Stardate N1C7C01.8879-Alpha-12. Earth Year 2378. ACS Aurora.
"Hey Tyler!"
I turned as Anton Y. Chekov ran up behind me. He was grinning massively, something that I found quite unusual. It was my first day working aboard the Alterra Capital Ship Aurora, the most advanced ship currently in service in the Alterra Fleet. We had just departed from the Diamorrus V Spacedock, and were departing for the Adrianne sector. I was assigned to Chekov's repair team, and I was quite surprised to find my section supervisor acting friendly towards me.
"Sir, what is…"
Chekov shook his head vigorously. "No, no. You are off duty, yes? When I am off duty, and any of my team are off duty, you are not to call me sir. Understood?"
"Yes si…yes…I actually don't know what to call you si…r."
He smiled, and extended his hand. "Call me Anton."
Five years later…
I sat in the workshop module, tinkering with the plasma pistol I had found aboard the Aurora. Sasha had gone to sleep hours ago, and I had found that I couldn't get back to sleep. Since finding the body of one of my best friends, I had been unable to sleep. I grabbed a laser spanner from a small toolbox, and absentmindedly fiddled with the settings on the Matter Converter Matrix inside the gun before me. I had hoped that Anton would of made it off the ship. He was a great guy, and always seemed to have uncanny luck in everything. I had seen him spend 200 credits in the shipboard casino, and win back triple that amount. That was also his biggest problem: he was a addict to gambles. No matter the situation, he would always raise the stakes and try to use the riskiest methods to get his work done. Chief Technical Officer Yu always used to call him 'the luckiest bastard in the department'. Guess he was wrong.
A few hours later, I was ready to give up on the damm plasma pistol. The device was in perfect condition, but would always give out when powered. On my 45th attempt, Sasha stumbled through the open hatchway into the workshop, a blanket draped around her shoulders.
"You do realise that it's 4:15 in the morning, right?"
I grimaced. "Just keeping watch. Why are you up?"
She groaned. "Your damm robot seems to have a dislike of my hair. He attempted to repair a hull breach-right on top of my head."
I smiled. "Should probably patch the software. Maybe you could help?"
She grinned, and gave a hesitant thumbs up.
The plasma gun sparked, and I looked down quickly.
"Shit! The plasma cartridge has breached."
I quickly went through the protocols I had memorised for repairing such a breach. I didn't have a fusion torch handy, my laser cutter didn't have enough voltage, and I also didn't have a priest handy to confess my sins to. My only option: improvise.
"Hand me that tension wrench!"
Sasha passed the device to me, and watched as I used it to bend the casing into a temporary seal. I managed to keep the casing intact, but both seal the breach and keep the cell in a shape that would fit into the plasma rifle. I grabbed my oxyacetylene torch, and began welding the metal back together. I cut power to the torch, and set the cartridge down on the table.
"That should do for now."
"What the fuck did you do? That welding torch could of set the entire seabase on fire!"
I grinned. "What I did was take a lesson from a old friend: I gambled a bit, and succeeded."
