New Dawn (Wandering Engineer) (46 page)

"Good golly miss
Molly," he muttered as he watched her snap her fingers to the guards and
jerk her thumb up and out to tell them to leave.

Jennie doubled over as she
giggled. "I can't believe you said that!"

He snorted. "Neither can
I."

“Admiral, Molly, you, Jennie,
Trisha, and a few of the others have coveralls, I was wondering where we can
get some?” a voice in the back of the room asked. He looked over to the raven
haired girl. “Susa right?” he asked. She nodded. “Well, each of you that wants
a coverall can give your measurement's to Molly or the morale officer and ask
for three to five sets of coveralls, and two sets of steel toed boots like
mine.” He tapped his left foot.

“Do they have to have all the
pads and pockets?” one of the other girls asked, wrinkling her nose. Molly hid
a grin. “The pads are to protect your joints when you’re on your hands and
knees, or when you’re handling something bulky. The pockets... well,” Irons
shrugged. He fished out a couple tools from his breast pocket, put them back,
and then ripped the velcro off his hip pockets to pull out parts. “The pockets
as you can see come in handy.” He looked down at a part. “Hey, I was looking
for that earlier!” he said. The girls giggled.

“The coveralls are also protected
against electrical spikes and fire,” Jennie spoke up. “I've gotten most of my
crew into them now. They identify us to the rest of the crew too,” she said
smugly.

Susa nodded. She reached out and
grabbed Jen's sleeve. “What's this stuff made of?”

“Fire, shock, plasma, and impact resistant
polymer,” the Admiral replied.

“Fire resistant?” Molly asked,
looking at her own coverall.

“Oh, that and more. It can even
help with life support,” he replied.

She shook her head bemused.
“Wow.” He chuckled at her expression.

"The Fleet tender, or
support repair ship is shaped like a sword," he said. He turned to see the
class looking bemused and confused. "Okay, a sword is a long pointy thing
made of metal used before star flight." Some of the faces cleared. He drew
a quick sketch on the computer tablet, then clicked enter. A sword shape
projected and then rotated. He overlaid the ship's silhouette then scaled them
to match. "See?" Some of the women nodded. "Support ships were
designed to be utilitarian; they were designed to do a job far from home.”

He turned to the class. "You
see, when you have a fleet of ships off on a mission, they can only support
themselves with materials they carry or can replicate. But warship replicators
are limited in size and scope, most of the space on a warship is needed for
other things," he explained. He accessed the database and pulled up a
light cruiser's silhouette, then placed it next to the tenders. "All right
here we have a basic cruiser. Notice the differences?"

One of the women in the front
raised her hand. "It's smoother, and smaller."

He nodded as the silhouettes
rolled, then rotated. "Yes, warships are designed to fight and fly fast.
Their hulls are armored to deflect incoming fire and sensors. It's also
sculpted to allow it to transit higher hyper bands then this ship, so it can
get to a hot spot faster," he explained. He nodded to a girl with her hand
up. "Yes?"

"But why the hurry? And why
can't we do that?" she asked. She waved to the image helplessly.

He chuckled. "Well, a
support ship is designed to be protected. Light armor, light weapons, slow
engines and hyperdrive. We have a lot of cargo space for goods, replicators,
and processing modules," he replied.

She looked confused. "But if
warships have replicators, why do you need cargo holds? Or support ships with
replicators," she asked. Some of the other students murmured as well.

He nodded. "Good point. The
reason is because somethings can’t be replicated, or take a long time to do so.
And sometimes, you need it right away and can't wait," he replied and then
smiled. "I believe we all experienced that recently last year when the
cable to the hyperdrive failed right?" The students began to nod.
"All right then. Cargo holds are also good to store products that have a
short shelf life. Remember, we're far from the nearest star, and therefore only
have what we carry with us."

He turned to the console and
pulled up the files for his next lecture. "Cargo holds also serve as space
for other things." He looked up. "Did you notice that the sickbay is
pretty big for this ship?" he asked. They looked at each other, some
nodding tentatively. "Support ships are built to take on wounded, or to
provide medical support when only limited support is locally available,” he
said. “More on that later...”

"Hey, look out, don't touch
that!" he grabbed Mindy's hand and jerked it away from the open plasma
conduit.

"OW! You’re hurting me! Let
go! I was just looking!" she squealed indignantly. She jerked her hand
away and rubbed it, looking up at him hurt.

He sighed. "Young lady,
sticking your hand near that could have gotten you hurt or even killed. You
work in the sickbay, you should know this!" Her bottom lip came up and out
in a pout. She sniveled, and then ran down the corridor sobbing.

He shook his head and looked over
to the guard with a bleak shrug. She shook her head in turn. "I'm not very
good with kids I guess," he said. She just stared at the bulkhead. He
sighed and dug into the kit. A half hour later the Chief came around the bend
and stopped, hands on her hips.

"Mindy is around the corner
nearby," Sprite informed him. He sighed and straightened as the Chief
cleared her throat.

"Yes Chief?" he asked.
He turned and gave her a look. She was standing there, hands on her hips.
Correction, one hand on her hip, the other tapping her pulser.

"I have a report that you
assaulted nurse Mindy?" she was clearly enjoying this. He gave the guards
a look. No help there.

"No ma'am, the young lady
was sticking her hand into an open conduit. I stopped her. Had I not she would
have killed herself and possibly caused damage to the ship. We're in hyper and
this...” he pointed his thumb over his shoulder to the conduit. "Feeds the
main deflector," he explained.

The Chief paled a little,
swallowing. "Be it as it may, I'm going to have to confine you to
quarters."

Tara cleared her throat. They
both looked at her. "Ma'am, He's telling the truth. Mindy was playing with
the conduit when we arrived. I was going to stop her but he beat me too
it," she said.

The Chief gave her a long look.
"You’re on report," she said coldly.

Tara scowled and then came to
attention. "Excuse me then." She turned to leave.

"I didn't say you could
leave," the chief said, icily. The guard froze. The Chief was not looking
at her, still staring at the Admiral.

 "I don't care anymore what
you say," Tara growled.

At that the chief did turn, eyes
suddenly afire. "You’re out of line," she hissed it.

The guard’s lips quivered.
"Maybe, but so are you. That kid was going to get herself killed and us
with her. You know it, but you can't get your head out of your ass long enough
to see that!" She snarled.

 The Chief's nostril's flared and
she half drew her pulser. The guard had her hand on hers. "Try me you
stupid paranoid bitch," she whispered. The other guard looking slack jawed
tried couldn't hear it. The Admiral with his enhanced hearing did.

"Don't test me Tara,"
the Chief whispered back.

Tara's eyes met hers and held
firm. "I'm not. I'm warning you. Knock it off. The crew is getting angry
at your needless crap," Tara snarled back. The other guard gulped. She'd
heard that.

The words were striking home with
the Chief, or she was realizing she had an audience. "Get out of my sight;
I'll deal with you later," the chief said. Tara shook her head. Her hair
danced.

"I think I'm putting in for
a transfer with the Captain," she said.

The Chief's nostrils flared once
more. "You can't do that."

 Tara gave her a sad look.
"I can't work like this Emily, I won’t. He's done nothing wrong, and
hurting him because you can't or won’t figure that out is wrong,” she stared
into her eyes. Both of them had loosened their grips on their guns.

"Go," the Chief said.
Tara turned and nodded to the Admiral as she passed. Defender spun his shields
down. He had been so focused on the argument, he hadn't noticed Defender had
initiated. The Chief gave him a long look, then left. He could hear Mindy
asking why she didn't arrest the mean man. The Chief snarled to her to get back
to work.

"Well, that was interesting.
Shall we?" he nodded to the remaining guard.

The Chief came into the Captain's
wardroom, head down scowling. "Grams, I have a problem..." she looked
up to see Tara standing there. "You bitch," she snarled, eyes
smoldering. Her hand lashed out, slapping her.

Tara recovered slowly, eyes
smoldering she reached for her gun but the crack of a palm on the desk stopped
her cold. "Draw and you go out the nearest airlock," the Captain's
commanding voice cut through the rage. The Chief kept her glare, hand on her
pulser. "Both of you," the captain's hoarse growl pierced her rage
like a knife. She turned in shock to the Captain. "I've had enough of this
crap. Tara, transfer approved. You’re in KP and on my shit list until
otherwise. Turn your security gear in to Frie and get out of my sight,"
the captain said. Tara came to attention then stiffly walked out. "And as
for you granddaughter..."

"You’re relieved," she
said coldly. The Chief was stunned. Her grandmother looked at her coldly.
"I told you three times to back off."

"But..."

"Silence," the one word
was enough to shock the woman further. Her eyes were wide. "Apologize to
the Admiral, then report to the doctor. I want a full medical evaluation. IF he
clears you, you’re going to do scut work for a week," she growled. Her
granddaughter's lips quivered. "I don't know what got into you
granddaughter, but it's time it ends. Now you’re going to have to work to get
back in my good graces."

“Captain, can I speak with you
privately?” the doctor asked as he looked out of her view screen. She sighed
then motioned for Charlie to leave. The woman left without a word. “What is it
doctor; I'm assuming it has something to do with my granddaughter?” she asked,
dreading the call. He nodded.

“Well doctor, don't keep an old
woman waiting,” she sighed. “Give it to me straight.”

He sighed. “I wish it was that
simple. I did a medical evaluation, there are some hormonal issues, but I don't
think they're the root problem. I sedated her and did a little digging into her
subconscious with hypnotics. She has some issues,” he said. He looked
uncomfortable.

“What sort of issues?” the
Captain asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Well, apparently she had been...
abused as a child.”

The Captain inhaled sharply. “I
never!”

He held up a restraining hand.
“No, not by you Captain, a male. Someone that looked a little like the Admiral.
He... well...” he shrugged helplessly.

The Captain closed her eyes in
sudden understanding. “I understand now,” she said slowly.

“Can you help her?” she asked,
and then opened her eyes.

He studied her. “The hormonal
repair is already underway. Her behavior though...” he grimaced. “According to
the medical records we've put together she needs tranquilizers and therapeutic
counseling,” he explained. The doctor sat back and set a tablet down in front
of him.

The Captain nodded. “Do it, my
authorization. Do what you can doc,” she ordered. He nodded and signed off.

"Can I be in your hyperspace
class?" Shandra asked, toying with her stylus. He wasn't sure if she was
mocking him or not. The meeting was going a lot smoother now that the chief was
no longer in the picture. Scuttlebutt said she was in sickbay for some reason.

The Captain looked over.
"Class on hyperspace?"

The Admiral cleared his throat. "Just
the basics, how it works, how to navigate in it."

She nodded. "When?"

He smiled. "1900
Captain."

She nodded. "I may just drop
in for that." Her gravelly voice was light and almost lilting. She had a
small smile. Shandra looked over to her and then smiled too. "Yeah, I
could always use a brush up." The Captain nodded sounding thoughtful.

He looked over the wardroom and
smiled. Most of the off duty bridge crew was there, as was the Captain. Shandra
was seated out front near the desk. "All right, before I begin, I'm going
to tap Shandra here to be my assistant," he said with a smile. A few
murmured at this, he picked up an undercurrent of jealousy. He nodded to her
uncertain face.

"The lecture I'm about to
give is on file, with notes in the ship's class website. Ask the moral officer
for help if you can't find it," he said. Some of them leaned over and took
notes on padds.

"Okay, remember when I said
all objects are made of matter, and all matter has mass, and therefore exerts
gravity?" he said diving right in. Many in the class nodded. He picked up
a membrane from the desk and handed it to Shandra. She looked confused.
"Hold it with both hands outstretched," he murmured. "So they
can see it." She got up and did so.

He turned and picked up a small
model of the ship. "Here we are. The membrane Shandra is holding
represents normal space time." He put the model in the center of the
membrane. The membrane stretched, and model sank. "Okay, the model
displaced a part."

He looked around some were
craning their necks to see. Shandra looked around, and then pivoted, turning so
each could see. "As you can see, the ship's mass displaces space around
it," he explained. He went over to the holo projector and pulled up a
graphic of the membrane. "Now the more mass an object has, the more space
it distorts," he said. He switched to a star, showing it, then others.