Chapter 3 – Scut Work
Every day, Clarke worked his tail off - checking, calibrating, repairing, and watch standing. "The best way to learn this cranky ship is to work it, take it apart, and put it back together, all under way. That's the method! Especially since we're always short handed."
And learn he did. Sandwiched in between work sessions, he read up on ship's systems, gradually met the crew and learned his way around. He was deep in the galley plumbing with gray goop dripping on him when he sensed someone behind him.
"Doesn't smell very nice, does it?" came a voice from over his shoulder.
With head buried in the panel he opened his mouth and grumpy words poured out. "No, it doesn't! Half the pipes in here are scrap! Fit for the bone yard. I canna' see how she keeps flyin'. If I had known this tub had such run-down systems…" He stopped. Peering through the opening, he could see an older grey-haired man listening to his outburst. Could it be? Oh, my, he thought; but stronger words were called for. Dropping tools he backed out of the panel and drew himself to attention in front of the two-and-a-half pipper. "Sir, I am sorry, sir!"
The man waved away his outburst. "It's OK, son. I'm the skipper; I guess you can see that. Lieutenant Commander Larson. I've been meaning to meet you, but it seems that my engineer has been keeping you busy."
"Aye, she has, Commander."
"I'm sure you wanted to be on a bigger, newer ship, but you'd be surprised how many trainees end up here. Grizzly may be small and old" he stressed the last word, "but we turn out a good number of ensigns."
"Aye, sir!" He felt that a critical moment had been passed.
"We also flunk out a few – like your predecessor." Larson could see the kid gulp when he heard that. He smiled. Let him sweat some. "But don't you worry! Let us do our thing and we'll bring you along."
"Yes, sir!"
He turned to go then stopped. "I've read your files. Sometime I'd like to talk a bit about how you managed to get the highest marks in Advanced Warp Drive Theory ever handed out at the Academy! I had old-lady Voreskas for that class, more than a few years ago. I'm sure there are a few new theories they've cooked up. Maybe you could teach us a thing or two, eh?" He smiled at the boy.
"Aye, aye, Commander. I'll do my best."
"I'm sure you will son. Carry on." Then he stalked off.
Lt. Clarke came into the compartment seconds later. "Mouthy at first with the skipper, weren't you? Watch that. Larson's a really good commander. Give him a chance."
"You heard all that, Lieutenant?"
"Son, there's not a lot that I don't hear on the Grizzly. Now, if you're done jawing, quit dripping slime on my deck, and get back to the pipes."
"Aye, aye. Lieutenant."
She started to leave but paused at the door. "And when you have that warp talk with Captain Larson, I want to be there too. Highest Warp Theory grades ever? Hmm." Then she walked away. "Don't forget to clean up this mess!" She threw the last words over her shoulder as she strode down the corridor.
The kid sagged against the bulkhead. He'd really torn it! First he insulted the ship, then Commander Larson forgave him, and now he gets to teach them the latest Warp Drive Theory? He blew out a shaky breath. But before that happened, he'd better get this recycler back together, or there would be hell to pay! He crawled back into the hole.
Lt. Clarke caught up with the skipper at the turbolift. "Commander, a word?" He nodded assent and waved her into the lift.
When the door had closed, Larson asked "Andra, what do you think of him?"
"Nils, if I had a whole troop just like him, we'd make this old bucket shine. I think we'd have every system in shape! Kid's a natural."
"Seems to have a bit of an accent, doesn't he?"
"Yes and I've noticed it gets worse when he's under stress. But it doesn't impair his performance that I can tell. I don't know where the Academy found him."
"He's from near Aberdeen, up in north Scotland. Young though, isn't he?"
"They all are, Nils. We've forgotten when we were his age."
He grimaced "No, Andra, I haven't forgotten." The rest of the trip to the Bridge they were quiet as they each thought of years gone by. Was Nils Larson really that old, he asked himself? He saw a fuzzy image of his sagging face in the polished door. Yes, he was. Maybe it was time to think about finding nice quiet duty somewhere else or maybe a cabin and trout stream? He gloomily pushed that thought aside.
