Approaching Extractor S6
Cycle 6002.638.24.75 W
As Mean had continued through the narrow passageways he was relieved to see all the bulkhead and overhead panels were still securely in place. Sticking to the narrow passageways meant there was less room to be thrown around as the craft was shaken again and again.
Mean liked the solidness of the main decks and levels of the craft. Working with the engineers to fix the leg joint while they were moving had been almost fun. A few bumps and bruises didn’t even warrant attention. Heading to engineering would be more uncomfortable.
Shoving the trolley awkwardly around another corner he arrived at the main passageway to engineering. He reluctantly headed out into the wider area and jammed the trolley’s breaks on. Mean managed to catch onto the hatches opening wheel before the next wave shook the craft.
This hatch had been nicknamed ‘vault door’ because it looked like an overly wide safe door. Mean felt it was more like the door to a firebox when the ship was pushed to its limits. The hatch’s electronic assistance was still off, so Mean caught his breath before spinning its wheel till the locks released and heaving to swing the heavy steel plate door open a little.
As soon as the door’s seal was broken, Mean felt the heat rush into the passageway. Engineering was technically an independent component of the craft that was coupled to the back of the main hull. While the ship part of the craft was well insulated, the engineering section was more affected by its surroundings.
Usually engineering would be cooled by the surrounding water. The sea temperature was rising as they got closer to the reactor. Engineering’s systems were working hard to store or release plasma and this was generating plenty of heat. Engineering was sweltering.
Mean had left just enough room to squeeze his trolley though the hatch and he again jammed on its brakes. As the craft swayed it slammed the hatch shut. Once he steadied, he wrenched the wheel to seal it again.
The vault door opened into a generous space considering the design of the rest of the craft. To starboard was engineering’s operations area. Long metal tables made something between a meeting area and project workshop. It had ghostly shadows hanging around it with only the emergency lighting on it.
It was also unusual to have all the engineering team all busy and away from the area. Instead the consoles were unattended despite blinking alerts and bleeping alarms. To port was the large door of engineering’s main storage area.
Mid-deck was a large freight elevator. The elevator appeared to travel inside the remains of an iron tree. Conduit and huge pipes followed ran along the elevators shaft, with thick cables weaving up it like vines. Beyond this the main deck turned into a lattice of catwalks and beams.
There was an upper pulse engine in each of the stern corners. The catwalks beside rested on top of the energy supply system for each sides engines. The hoses running from each unit to their three engines glowed and shook as the engines worked.
The gap in-between the engine arrays looked like it was shaped around the underside of a steeply sloping roof valley. Flickering light from the generator and supporting systems on lower decks made a halfhearted light show as it deformed over the surfaces.
So far so good, Mean though. None of the engines look like they’re turning into bombs yet. Better keep moving before the heat and fields mess with me. How can people work around here without noticing that uncomfortable feeling?
After his glance around Mean worked at the door release for the storage compartment. With a final twist it was free and another solid shove slid one door half open. Inside he slid the bent stabiliser onto a flat deck trolley that looked like it was the recycling trolley for today.
He did his best to put the tools back in their homes, then shoved the trolley and it’s remaining cargo in one of the slots under the stationary area for later sorting. Mean headed out of the storage area at a brisk stroll and heaved the door shut again.
He took a couple of breaths at the vault door till the craft leveled, then he shoved the door open again. Without the trolley he kept his pace wobbling down the large central passageway.
The central passageway headed through the craft toward the bow. There was a lift at the end that ran through the front chambers. It could handle slowly moving anything that you could fit on a vehicle size lift trolley. It gave access to the bridge and other service areas in the craft.
The bridge was only one level up. Mean ducked into a companionway before the lift. Despite the conditions throwing him around, using the ladder was still faster. Then it was only a few more steps to the entrance of the bridge. He swiped a wrist tag to gain entrance.
The doors opened and he quickly scanned to see why he’d been called to help. The bridge was slightly brighter than rest of the craft. It was bright enough to allow clear vision. He could make out more details of people from their posture to details of their clothes.
The bridge was only the starboard side of the long room. The port side housed the mission operations area that was used when they were mobile. Each side looked out a long slanting windshield. When lightening flashed the violent conditions outside were again revealed.
He couldn’t see anyone he should be obviously helping first. Most of the crew were seated where needed. A lot looked like they were nearly exhausted, stiffly holding themselves in place. All of the main areas of the bridge seemed to be functional.
The walls steel panels all seemed to still be secured by their heavy rivets. There was no temporary cable sprawled across the deck re-routing damaged connections. Things were shaking with the storm, but there were no vibrations indicating anything was loose or about to have issues.
The walkways were lit up in emergency lighting mode. All the consoles and tables displayed flickering readings. He looked again to see if anyone was looking for assistance.
Maybe I haven’t been called here for a repair, Mean thought. I guess I’d better find the captain and figure out what’s happening.
Andy Bureafoul was the captain. He was adjusting settings at a console table that was the control area for system configurations. Captain Andy was helping one of the crew that looked so worn out that they were struggling and firmly belted into their seat. Despite the rings under his eyes the captain gave a smile and calmly assisted.
In some ways Mean was envious of the captain. He got on with the crew and they called him captain out of respect despite knowing his name. He had tidy trim blond hair swept to one side and wore a neat set of the craft’s ‘leadership’ uniform. Also, unlike Mean, the captain could sit down with a pint of booze and chat with most of the crew after tough assignments.
Captain Andy had probably invited families around for barbecues and had a normal life when he was still with his wife. I wish I’d had some picture-perfect normalcy like that, Mean thought.
Mean had shuffled to one side when he entered the bridge, the door now slid closed behind him as he continued to watch. As he continued to look he noticed something he could help with.
Everyone was yelling to be heard over the noises of the forces colliding outside the craft and warning sounds bleeping urgently from many console tables. But the yells and looming position Inspector Franklin had taken were different.
As far as he could tell the inspector that had been forced upon them for this extractor stabilisation assignment, was hassling Lana. Lana was managing the dampening field part of one console. Mean didn’t waste any more time and wandered over.
“This is clearly another sign of how reckless and ill prepared this crew is despite being given generous funding,” the inspector was yelling. “Not only did you lose one of the craft’s legs due to not having the dampening field high enough. Now that you have finally turned the dampening field up, you and several other crew don’t even have the physical capability to perform your duties.”
Mean could only make out words of the girls reply.
“… impossible task… dampening field usage is calculated…” were bits of Lana’s reply that could be heard.
Mean was surprised the girl didn’t let the inspector have it. His other main role on the craft, was to help as a security team member. Lana drew a lot of attention. When she first showed up, Mean had often been assigned as her security when they had shore leave.
On shore leave when strangers approached she quickly shot down anyone that bothered her. In those situations, he wasn’t sure if he was protecting her from the public or the public from her.
Was it the rough conditions or having someone that had worked their way higher in the rat-race that had put Lana on the defensive? Mean wondered.
It was almost surreal to see the official having a go at her despite his face having a green tinge of sea sickness. Mean showed up at the dampening field console and said nothing.
Despite unhealthy colour to his face the inspector turned to have a go at Mean. “What do you want, are you too stupid to talk? Or are you a convict they’ve freed and sent to try to intimidate me?” the inspector almost spat out.
Mean found it easy to ignore the insults as he slowly circled at the end of the desk. Often when they were moored at ports Mean’s security shifts would be at the shore end of the gang plank. Their craft often drew a small crowd when it showed up at docks. It looked like it had been built from four-year-old’s angular drawing of a huge barn-sized crab.
Security wise showing up at ports created problems. Angry drunks would often stumble over trying to pick a fight. Occasionally Mean had also had to turn away officials with no reason to intrude. Their craft’s large supplementary high council funding and main mission to reduce the output of unstable extractors meant its existence was a political nightmare.
The craft’s equipment for stabilising extractors and fixing the fallout of neglected ones was expensive. Mean still found it frustrating that a theft he had prevented, had added to some crew members wariness of him. He had sensed something was wrong on a security shift and jumped into the ocean.
While Mean’s mind had wandered, the inspector had continued his insults like a little dog barking angrily.
Mean continued circling at the end of the desk.
Then scrawny inspector bent over and threw up over the well-tailored pants of his suit and elegant dress shoes. The craft was smashed by another wave which sent the inspector crashing to the deck where he passed out in his own vomit. As the craft swayed he slid limply through his vomit and into Lana’s console table.
Mean grabbed him by leg and dragged him to a clear patch of the wall.
There was cabling for console desk repairs just by the wall. He threaded it through a deck anchor at the base of the wall and tied the official’s feet. Moving to the next anchor he finished securing the man in something like a recovery position. He halfheartedly poked around with the ring end of his number ten spanner to check his airway was clear.
While Mean had sorted the unconscious official, Neodig showed up with a mop, bucket and towels bundled under one arm.
The kid moves funny, Mean though as the boy moved around the swaying craft. He’s still ultra naive but moves with trained precision. The only way that sort of clash could be weirder was if someone taught a puppy kung fu.
“Ah you’re still standing work experience kid.” Mean greeted the boy. “I guess it figures if your dad was some hotshot in the navy.”
“Something like that,” the boy said uncertainly. “How do we best clean up?” he asked leaning into the mop to steady himself as the craft shook yet again.
The boy was in comfortably fitting crew polo and black pants. His father had requested that he be let onto the ship to gain life experience after finishing school and still lacking direction a couple of years later. He clearly had training to still be walking around when other gym junkies on the crew were worn down.
His blond hair and deformity free physique didn’t bother him as much as with the captain. The kid’s green eyes sparkled brightly and he often was overly excited. Mean had heard several crew wondering if he had been sent to them because he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.
Is this kid ever going to be reliable? Mean wondered. He could have at least stood behind Lana to attempt to support her when the inspector was having a go. At least he’s stopped hiding and is trying to help now.
Mean got Neodig started on the clean-up, “Chuck us a couple of those towels.”
He folded one of the towels he was thrown and used it to sweep the chunkiest bits of vomit into a pile. A brush and dustpan made it easier for Mean to scoop the gross mess into the other towel he had laid on the deck. Throwing the soiled towel in as well, he had a load for the tub in the cleaners’ station just across the passageway from the bridge.
Mean tried to force his face into a reassuring smile like the captain had made. “It’s all ready to clean up now. Do it quickly then use all those towels to dry up really well.”
Mean left as the kid fumbled into action. When he returned Neodig had done a decent job of mopping up. The kid stood on the buckets second pedal and it locked to the deck. Neodig looked unsure what do next.
“Like this,” Mean said, kneeling on the deck and giving the textured metal deck a vigorous rub with a fresh towel.
I suppose I’d better check on Lana, Mean though. It would really suck if the girl was shaken enough to cause a mistake that left the craft to be torn to pieces by the storm. Hopefully she won’t bite my head off. At least she’s not as bad as she was when she first showed up.
The crew joked people ended up working on the craft in the same kind of way that strays were saved from the pound. Lana had been an administrator for a council services agency. One of the two officers for the craft called Dueliet had connections that had asked them to take the girl in.
When she first showed up she had silky shoulder length hair that was died silver. Her figure and sourcing of a very flattering couple of sets of bridge uniform was met by much interest. Consensus among the crew was that she must have been the ruthless career focused sort. The general crew didn’t know the reason she was ended up with them so there was plenty of gossip.
These days Lana’s hair had returned to a silky black mane with some warm highlights in. Despite the inspectors insult she was in still efficiently stabilising herself in her seat without a seat belt despite the rough conditions.
Huh, so she’s not completely wasting countless hours at the gym going for a doll like figure, Mean mused. Now hopefully she won’t bite my head off if I check how she’s going.
“You all good?” Mean asked Lana.
She turned to face him with a fierce look. “We’re trying to survive a storm that would have ripped most other ships to shreds by now. I’m in charge of watching conditions to boost areas that need more support from the field. I’ve got engineering on my case to ration out power and trash like that inspector pointing out that I need to be able to do more.”
“On top of that, I haven’t had sleep for almost a day or a decent coffee for hours,” Lana continued. “And now you’re asking me if I’m good.”
“Okay, thanks,” Mean replied.
Yep, she’d be fine.
The captain was heading back to a sturdy seat in the middle of all of this. Despite being solidly muscled, he moved with smoothly controlled his steps. His cold blue eyes were half closed as he looked around. Mean started to head over to him, but Dueliet called him to the operations side of the room.
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Dezhanite Drafts 