from across the bridge.
Mitch Fitzroy crawled out from under a console with a sooty smear across the top of his face and a big smile across the bottom.
I noticed the captain for the first time when she said, “Bring us about, helm. Yaw ninety degrees port, flat.”
The helmsman replied with a crisp, “Yaw ninety degrees port, flat, aye, sar,” and the big planet outside the front port began to slide off to starboard.
“Mr. Kelley, if you could provide a small vector adjustment so we miss that planet, I’d be grateful,” the captain said with a wry smile.
“Aye, aye, Captain. All ahead full and damn the red lines,” he replied.
There was a slight moving-lift sensation in my inner ear and as it faded so did the tension on the bridge.
“Have we sufficient fuel, Mr. Kelley?” the captain asked.
“Yes, Captain. We’ll miss it. Although you may want to straighten the ship as we go by so the stern doesn’t bump,” he said.
The way everybody chuckled at that, I assumed it was a joke.
Mr. von Ickles grabbed a roll of tape and ran a couple of strips across the portable so it wouldn’t slide off the console, being careful not to cover any critical heat vents or data ports.
Then he patted me on the shoulder and said, “Come on, Mr. Wang. I’ve got another little test for you.” Over his shoulder he said, “We’re headed over to Systems Main, Captain.”
“Thank you, Mr. von Ickles. Carry on.”
He left at a near trot and I followed right behind him. Systems Main was right under the bridge. I don’t know what I was expecting, but certainly something larger than we ended up at. It was the size of a closet—a walk-in one, but still a closet.
“Follow your nose, Mr. Wang,” he said. “There’s at least one burned board down here. We need to find and replace it.”
He started opening panels and sniffing on one side, so I started on the other. It was tight but we worked side by side. The fourth door I opened, I didn’t need to smell. I saw a puff of smoke get sucked out by the back draft from opening the door. “Found one. Or two,” I said.
Mr. von Ickles stepped up beside me and squeezed down to look in. “Yup. Phew. I hate that smell.”
He unclipped a couple of latches and the interior of the cabinet rolled out. He showed me where to release the door hinge so it would fold back against the next door and we were able to see the entire rack at once. There were about thirty-five cards mounted in the rack. At least half of them were scorched.
“Looks like it got a little hot in here,” he said. “I wonder why. Okay We need to pull all this crap out and replace them. It’s part of the main ShipNet communication array and probably the reason the net is down. The network routers need these controllers to stay in sync across all the peripheral systems.”
“My portable is carrying all this?” I asked.
He laughed. “No, your computer is carrying just enough for the control systems to talk to the instrumentation. There’s no supporting databases and half the instruments on the ship are reporting a malfunction just because the data they need for calibration isn’t available. Lesson later. Parts now.”
“Tell me what to do.”
“Move over,” he said, and slid on his back under the drawer and out beside my feet. “The power bus is the blue cable in the back. Pull it and that’ll take power off this cage.”
I found it, released the safety catch, and unplugged it. A sizzling I hadn’t been aware of stopped.
“Good. Now pull the cards. All of them and toss ’em out in the passage so they’re not underfoot. Don’t worry about breaking them. I’m going to get replacements and pray we have the full set.” He looked again down into the cage. “We should. Most of these are standard router and comm boards.” He smiled at me. “I love standardized parts! Now don’t just stand there. The clock is ticking. I need you to keep treating all this like a test and focus.”
And with that,
Mitch Fitzroy crawled out from under a console with a sooty smear across the top of his face and a big smile across the bottom.
I noticed the captain for the first time when she said, “Bring us about, helm. Yaw ninety degrees port, flat.”
The helmsman replied with a crisp, “Yaw ninety degrees port, flat, aye, sar,” and the big planet outside the front port began to slide off to starboard.
“Mr. Kelley, if you could provide a small vector adjustment so we miss that planet, I’d be grateful,” the captain said with a wry smile.
“Aye, aye, Captain. All ahead full and damn the red lines,” he replied.
There was a slight moving-lift sensation in my inner ear and as it faded so did the tension on the bridge.
“Have we sufficient fuel, Mr. Kelley?” the captain asked.
“Yes, Captain. We’ll miss it. Although you may want to straighten the ship as we go by so the stern doesn’t bump,” he said.
The way everybody chuckled at that, I assumed it was a joke.
Mr. von Ickles grabbed a roll of tape and ran a couple of strips across the portable so it wouldn’t slide off the console, being careful not to cover any critical heat vents or data ports.
Then he patted me on the shoulder and said, “Come on, Mr. Wang. I’ve got another little test for you.” Over his shoulder he said, “We’re headed over to Systems Main, Captain.”
“Thank you, Mr. von Ickles. Carry on.”
He left at a near trot and I followed right behind him. Systems Main was right under the bridge. I don’t know what I was expecting, but certainly something larger than we ended up at. It was the size of a closet—a walk-in one, but still a closet.
“Follow your nose, Mr. Wang,” he said. “There’s at least one burned board down here. We need to find and replace it.”
He started opening panels and sniffing on one side, so I started on the other. It was tight but we worked side by side. The fourth door I opened, I didn’t need to smell. I saw a puff of smoke get sucked out by the back draft from opening the door. “Found one. Or two,” I said.
Mr. von Ickles stepped up beside me and squeezed down to look in. “Yup. Phew. I hate that smell.”
He unclipped a couple of latches and the interior of the cabinet rolled out. He showed me where to release the door hinge so it would fold back against the next door and we were able to see the entire rack at once. There were about thirty-five cards mounted in the rack. At least half of them were scorched.
“Looks like it got a little hot in here,” he said. “I wonder why. Okay We need to pull all this crap out and replace them. It’s part of the main ShipNet communication array and probably the reason the net is down. The network routers need these controllers to stay in sync across all the peripheral systems.”
“My portable is carrying all this?” I asked.
He laughed. “No, your computer is carrying just enough for the control systems to talk to the instrumentation. There’s no supporting databases and half the instruments on the ship are reporting a malfunction just because the data they need for calibration isn’t available. Lesson later. Parts now.”
“Tell me what to do.”
“Move over,” he said, and slid on his back under the drawer and out beside my feet. “The power bus is the blue cable in the back. Pull it and that’ll take power off this cage.”
I found it, released the safety catch, and unplugged it. A sizzling I hadn’t been aware of stopped.
“Good. Now pull the cards. All of them and toss ’em out in the passage so they’re not underfoot. Don’t worry about breaking them. I’m going to get replacements and pray we have the full set.” He looked again down into the cage. “We should. Most of these are standard router and comm boards.” He smiled at me. “I love standardized parts! Now don’t just stand there. The clock is ticking. I need you to keep treating all this like a test and focus.”
And with that,
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