by David Smith
Ignoring the Chief’s minions he strode forward to the office. The door didn’t open and there was no call button, so he banged loudly on the door to attract the attention of the Chief. As the Chief opened the door, Dave held out his hand and smiled as he said “Lieutenant-Commander Dave Hollins. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Chief.”
Dave took the Chiefs hand and shook it, but peering past the spectacles and into the little beady eyes beyond he got the distinct impression that this one would be very hard work.
“So Chief, you keep to an interesting work pattern. I hate to disturb you when you’re off duty, but frankly, my options are limited by your apparent absence of time actually on duty”.
The Chief looked hurt: “Try not to think of me as off-duty, sir, think of me more as poised and ready for action.”
Yep, trouble all the way, thought Dave. “I’m told you’re the ship’s fixer”
“I have been known to arrange the odd transaction, although I don’t let such things interfere with the running of the ship or my Department.” he said with practised false modesty.
“Glad to hear it Chief” replied Dave, “So who had the vibrating water bed?”
“That was the Captain, just a little sweetner to seal a deal I’d been working on. You may not have heard yet, but the Skipper is a legend in his own bedtime.”
“Nothing illegal I trust? The deal, I mean, not the skipper’s bedtime habits.”
“We’re men of the world ExO…... illegal is such a……… relative term. My philosophy is that somethings are illegal…… but only if you get caught!” he smiled “I’m sure you and I can build a solid working relationship, all in accordance with Chief Money’s Theory of Trignometry!”
“I’m sorry? I’m not familiar with that theory, Chief.”
“It’s just an observation of a post-graduate of the school of life, sir. The marriage of mathematics, economics and personal philosophy. You see, just like triangles there are always three angles: the buyer’s angle, the seller’s angle and the middleman’s angle”
He winked at Dave “In my theory, the angles overlap, but the big margins are always in the Chief’s angle.”
“Indeed” nodded Dave. “Either way, I thought I’d best come down, make myself known and let you know that I’ll be taking a bit more of an interest in the supply team’s operations than Commander Joynes did. You do remember Commander Joynes don’t you? He was your previous senior officer. Theoretically in charge of all stores and supply issues?”
Chief Money’s smile nearly slipped, but he bit his lip and stayed silent.
“Of course, I haven’t spoken to Commander Joynes yet, but I believe from reading his staff reports that he’d not spoken to you for eighteen months or so as you weren’t available.” Dave stared his very best steely determined stare into the Chief’s eyes “Of course as Executive Officer, I’ll be taking those responsibilities on and will be able to devote much, much more time and effort to such things.”
Dave was satisfied to see the Chief swallow hard, and pressed on while he had the advantage.
“I’ll be setting duty rosters for the whole supply team Chief, and I’ll authorise all supply movements on and off the ship”
“Of course, sir” the Chief said through gritted teeth.
“Glad we’ve got off on the right foot Chief. Get your team to clear this mess: I’ll be back tomorrow and I want anything that’s not ships stores gone. I expect to see outward shipping notes for everything.”
“Yes sir”
Dave thought he heard the grinding of teeth.
“Thanks Chief!” He turned to leave but hesitated: “Oh, and one more thing Chief?”
“Yes sir?”
“No more shuttle races. Ever.”
“A temporary aberration on my part sir, I can assure you it won’t happen again” said the Chief from behind a very, very forced smile.
“Excellent!” beamed Dave, “See you tomorrow Chief”
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As he strode back to his quarters, Dave knew the Chief would already be rallying the troops and looking for ways to comply with the letter of his instructions whilst allowing his business to run as usual. He suspected this was merely the opening salvo of an epic battle and he’d already been warned to expect the Chief to play dirty. He’d have to be on his guard at all times or he’d be run ragged.
The Chief’s first return salvo landed as soon as Dave got to his quarters and sat down at his desk. The computer terminal pinged into life, and Dave found that, good as his word, the Chief had logged his transaction requests for all the items of non-ships stores. All 15,000 of them. Individually.
Each would need to be opened, checked, and approved, which could take weeks.
Nice move, Chief, thought Dave, and called the Steward to his quarters.
The Steward arrived shortly and Dave beckoned him in and sat him down at the desk again.
“So, Butler” started Dave “it would appear that Chief Money has resources far in excess of what I’d anticipated. He managed to log 15,000 stores transactions in the ten minutes it took me to get from Deck 10 to my quarters. “
The Steward frowned “The Devil has his acolytes sir. Everyone in the Supply Department answers to the Chief, but he does rely heavily on a few of his more capable staff.”
“I guess that’s what Command gets when it puts all it’s rotten eggs in one basket…..”
“You’re entitled to your opinion sir, but I believe that’s a little harsh. I wouldn’t argue that some of our eggs are indeed rotten. You might say some others are hard-boiled, some are a bit raw. You might have noticed the Science Officer is a bit scrambled. And Chief Burns is definitely pickled. But they’re not all rotten. It might take a while, but I’m sure you’ll find that we have some good eggs on board too” proposed the Steward.
“Ok, Butler, point taken. So who's the egg-head who master-minded this little stunt?” said Dave, stretching the egg theme just a little too far.
The Steward rubbed his chin reflectively and thought his way through the problem: “Well, something of this nature is unlikely to be arranged by PO Starr. He’s the ship’s party planner and does things like arranging the mud-wrestling nights. It wouldn’t be PO Winston either. He runs the Chief’s heavy gang, the muscle that shifts all the goods and loosens the reluctant purse strings, if you take my meaning. Maybe PO Okocha? He's fairly sharp? Runs lots of financial scams for the Chief. No, actually, now I think about it I suppose the only one who could have done this would be PO Park. Yes, it would be Petty Officer Park Si Yung. I don’t know him personally, but I hear he keeps Money’s accounts and runs the ship’s book. More particularly, he’s reputed to be an absolute bona fide computer genius.”
“If he’s that good, how come he’s not assigned to engineering so he can work on the new computer?”
“Because according to official record, he has no skills in that field of expertise”
“You think he just slipped through the net?”
“No sir, I think it far more likely that Chief Money noted his potential, carefully fished him out of the net and then even more carefully sealed it again afterwards.”
Hmmm. Food for thought.
“So how loyal are the Chief’s team?”
“Well there is honour among thieves, but I suspect that loyalty is more often enforced rather than earned. I’ve no doubt the Chief dangles the carrot and threatens with the big stick equally comfortably.”
“Thanks Butler, that might be enough to give me an edge”
After the steward had left, Dave asked the computer to provide him with PO Park’s personal file. To his surprise, the answer was instant:
“There is no crew member of that name currently assigned to USS Tiger”
Perplexed, Dave tried a different tack, calling up the roster for the Supply Department. If the PO was working for Chief Money he’d show up as one of his staff. A string of names appeared on Dave’s screen. He recognised some f
rom his previous research, and he spotted the hench-men the Steward had mentioned, Starr, Winston and Okocha, but again there was no sign of anyone called Park.
Dave called Engineering and was answered by the Duty Officer, Lieutenant Jonsen. “Hi, this is Lieutenant-Commander Dave Hollins, the Executive Officer. I’m pulling up crew records on my computer terminal, but what I’m getting seems to be incomplete. Is there a problem with data retrieval?”
Jonsen hesitated before replying. “We've been experiencing issues with the computer for quite some time now, sir.”
“Does it have a virus?”
“No, not a virus, more like a genetic abnormality. If computers could breed, we’d sterilise this bugger to protect the rest of the population. Probably best if you ask Commander Cassini ….. “ there was a distinct pause “… actually, sir, it would be best if you asked Lieutenant-Commander Romanov to bring you up to speed”
“Oh.” Not what he’d hoped to hear. “Ok, I’ll come down.”
Engineering. Deck 19. Fifteen decks down. If nothing else this assignment to USS Tiger would keep him fit.
Thinking that it would be best to stay on the right side of the ships senior engineer, he decided to call ahead to Engineering to let Commander Cassini know he was coming down. He pressed the icon for the Chief Engineer’s office.
“What?”
Dave was slightly taken aback by the abrupt answer, but pressed on. “This is Lieutenant-Commander Hollins, the new Executive Officer.” The line went dead. Dave checked the circuit to see if there was a fault, but it appeared to have been terminated from the other end. He touched the icon again.
“What??” said the same voice, but in a clearly more agitated manner.
“This is the ExO, I’d like to see you Commander” said Dave hurriedly, hoping to convey his intent before being cut off again.
“Not now, I’m busy!” The line went dead again.
Dave sighed. Why couldn’t anything be easy? He just hoped he’d get a better reception after the fifteen deck hike to Engineering.
Fifteen minutes later he reached the door to the main engineering deck and paused to gather his thoughts and his breath. He stepped forward and the door swished, but failed to open completely. Through the gap Dave could see a hive of activity, but he wasn’t sure he could fit through the gap. He took a step back to give the recalcitrant door a second chance.
The door swished, then ground to a halt, only a few centimetres further open than it had been before. Dave stood back to give the door a third and final chance, but it didn’t even close as he stepped away. It shuddered, there was a clunk and the door panels dropped slightly, coming to rest at an angle that made it clear they were completely inoperable.
Sighing, Dave turned sideways and tried to squeeze through the gap. He couldn’t quite make it and exhaled as deeply as he could before forcing himself further in. His was disappointed to find he still couldn’t squeeze much further through, then suffered a moment of panic as he realised he couldn’t go backwards either.
He squirmed and pushed and twisted but was now firmly stuck and couldn’t even breathe in. He forced himself to be calm and think of how to extricate himself, but his calm was replaced by panic as he saw a tiny blonde woman in an engineer’s uniform rushing towards him, screaming in what appeared to be Russian and wielding a very, very large hammer “кровопролитные двери!!!”.
The hammer swung through air and either through near-asphyxiation of maybe just plain fear, Dave saw it in ultra-slow-motion as it arc’d towards his head. Dave closed his eyes waiting for the impact, but it missed his head and smashed into the panel beside the door with a thunderous clang.
With that, the doors sprang apart and Dave tumbled into the engine room, landing in an untidy, gasping heap. He looked up to see the tiny women glaring at him with the hammer still held in a distinctly unfriendly attitude. “Who are you? What do you want?” she growled.
“Lieutenant-Commander Hollins, new ExO” he gasped.
“Oh. Sorry. Lieutenant-Commander Olga Romanov, Deputy Engineering Officer” she said looking slightly sheepish, and held out her hand. Dave went to shake it, but was immediately and bodily hauled onto his feet.
Wow. Stronger than she looked, thought Dave, although he knew he should perhaps have expected it, having seen the ease with which she wielded a hammer that must weigh at least five kilos. There was the distinct scent of vodka around her, and Dave noticed several bottles of clear spirit (mostly empty) dotted around various consoles. Behind him the doors twitched, and with another tirade of exotic expletives, the engineer sprang past him and belted the panel beside the door so hard it hurt Dave’s ears.
The duralinium alloy from which the doors and bulkheads were made was light but incredibly resilient. However, Dave could see huge, suspiciously hammer-shaped dents around the edge of the doors that indicated Romanov opened the doors in this manner on a regular basis. The pounding meted out by Romanov seemed to have the desired effect, though, and the doors closed meekly.
Before she could hit anything (or anyone) else Dave said “I’ve come to see the Chief Engineer, Commander Cassini.”
“Oh, that idiot!” she said. Dave raised an eyebrow, but Romanov either didn’t see it, or didn’t care. “He’s in his office on the upper level being a complete ass-hole. If you want any answers, come see me or Chief Deng when you’ve had enough of that Отход кожи”
She stormed off down the deck, shouting a stream of instructions as she went and scattering the engineering staff in her wake.
Like all “Constitution” class vessels, the engine room had an upper level from whence the duty senior engineer manned and monitored the main control panels for the engines and warp-core, and could cast a watching eye over all operations on the main engineering deck below.
At one side of the upper level was the Engineer’s office, a small compartment normally used as a ready room for the senior engineer on duty. Dave ascended to the upper level, approached the door to the office and pressed the call button.
There was no reply, so Dave pressed it again, having been told by Romanov that the Commander was definitely in there. At least this time he got a reply, even if it was “Go away, I’m busy!”
Sighing, Dave pressed it for the third time, and as soon as the channel opened he said “This is the ExO sir, I really must speak to you”
There was a pause and the door opened. Before Dave could even enter, the voice of Commander Cassini said “Have you any idea how much pressure there is on the Engineering Department of the Fastest Ship in the Fleet? I’m extremely busy, you can have two minutes”
Mindful that Commander Cassini did outrank him, Dave checked the time and stepped in. Cassini was sat at his desk, a large cup of coffee steaming in front of him. Dave could see his dark, wavy hair and aquiline nose but little else as he didn’t even look up from the sheaf of reports scattered across his desk. “I’ll keep it brief Commander. I believe that there are significant problems with the computer and I need to get them resolved as a matter of urgency.”
“That’s exactly what my Department have been trying to do for the last year, so shut up and go away.”
Dave tried again: “So how long do you think it will be before your team resolve the problems?”
“Never, if you don’t stop bothering me with your incessant prattle. I will get the computer working and I will complete repairs to the warp-drive and other systems. Then I will contact you when I am ready. Now get out of my engine room.”
“Commander, we’re on the same side here and as they always said at the Academy, there’s no “I” in team…..”
“The Academy is full of incompetent fools, who have no appreciation of real-world engineering. There’s no “I” in team, but there are three in “Shut up, get out of my engine room and mind your own business.” Do I make myself clear?”
Dave had hoped to see some sign of competence to give him confidence, but instead he could now understand why the
Commander had been through so many postings.
Taking his leave he headed back to the lower level and found Lieutenant-Commander Romanov waiting for him. “See what I mean?” she asked and just for a second, Dave thought she smiled.
The scowl returned and she barked orders at a couple of unfortunate engineers before she casually offered information that was actually of use.
“Your issue with the computer is only the tip of our ice-berg. The warp drive is currently off-line due to failure of the dilithium focusing system. Our propulsion Lieutenant Jonsen has managed to stabilise the crystal matrix but it’s extremely fragile and won’t regenerate. The replacements we ordered several months ago have not arrived. We also have huge issues with the power distribution system and the transporters and replicators”
She looked concerned as she continued “However, those are not our main concern. Transporters and replicators we can make do without. We could probably get the drive system back on line, but there’s no point because the computer won’t interface with the drive controls. That is our main problem. We’ve tried every trick in the book and then some, but that bloody computer is just bat-shit crazy.”
“Pardon?”
“It’s mad. It’s a loony-toon. Totally, utterly bonkers. The personality matrices won’t mesh properly and none of the engrams used to build the basic computer identity seem to be able to assert any dominance. The stupid thing is near schizophrenic. We’ve even tried getting the ship’s Counsellor to talk to it.”
“Did that help??”
“Not even slightly. He lost it and attacked the unit with his Katana sword”
Dave looked across the engine room to the computer module “Those don’t all look like marks a sword would make?”
“The dents are from my previous attempts to ….. re-programme it” she said slightly sheepishly.
“I guess that explains the long thin gashes and the big dents. What are the scorch marks and the little round holes?
