jan turns to him.
"I don't have any magic tricks, at least not in this bag. We've got enough brain function to say it's viable, but it's way too much damage to repair here. Definitely a job for a first rate trauma shop."
Awaiting a reply, Jan turns back to do the final prep before starting the low passage process.
"Well... I MAY have a few magic tricks, but now isn't the time to try them. Remember, `First Rule: Stabilize. Second Rule: See first rule.' You're doing just fine."
Limner checks various readouts on the console Silvmane is wired to. The actual readings are better than he has any right to expect. The violence of the wound and the energy beams cauterization effect, coupled with the bodies natural shutdown reactions has left more to work with than he had hoped. `Hmmm... Physically he's a wreck, but mentally he's in good shape. Shouldn't need excessive work.'
"Yep, I'm mostly concerned about his lack of spinal cord from T-10 to L, maybe, -4 or -5. We could work around the GI tract very nicely, regenerate the missing muscle mass. I don't think we're lacking skill, just the neuro regen equipment."
At that point the piped in conversation between `Vouf and Stubbs begins to sink in. The details about the "Wire" are fascinating, and Limner finds `Vouf's veiled references to knowledge about Grandfather interesting.
"Mahnfruhd, ahd, like tuh perform ah sensuh sweep of this heeyuh plasmuh cloud," Smythe says, indicating the external view of the tenuous excited plasma in a cloud layer between the solid "surface" and the Elissa. "Ah've got uh theory as tuh why there's any light in this dang hose... What sensuh do ya r'cmend? Spectrometuh and wide band radio sensuhs? Ah think thuh radio 'tensity might give us an idea of ennuhgee content of thuh plasmuh."
"Hmmm?" is Werner's only response. He appears intent on the broadcast from 'Vouf's cabin to the exclusion of all else. Morser, on the other hand, blightly ignores the commo 'chatter' as he happily goes about configuring the console to initiate half a dozen active sensor sweeps.
"I'm sorry, Ostyn," Werner shakes his head, as he drags himself away from the radio dialog. "Er, yes, I think..." looking at the console, he slaps Morser's hand away from a switch. "Karl, if you want to commit suicide, do it on your own time. Better yet, ask Bishop for directions."
"V-v-v-vas!?!" sputters Morser. "Ve may haff only few minutes to collect ze data. Ve must take effery..."
"...Precaution with regard to EM emission." finishes Werner. "We were almost blown from the sky half an hour ago. Do you want to send up red flares saying 'Here we are. Come finish the job'?"
Glaring, Morser begins powering down select systems. Werner returns to Smythe and continues, "I think spectrophotometry and wide band RF would be a good place to start. Passive only, until the bridge advises us it's safe to do otherwise." Then he returns his attention to the intercom.
Goughzar works quietly on the bridge, bringing the Paladin about to proper facing to dock with the Elissa. The ship lowers the last meter and locks down with a small jolt.
Touching the comm pad, "Elissa, Goughzar here. Paladin in place and locked down."
'Zar continues to sit in the command chair of the Paladin, listening to the conversation passed through by Pater.
Rafe stops.
<< Lazer, this is Rafe. Should Abdul and I remain on guard, or stand down and return to the Armoury? >>
Rigo breaks in on the conversation.
<< Schmud, we military types hate people who use initiative and mess up. We _love_ people who use initiative and do good. We're also down on people who mess up for lack of initiative, but they're harder to nail. Anyway, we need someone to check Engineering decks 2, 3, and 4 Aft. Intruder bodies to be checked to make sure they _are_ bodies - be extra careful of unknown species, we don't know what it takes to put them out for good. Weapons to be secured and placed under lock and key - use a storeroom, I don't want anything we haven't checked first in here in the Armoury. Bodies bagged and placed in another storeroom - our scientists will have a feast of autopsies to look forward to. All areas to be checked for explosives. And pay special attention to PATER's blind spots... DON'T assume that all intruders are accounted for. >>
"Hrf! That's not so bad, I suppose. We could-- wait a minute." 'Vouf growls dangerously at Stubbs. "Where do the Gates GO?"
"Give the doggie a bone," Stubbs says with a sarcastic smirk, the obvious insult driving the point home with needle sharpness. 'Vouf's teeth draw back in a snarl, and he half rises from his chair.
"Calm down, Captain," Stubbs says with a wave of his hand. "You'll live longer. The fact is, WE DON'T KNOW. There is no detectable mapping between the Wire and the Outside. There can't be-- on a cosmological scale, they have different dimensionalities!"
"How can that be," 'Vouf cocks an ear at Stubbs in puzzlement.
"That's why they call it the Wire," Stubbs explains. "From a standpoint of scale, it's a one-dimensional universe. The fifty kilometers diameter that we're floating in right now is a pure formality-- in anything short of Heisenbergian uncertainty terms, it'd be swept under the rug and ignored."
"Really," 'Vouf frowns. "How long is it, then? How far does it go?"
"How high is up?" Stubbs shrugs. "We don't know that either. The part we can explore is about a light-year long, give or take a bit."
One *light-year* long? Bishop snaps erect. The calculations flow through his head unbidden, reflexively. With a diameter of fifty kilometers...
It should probably count as an emotional display. A very faint smile slowly spreads across Bishops face. Almost twenty-two *million* class-8 planetary surfaces. More than enough room for a man to lose himself...
...or find himself.
Turning to the forward hatch, Bishop thumbs the release and moves to join the rest of the crew picking up the pieces of Elissa.
"Beyond that, the laws of physics begin to change at a rapid rate... you get into what's called the Dead Zones, where life can't exist. People who try to probe them don't last long. Even unmanned probes come apart if they go too deep. But a light-year is plenty long enough to allow for all kinds of Gate mappings to the Outside. We're lucky; the mapping to the Outside is vanishingly small on a cosmological scale as well. But it's still a bit big for all practical purposes...."
"Like, HOW big?"
"Would you believe we've explored territories that neither the Zhodani Core Expeditions nor the Solomani Arm Explorers have reached yet?"
Rigo examines the map and starts calling out assignments.
"Awntremont, Schmud, will you take Deck 2? There's two bodies just forward of the breached shuttle bay airlock. Berana, Azani, take Deck 3. There's a body next to gravlift E2. Hfolraw, Shrike, please check Deck 4. There's 13 bodies strewn across the aft engineering section there. Horne, Kor, please check Cargo Bay #2. There's 7 bodies in there. And Deck 2 and 3 parties: You'll probably finish before the others. Go and give them a hand when you do. Any questions? >>
<< Yes, >> Abdul grins, shouldering his laser. << When do I get to go back to the Sensor Pit and be ignored by fellow scientists again? Just kidding, Rigo. >> He bows deeply to Rafe, motioning him out ahead of him.
<< Check. >> Rafe does as he is told, listening with interest to the broadcast conversation between 'Vouf and Stubbs.
Abdul stays put whilst he listens to the broadcast conservation.
<< Roger that Mr. Edmondsen. On our way... >>
Azani motions Berana to follow.
<< Come on Mr. Berana, we have work to do. >>
<< Right behind you, Mr. Azani, >>, Tar nods, sealing his helmet.
"We's on it, Rig-- ah, Mister Edmondsen." Horne drops his cheroot to the floor after taking a long, hard pull on it, grinds out the butt very carefully, then picks up the stub and pockets it. Letting out the smoke in a luxurious puff, he grabs his helmet and ARL, and says, "Good to go, Vanessa?"
Finishing her equipment check, Vanessa nods to J.J. and opens the door. "Got your filter mask?" she asks as she heads out the door, "You never know what to expect. Not to mention the smell."
"You're going to need more than a filter mask out there, Kor," Rigo says drily. "The whole area is in vacuum at the moment. As in open to space, you know."
Horne doesn't smile as he scoops up Kor's helmet off the table and carries it after her. "You're not gonna smell nuthin' in hard vacuum. Ain't no air to filter in that part of the ship yet."
"Wow...." 'Vouf settles back in his chair, a bit dazed. "Is there any, hrr, any, uhm, PATTERN at all to the mappings? I mean overall. Is there a distance from known space that you KNOW is too far for a Gate too reach?"
"Oh, sure," Stubbs agrees. "The Wire apparently maps onto a nearly spherical chunk of the Milky Way that's about a thousand parsecs in diameter, centered somewhere in the Massilia Sector, we think. It reaches beyond the edges of the Zhodani Consulate, the Vargr Extents, the Two Thousand Worlds, the Hive Federation, the Solomani Confederation, the Aslan Hierate, and all of their client states."
Aolrkhea' freezes on the inkling of a thought.
I cannot imagine the value of the exploratory information that must have been acquired here over the ages! What a priority to return with the knowledge held in this place!
Aolrkhea' does not move until the male talk about "marshalling forces" is distracting to the point of returning her to quickly completing the task at hand.
Zben listens intently to the part about how long it may take to get home, but isn't that concerned. Various ships have always been home to Zben Blaine. The revelations as to the size and makeup of the Tube (`Wire: I have to remember that') make an impact, but after everything else he's seen, not much.
Stubbs pauses for a moment. "So that means that if you want to get HOME, you need a big, stable Gate that opens up within easy travelling distance of your destination. That would've been a lot easier as recently as three years ago. But now that the War has erupted all over creation, you can't assume a safe trip across the Imperium. You're going to have to wait until a Gate opens in a safe system that you feel you can reach your destination from. And THAT could take YEARS." He gives 'Vouf a long look. "I'm sorry, Bhyarrvouf."
'Vouf's eyes are bleak. "So am I. Years....O my poor crew...."
He looks up at Stubbs, his eyes anguished. "What'll we DO?"
"Careful, Captain," Stubbs says softly. "You don't trust me, remember?"
"I have to trust SOMEONE," 'Vouf says miserably. "We have no data! We're alone, helpless, shot to pieces...!"
"NOT alone," Stubbs says sharply. "Not alone. The Hamilcar's no match for the Nikaido, especially if it comes back with reinforcements, but my orders are to stick by the Elissa and protect her at all costs."
"WHY?" 'Vouf glares at Stubbs. "What do YOU care? If you wanted to take the Elissa as a prize, you'd have boarded us already! You've seen the shape we're in... going through the motions of a peaceful contact wouldn't serve any purpose at all! What makes us so kakh IMPORTANT to you?!"
"YOU, Captain." Stubb's voice is solemn. "You, and Count Ger, and Major Farouk, and all the other people aboard the Elissa that make her a working, functioning starship rather than a hunk of lifeless metal. You're all trained professionals, and there are NEVER enough well-crewed FlareShips to go around. That's why people like Julian Stamerra are so hot to capture or destroy them. And that's why people like me sit here with people like you. I work for a--"
He halts and scratches his chin. "It's too complicated to go into a lot of detail, dammit. I don't think you realize how unlucky the Elissa was, Captain. Normally when a ship blunders through a Gate, it's alone, or there's a ship like the Hamilcar waiting to meet it. No shots are fired, and the Captain may even have an opportunity to turn around and get out again before the Gate closes. But the ship assigned to watch THIS Gate was fired upon by Stamerra, and it barely got back to us in time for us to launch a rescue. And when Stamerra can marshal his forces, he'll be back, and we have to get you well away from here before then!"
"And why do I suddenly get the feeling that we DON'T have two weeks?"
"Good guess, Captain," Stubbs grins. "Welcome to the Wire. In here, Jumps are INSTANTANEOUS."
THIS causes Zben to sit up straight! The implications are vast!
Morgan Grey follows Boris off the Bridge, reporting down to Engineering as Munro is going over the Jump systems status. He takes one look at the carnage and runs for the fresher, emerging pale and shaken a few minutes later.
Vouf's and Stubbs conversation barely impinges upon Munro's concentration. Busy with data about how bad her ship is damaged, she notices very little except to direct people to damaged areas. Until...
<< And why do I suddenly get the feeling that we DON'T have two weeks? >>
<< Good guess, Captain. Welcome to the Wire. In here, Jumps are INSTANTANEOUS. >>
CLANG!!!! The spanner slips from Yolanda's nerveless fingers, falls to the floor, barely missing her foot.
With Schmud, Rafe makes his way back along the ship's roll axis, stopping for important things like pumping the Cargo Bay #2 hallway's atmosphere up and down, still listening with half an ear to the Captains' summit.
If anything 'Vouf or Stubbs says startles or distresses him, he gives no sign of it; his face has its usual impassive, slightly distant expression. A Zalunni meditation expert might recognize this as a sign of distress in and of itself....
"WHURF?!" 'Vouf sits back in his chair, shaking his head vigorously as if he'd received a blow to the skull and is trying to shake it off.
"That's about what I said when I found out," Stubbs laughs.
"Why is it that Rigo's RIGHT every time I wish he weren't," 'Vouf mutters darkly.
"They map to smaller distances than you're used to Outside, and they still burn a lot of fuel, but you can Jump again and again as fast as you can refuel and recharge. Which, for the Nikaido, gives us...." He consults a wristwatch. "...less than an hour to fuel the Elissa from the Hamilcar's tankage and Jump away."
"We've got longer than that," 'Vouf says automatically. "Their plants have scrammed, and they'll have to do a warm start along with all their damage control. But...jump away...." 'Vouf looks hard at Stubbs. "To WHERE?"
"Ahhhhhh," Stubbs smiles, a twinkle in his eye. "You haven't had time to ask a number of worthy questions, Captain. That was one of them. Another is how we know where Gates ARE, when we have over a light-year of Wire to observe. Another is exactly WHO ordered me to save you at almost any cost. Fortunately, those all go together, and the easiest way to answer them all is to take you back to the place I call 'home.' To Centerpoint."
Walking towards cargo bay 2 and the lift Vanessa pauses in the corridor for J.J. and adds "I'd like a rod of some sort. Two meters should be adequate. I'd rather do initial inspections on those bodies from a distance."
Horne, fastening his helmet, snorts. It takes a moment to realize that it's a laugh. "Poke 'em with a stick and see if they bite? Or blow up," he finishes with a grimace. "Smart. Lemme see if we can find somethin'....yo, PATER! We got anythin' to check these meatbags at a distance with?" He curses. "Back home, I'd hack a branch offa tree an' we'd be good to go. No trees up here."
_Nothing immediately presents itself, mister Horne._ replies PATER. _There is a large selection of conduit, tubing, and other similar components available in the fabrication shop, if you wish to return that location._
Horne snorts again, says "Wait here a sec," and jogs aft down the corridor toward Main Engineering. A few minutes later, he returns with a two-meter length of plastic rod stock, that wobbles slightly as he shakes it. "This'll do," he says, handing it to Kor.
"Thanks." says Vanessa as she grabs onto the rod and looking it over, "Yep, this should do nicely."
Scooping up the miscreant spanner, Yolanda strides to the nearest console. Or tries to. The debris left over from the explosive decompression hampers her movements, making it appear like she's walking on ice rather than steel.
"Pater. Please bring up the current status on the jump grid, jump drives and fuel tanks."
_The current grid integrity scan is displayed on submonitor one,_ PATER replies. _The Jump Drives do not show any faults beyond Level Three, and all faults are linked to tripped stress interlocks; estimate less than ten minutes to restore full operational capacity. The systems do not, of course, have the ability to microscan the Zuchai crystals for flaws. A macroscan for obvious faults will take approximately seventeen minutes._
_The fuel tankage has suffered a 15.4 percent loss of structural integrity in the central hull, a 0.0% loss of integrity in the starboard outrigger, and a 76.8% loss of integrity in the port outrigger._
"What's the status on the fighter bay doors?"
_Mr. de Mer is currently attempting to overtake and retrieve one of the fighter bay doors; there is insufficient data to estimate a time of arrival following a successful retrieval._
Also, do we have grid patches in stores?"
_There are no grid patches in storage aboard the Elissa._
The display of the Grid is a nightmare. The volley of missiles has chewed up the delicate tracery of lanthanum wire needed to aid the formation of the ship's Jump envelope in many places on the Elissa's port side, and there are gaping holes at the stern airlock and starboard cargo bay.
"Damn, damn, and double damn. The grid looks more like K'Kree chewed lace leaf than a jump grid. Chief Engineer Munro to the following people...., Mr. Bishop, Dr. Morser. Due to the situation we are currently faced with, your skills are required in engineering as of five minutes ago."
<< Roger that, miss Munro. >> responds Bishop, as he drifts up through the open iris valve. << On my way. >> Turning instead forward, he jogs forward the twelve meters to the Armoury. Entering, he moves to avoid the security team members preparing to scour the ship, lays the ARL, grenades, and what's left of the TDX brick on a table next to Edmondsen.
"Here's the gear I yelled for earlier, Rigo." he offers. "It turns out I didn't need the grenades or the rocket launcher after all. I'd stow it all, but your team knows where to put it better than I, and apparently I'm needed in engineering on the double." Stepping through the hatch, he adds, "See you later." Then he's gone.
Aolrkhea' sizes up the damage in gravlift C compartment before carefully descending via her gravbelt to deck 5 (through the breached deckhatch that Bishop blew up). Noting the indicators next to the floor iris valve on deck 5, she cycles out the atmosphere from the compartment beneath her.
During the wait, she listens to Stubbs on the ship-wide pipe:
<< ... but you can Jump again and again as fast as you can refuel and recharge. Which, for the Nikaido, gives us ... less than an hour to fuel the Elissa from the Hamilcar's tankage and Jump away. >>
Recognizing the urgency to get back to repairs in engineering, Aolrkhea' makes an unhappy decision and growls,
<< Pater, assist me in reaching Cargo Bay 3 and back to Engineering as fast as you can. >>
Computers are meant for menial tasks, but not to put the meat into your mouth. Or in this case, help you walk. Aolrkhea' is irritated at the minor dishonor.
The indicators match at near zero levels and Aolrkhea' descends into the compartment. Pater instantly seals the hatch behind her and begins repressurization. Aolrkhea' impatiently stands over the hatch and zips down the grav lift down as soon as atmosphere is attained.
Once at deck 8, she rushes through Cargo Bay 3, glancing from handcomp to cargo labels. "Whoever created the cargo manifest database did an excellent job and shall be complemented," she speaks to no one as she easily locates the portable airlock.
"Damn, damn, *DAMN*!!" rages Morser. "How am I ekzzzpected to *effer* get any verk done mith zeez conztant interrupzhuns?"
"How do you expect to live long enough to analyze your data if you don't get your ass back to engineering and help out?" snaps Werner in reply.
"Ve are go-ink to haff a long talk about manners unt jhain-uff-command when I get back", glares Morser as he heads for the door. "Ostyn, you unt Manfred hatt better not miss a *zingle* zenzor reading vile I am gone, yah?" Then he stomps through the doorway and heads for engineering.
<< Shrike here, Wilco. >> "C'mon Hfolraw, time to go for another walk and this time we get to poke bodies to see if they move." Wearily, "Oh joy."
"Andon, do you have any training with explosives?" Hfolraw asks. "I do not think they would have had time to booby-trap any of the bodies, but these were not honorable opponents. It would be wise to be cautious. There is no honor in being killed by a coward's bomb."
"Except for those simple door charges, not a bit. If we see anything suspicious we'll just have to call for an expert. That's a good point though. Just a second.
<< Pater, patch me through to Edmundson. Rigo, Shrike here, suggest that you broadcast a message to the non-security types that unless they are familiar with weapons and equipment on these boarders that they don't touch anything until security checks it. There's an awful lot of explosives still around. >>
"Hau, Shrike." Rigo responds. "Is there any reason why you go through PATER instead of using the Security channel?" Without waiting for an answer he switches to the general channel. "General message. This is Security. We are at the present conducting a sweep of the Elissa to make sure the intruders didn't leave us any nasty surprises. Please do not touch the intruder bodies, equipment, or weapons until security has checked them over."
Switching off he address Shrike again: "Well?"
"Pater, request the bridge to get two of our best pilots into Dr. Smythes' work pods to retrieve the fighter bay doors."
_Transmitting._
Strapping on gear to work 'outside', Munro gives directions, without care to being tactful.
"haut-Frieder take Jonson and coordinate the recovery and re-attachment of the fighter bay doors. Boris, take over here in engineering and coordinate internal repairs. Give Hur'Shurvan the lead on repairing the jump drives when he gets here from sickbay. When Bishop and Aolrkhea' arrive, send them out to help patch the grid and any other holes requiring attention. Take Dr. Morser in hand and get him working on internal problems. The computer shows he's got fairly good skills in engineering." Looking down and around at the mess left by the not so dearly departed, she grimaces. "Maybe contact sickbay and get those medbots to come down here and help clean up the leftovers."
"At once, Mynheer Munro," Aaron nods, walking over to where Thul is just finishing with disarming the unexploded charges on the iris valve leading below. "You with me, Thul?"
_Count Ger,_ intones PATER, _Chief Munro requests that two pilots be immediately assigned to doctor Smythe's Discovery workpods to assist in the re-attachment of the fighter bay doors, as they are returned to the ship. Examination of the crew roster would indicate that mister Shrike, Hfolraw, and Captain Bhyarrvouf are the three most suitable candidates._
Ger activates the Communications channel.
"This is the Bridge, Hfolraw, Shrike, report to fighter bay for mechanical repairs. Please confirm."
"Dr. Morser," Hryawi speaks without looking from her console, "since I have some rudimentary medical skills, I request permission to head over to the Medical Lab, and help with the autopsies. This way we can learn how these new species are physically inferior/superior to Aslan, err sorry, humans."
Hryawi turns around and stops short, upon realizing that Dr. Morser is no longer in the science lab, she turns to Dr. Werner and says, "Dr. Werner, I would like to request permission to donate my services to the medical team in autopsying the new found lifeform corpses."
"Good idea," Werner looks up from the holo-tank console. "This will take some time and God knows they could use another biologist." As almost an afterthought, he adds, "Be careful around those big bugs."
"Centerpoint," 'Vouf says. "The farmers mentioned it. Your home base?"
"Yes, and a lot more besides. It's the largest organized government in the Wire, at least that we know of. It occupies the largest land mass yet discovered in the Wire--"
"Land masses," 'Vouf says in a daze. "Science mentioned something about seeing those. How do you manage THAT?"
"The Wire occasionally eats a planet when a Gate opens in the wrong place-- it's only happened once in *recorded* history, but the Wire's a LOT older than anyone who lives there-- and the matter accretes into land masses on the surface. They break apart and reform over long periods, subject to forces we don't understand very well, but the biggest ones are stable, or at least mostly stable. Centerpoint occupies the biggest one, and it stretches all the way around--" He makes a wheeling gesture from floor to ceiling and back with one arm, "Forming a toroidal continent. The term 'Centerpoint' can refer to a number of things, based on context: the land mass, the cylindrographical reference point that FlareShips use to navigate, the city-state with all of its farmlands and outlying regions, and the city itself."
"And this is all inhabitable? We read a breathable air mix outside, but it's so THIN...."
"The Wire has about point eight Terran gee at the surface, and a perfectly breathable oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere. The Brinn and the Jagd don't like it here, but everyone else does just fine."
The two armored figures trudge aft and cycle through into vacuum, heading back down the spine corridor and up to Deck 3. They make their way up grav lift E2 and into Life Support, where a single body lies sprawled on the decking in a twisted position. There is no question that it is dead; the body is broken like a doll. But what kind of a body?
<< Jeez, >> Tar mutters, poking at it with his ARL. << Uh, PATER, can I talk to Medical? >>
_Connecting now._
<< Medical, this is Berana. I got a riddle for you. What's ten feet tall, weighs a quarter ton minimum, probably a lot more, walks upright, and bleeds as red as any man? >> He looks up at Azani from the gigantic spacesuited corpse, his eyes fearful. << Jordan, >> he whispers, << Think it's a good idea to turn him over? Get a look at his face...? >>
Limner and Jan stare at each other for a moment. Limner replies; << Mr. Berana, Dr. Limner here. We will be moving to your area shortly. Please try and disturb as little as possible. >>
"Kae, kakh tsakha! Kharrbyegh, what's the status of Ace and those bhasto doors?"
_The fighter Ace is bearing 174.93 mark 02.05, range 12.33 kilometers._ replies Kharrbyegh. _Mister de Mer is maneuvering within 50 meters of a large metallic object which has a 93% probability of being one of the jettisoned fighter bay doors. A second similar object is bearing 185.21 mark 01.96, range 12.28 kilometers._
Goughzar opens the comm to Ace, "Paladin to Ace, how exactly are you recovering those doors Etienne? Do you have some sort of grapple on Ace?"
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