“Could that be what was causing that strange bending noise on take-off?” the CO asked.
“Possibly, sir,” the Eng said, just as Tiny started a pre-yowl in the compartment. The hatch, however, was thick steel and Tiny never really sounded like a cat, anyway. “And then again, perhaps not. We’re still getting it from time to time.”
“Air in the sewage lines, sir,” Red piped up. “I’m telling you, it’s either air in the sewage or maybe in the water lines. I heard it on the Georgia one time.”
“It’s a bit of a debate, sir,” the Eng admitted. “But so far there is no indication of structural damage.”
“I’m hearing it, now, aren’t I?” the CO asked.
“Yes, sir,” the Eng admitted. “And that’s one indication that it wasn’t structural.”
“Well, track it down,” the CO said. “It’s annoying.”
“Will do, sir.”
“Whew,” Red muttered as soon as the CO was out of the gun compartment. “That was close.”
“Air in the sewage lines?” the Eng asked. “Air in the sewage lines?”
“Hey, sir, I could tell you were frozen,” the machinist said. “And I think I found the problem.” He held up a wire and pulled. The insulation stretched and then tore, revealing that the copper was just dust. “You were right.”
“What do you mean I was right?” the Eng said.
“That maulk about quantum flux, sir,” Red said. “This stuff is being degraded by something. Want to bet it’s a side effect of the generators?”
“But I was making that up!” the engineering officer said. “Maulk, maulk, maulk, maulk, maulk. That means we have to completely redesign the damned interface! And get it installed in transit! On both sides of the ship! How in the hell are we going to do that?”
“You’re joking, right?” Red said. “Not about what we’ve got to do, sir, but about how we’re going to do it. You’re joking.”
“No, I’m not,” the Eng replied. “We’re shorthanded as it is and the only person on this ship who could do a complete redesign is me. And I simply do not have the time.”
“Okay, he’s not joking,” Sub Dude said, sucking his teeth. “Sir, who designed this thing in the first place?”
“The Hexosehr,” the Eng snapped. “But we didn’t get the tech reps we were supposed to have!”
“Let me rephrase,” Gants said, shaking his head. “Who was in every single meeting handling the translation of our needs and interjecting her, and that’s a hint, comments on modifications. Who did most of the conversion of Hexosehr three-d sonar imagery into CAD? Who, sir? Who, for that matter, made all of the blueprints. Take a guess.”
“Damnit,” the Eng muttered. “Okay, I need to talk to Miss Moon. And the CO.”
“So now you want my help?” Miriam asked. “I’ve been going stir-crazy in my cabin since we left Earth and now you want my help? Is that what you’re saying?”
Captain Prael clenched his teeth and carefully did not point out that he knew for a fact she was getting at least daily visitors.
“Yes,” he said. “I, we, would like your help.”
“Shiny,” Miriam replied. “I’ll get right on it.”
“That’s it?” the CO asked. “No request for grovelling? No snide remarks?”
“I don’t do snide,” Miriam replied. “And just asking is probably killing you. Don’t worry about it. I’m used to men thinking that just because I’m pretty I have to be stupid. So I do the redesign and you have to, at least to yourself, eat crow. Being good is the best revenge anyone can have. Make that extraordinary.”
“Then thank you,” Prael said, trying hard not to growl. “When can we get the design?”
“Sir, I’d estimate at least a week,” the Eng said unhappily. “And redoing the installation will take much longer. I’m not even sure it’s feasible, given that we only have a limited quantity of molycirc.”
“I’ll have it tomorrow,” Miriam replied. “And it will take into account how much molycirc we have.”
“You’re joking,” the Eng said.
“I will see you tomorrow, Engineer,” Miriam said. “I have to get to work.”
With that she stood up and stomped out of the wardroom, four inch heels clacking furiously.
“No way,” the Eng said. “No way in hell. Sorry, sir, but there’s entirely too much detail to change. Doing that many CAD drawings is something that you’d usually give an entire team. And that is if you knew how you were going to change it. I’m still trying to figure that part out, and I’ve been doing this for twenty years.”
“Then we’ll see who eats crow,” Prael said, nodding. “I admit I’m torn. Everyone talks about how that little weirdo walks on water; seeing her taken down a peg would not make me unhappy. On the other hand…”
“We have to get the reinstallation done on both systems,” the Eng said, nodding unhappily. “And that, right there, is going to take more manhours than I can spare. The faster we get the plans…”
“Well, even if she’s done in a week, that will probably give us enough time,” the CO said. “Bring this to the attention of the XO, tell him that we got started on fixing it on his sleep shift and keep me apprised.”
“You’re joking,” Weaver said, yawning.
“No, we’re going to have to completely redesign and rebuild it, XO,” the Eng said unhappily. “The CO and I discussed it while you were off watch. About six hours ago.”
Like a lot of the professional officers on the Blade, Oldfield didn’t think much of his new XO. Yes, he knew that Weaver had done some terrific things — fight giant octopus thingies, space battles, first venturer into the treacherous shoals of outer space, save the world for that matter — but a person who had worked his way up the ladder had a hard time taking seriously a guy who had been fast-tracked to the Eng’s current rank and then bumped twice since. Nobody was that good. Besides, the guy was just a grouch.
“The design’s going to take at least a week, whatever Miss Moon says,” the Eng continued. “And as for the reinstallation…”
“Man, y’all are damn funny sometimes,” Weaver drawled. “By y’all I mean y’all wet navy characters. This here’s the Blade, Eng. Hellfire and damnation. We don’t diddle around with taking a week for something like this. Ain’t got the time, there’s always some alien space beast or enemy fleet trying to wipe us out. Can’t just go back to dry-dock and let the contractors handle it. It’s figure out the problem, fast, or die. And you say you told the CO at least a week for Miriam to do the plans? That maulk is just grapping funny.”
“Yes,” the Eng said, his face tight. “Do you find that questionable, Captain?”
“Maulk,” Weaver said, laughing. “Hell, yeah, I find that questionable. You do know she’s written about half the peripheral coding in AutoCAD, right? And that the company sends all their Alpha test systems to her, since she’s the fastest user they’ve ever tracked, right? That they had to rewrite one whole generation just because she proved she could crash it simply by going faster than the program could handle? And that she’s got enough classes to count for Ph.D.s in mechanical and electrical engineering and was the lead designer on this ship. A ship we designed, every last bolt and fastener, in less than a week? Most of it drawings that she did?”
“Oh,” the Eng said, his eyes wide.
“I’m kinda surprised she’s not already — ”
“Hi, Bill,” Miriam said, walking into the XO’s office. “You want to look over this redesign? I think I managed to fix it. It was my fault to begin with, I think. I figured out a way to run the circuits and cut off thirty percent of the circuit length. But I’ll admit I was hurrying the last time. I’ve been thinking about it since…”