our needs.”
She looked up at him from her datapad. “’It meets your needs?’ That’s the best you can do? At full operational capability, that replicator can build any parts you need, not just nuts, bolts and conduit casings.” The datapad beeped. “Well that’s unfortunate.”
“What is?”
“Someone apparently decided to try and make restricted technology without the proper codes. The replicator automatically locked down. Thankfully, the chips didn’t melt.”
“They melt?” Ka’Xarian looked worried.
“If you try to bypass the lockouts, the replicator self-destructs. Luckily, whoever did this was smart enough to stop when they did. Now, it’s just a matter of entering my codes and updating the software. Then we’ll have to go through and refurbish this baby. It’s been neglected for almost a century. I’m impressed at how well you’ve managed to keep the ship going, even with such limited support facilities.”
“Now you’re just being insulting.” Ka’Xarian leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his upper thorax. His tone was light, though, indicating he wasn’t really insulted. “What are you doing?”
What she was doing was pressing her thumb to the right side data jack. She didn’t have the serious cybernetics that some did; she couldn’t morph her fingers or hands, she couldn’t jump sixty feet into the air with enhanced musculature or robotic limbs. What she did have was a standard military implant package which gave her the ability to access computer systems, run scans on nearby objects, among other things. Implants were handy to have, though she had found that some people relied on them too much. She wondered how many people in this time had implants. None of the crew she’d met so far did.
Shoving that thought aside, she concentrated on her task. “Good, it’s only in lockdown. I was afraid that the idiot who did this had actually tried to force the replicator after it locked. Just be another minute.” Her implants also included optical enhancements, as well as a HUD that would pop up on the edges of her vision. It helped a great deal with target acquisition when she was in the starfighter corps, and with enhancing data that she would see. She could (and did) also use the implants to record conversations, and to keep shots of things she saw and heard for later replay. Now, she could see scrolling text and numbers, and with a thought, she added her codes to the text, which now began blinking a bright magenta on her HUD. With another thought, she ended the lockdown, which had been in place for decades, and then, just like that, the replicator reactivated.
The lights on the front panel suddenly came to life, as did the screen and controls. “There,” she said, with a self-satisfied sigh. “All set.” She let go of the replicator and turned back to the zheen engineer.
Ka’Xarian was gaping at her. “You did it.” His voice was unbelieving.
She smiled, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. “You don’t know me that well yet. When I say I’m going to do something, I follow through!” She stooped and picked up a piece of burned conduit. Opening the feeder door, she gently set it inside and closed the door behind it. Through the transparent viewport, she could see the item begin to dissolve, looking as though it was melting, or as though the replicator was pouring concentrated acid onto it. “That’ll take a few minutes. In the meantime…” She punched a few buttons on the control pad. A green light turned red and a countdown clock began running down from four
She looked up at him from her datapad. “’It meets your needs?’ That’s the best you can do? At full operational capability, that replicator can build any parts you need, not just nuts, bolts and conduit casings.” The datapad beeped. “Well that’s unfortunate.”
“What is?”
“Someone apparently decided to try and make restricted technology without the proper codes. The replicator automatically locked down. Thankfully, the chips didn’t melt.”
“They melt?” Ka’Xarian looked worried.
“If you try to bypass the lockouts, the replicator self-destructs. Luckily, whoever did this was smart enough to stop when they did. Now, it’s just a matter of entering my codes and updating the software. Then we’ll have to go through and refurbish this baby. It’s been neglected for almost a century. I’m impressed at how well you’ve managed to keep the ship going, even with such limited support facilities.”
“Now you’re just being insulting.” Ka’Xarian leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his upper thorax. His tone was light, though, indicating he wasn’t really insulted. “What are you doing?”
What she was doing was pressing her thumb to the right side data jack. She didn’t have the serious cybernetics that some did; she couldn’t morph her fingers or hands, she couldn’t jump sixty feet into the air with enhanced musculature or robotic limbs. What she did have was a standard military implant package which gave her the ability to access computer systems, run scans on nearby objects, among other things. Implants were handy to have, though she had found that some people relied on them too much. She wondered how many people in this time had implants. None of the crew she’d met so far did.
Shoving that thought aside, she concentrated on her task. “Good, it’s only in lockdown. I was afraid that the idiot who did this had actually tried to force the replicator after it locked. Just be another minute.” Her implants also included optical enhancements, as well as a HUD that would pop up on the edges of her vision. It helped a great deal with target acquisition when she was in the starfighter corps, and with enhancing data that she would see. She could (and did) also use the implants to record conversations, and to keep shots of things she saw and heard for later replay. Now, she could see scrolling text and numbers, and with a thought, she added her codes to the text, which now began blinking a bright magenta on her HUD. With another thought, she ended the lockdown, which had been in place for decades, and then, just like that, the replicator reactivated.
The lights on the front panel suddenly came to life, as did the screen and controls. “There,” she said, with a self-satisfied sigh. “All set.” She let go of the replicator and turned back to the zheen engineer.
Ka’Xarian was gaping at her. “You did it.” His voice was unbelieving.
She smiled, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. “You don’t know me that well yet. When I say I’m going to do something, I follow through!” She stooped and picked up a piece of burned conduit. Opening the feeder door, she gently set it inside and closed the door behind it. Through the transparent viewport, she could see the item begin to dissolve, looking as though it was melting, or as though the replicator was pouring concentrated acid onto it. “That’ll take a few minutes. In the meantime…” She punched a few buttons on the control pad. A green light turned red and a countdown clock began running down from four
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