Chapter 10: Ideas, please?
It was maybe half an hour later that the hatch hissed open and someone else in a flight suit came in. I was elbow-deep in wires at the time, and had been awake and working for something like ten hours straight. Work where I couldn't afford to make even one mistake and sometimes I had to guess. Not to mention killing a friend, nearly dying and losing my home world.
"Captain Adama, sir," someone said and I perked my ears up. The son of the new Fleet Commander - what was he doing here? I shook my head. Of course he'd come to see what we had, given we could very well be the only armed ship in the convoy, not to mention the stuff in the hold of interest to a fighter pilot. "Pass the soldering iron, please, Jesse," I said. He did so absently, looking over at our visitor. I glanced up, glanced again and went back to work.
"What do you think?" he asked me softly, even though with the size of the cargo bay we could have shouted and he wouldn't have heard us. He was talking busily with Derrick.
"I think he knows how good-looking he is. As for his military ability, I'll see before I judge." I frowned. "Bloody hellfire."
"What? What's wrong?"
"These wires are fused to the inside of the hull plating. No wonder stuff kept shorting out."
"Well, we're screwed."
"No, we cut the wires short of the melted bits and piece in spares. The trick is going to be doing that without ruining the insulation. This is going to be interesting."
"How's it going?" The Captain asked. I looked down at him. I don't know why, but it surprised me that he was shorter than me.
"Alright," Jesse said.
"Don't suppose you know what this lot does, do you?" I held up another cluster of wires. "No one here seems to. I have to guess at bits."
"Can I have a closer look?"
"Jesse, budge up, will you? Thanks." I edged aside to make room for the Captain on the ladder. "I know what this stuff connects to, I just don't know what it does."
"It's the secondary guidance links. Modem lines between computers."
"And?"
"And what?"
"The way you said that makes it sound like I can't just rip them out."
"It was designed so the same wires carried power and information. You can't get rid of one without cutting the other."
"Oh, rapture," I groaned. "Ideas, please?"
"Can't you just replace them with straight power cabling?" Sarashiko asked me. "That's what I'd do." A tone of voice like I'm an idiot; it made me want to hit him, but he was too far away.
"Viper Mark 7's use a highly specific alloy in their power cables, and I don't know what goes into it. The whole idea is that it won't melt even if part of it gets heated to ten thousand degrees. It's metal, for extra strength and ease of splicing new cables, and all the cabling on the Starsong designed for that kind of heat is fiberoptic. Not only that, it's all the wrong resistance. The Mark 7's are the only ships built that use that wire. I'd have to re-shape it from scratch. I guess I'd better start dismantling that Raptor, there should be some compatible stuff in the navigational array."
A hand on my arm stopped me. "Where'd you learn all this stuff?" A glimmer of respect met my eyes as I looked at him.
"My grandfather was a hangar mech for forty-five years. I planned to study engineering, and I spent a lot of time letting him teach me how to fix everything mechanical or electrical I could get my hands on. This is just on a bigger scale." I looked around at the blackened debris all over the bay. "And I don't know what I'm doing this time around. I hope your old man's Battlestar has some decent mechs on board. We're about hitting our limits of what we can fix." I slid down the ladder and reached for my toolkit.
"Are you alright?" he asked me as I rubbed at my face.
"Nothing a bucket of coffee won't fix," I said. "But you've been up for longer, I'd guess, and you're still on your feet. I've got no cause to complain."
"You're not Fleet."
"I'm not sure that matters any more." I started pulling up floor panels in the Raptor. "Oh, gross."
"What?"
"Someone left their chewing gum down here." I could see him fighting back the urge to laugh. "Zebra, who do you know who chews peppermint gum?"
"No one," he said, staring. "That's a disgusting habit. Not to mention against regs."
"Remind me to file a complaint," Panther said dryly. "Who's our supervisor again?"
It was maybe half an hour later that the hatch hissed open and someone else in a flight suit came in. I was elbow-deep in wires at the time, and had been awake and working for something like ten hours straight. Work where I couldn't afford to make even one mistake and sometimes I had to guess. Not to mention killing a friend, nearly dying and losing my home world.
"Captain Adama, sir," someone said and I perked my ears up. The son of the new Fleet Commander - what was he doing here? I shook my head. Of course he'd come to see what we had, given we could very well be the only armed ship in the convoy, not to mention the stuff in the hold of interest to a fighter pilot. "Pass the soldering iron, please, Jesse," I said. He did so absently, looking over at our visitor. I glanced up, glanced again and went back to work.
"What do you think?" he asked me softly, even though with the size of the cargo bay we could have shouted and he wouldn't have heard us. He was talking busily with Derrick.
"I think he knows how good-looking he is. As for his military ability, I'll see before I judge." I frowned. "Bloody hellfire."
"What? What's wrong?"
"These wires are fused to the inside of the hull plating. No wonder stuff kept shorting out."
"Well, we're screwed."
"No, we cut the wires short of the melted bits and piece in spares. The trick is going to be doing that without ruining the insulation. This is going to be interesting."
"How's it going?" The Captain asked. I looked down at him. I don't know why, but it surprised me that he was shorter than me.
"Alright," Jesse said.
"Don't suppose you know what this lot does, do you?" I held up another cluster of wires. "No one here seems to. I have to guess at bits."
"Can I have a closer look?"
"Jesse, budge up, will you? Thanks." I edged aside to make room for the Captain on the ladder. "I know what this stuff connects to, I just don't know what it does."
"It's the secondary guidance links. Modem lines between computers."
"And?"
"And what?"
"The way you said that makes it sound like I can't just rip them out."
"It was designed so the same wires carried power and information. You can't get rid of one without cutting the other."
"Oh, rapture," I groaned. "Ideas, please?"
"Can't you just replace them with straight power cabling?" Sarashiko asked me. "That's what I'd do." A tone of voice like I'm an idiot; it made me want to hit him, but he was too far away.
"Viper Mark 7's use a highly specific alloy in their power cables, and I don't know what goes into it. The whole idea is that it won't melt even if part of it gets heated to ten thousand degrees. It's metal, for extra strength and ease of splicing new cables, and all the cabling on the Starsong designed for that kind of heat is fiberoptic. Not only that, it's all the wrong resistance. The Mark 7's are the only ships built that use that wire. I'd have to re-shape it from scratch. I guess I'd better start dismantling that Raptor, there should be some compatible stuff in the navigational array."
A hand on my arm stopped me. "Where'd you learn all this stuff?" A glimmer of respect met my eyes as I looked at him.
"My grandfather was a hangar mech for forty-five years. I planned to study engineering, and I spent a lot of time letting him teach me how to fix everything mechanical or electrical I could get my hands on. This is just on a bigger scale." I looked around at the blackened debris all over the bay. "And I don't know what I'm doing this time around. I hope your old man's Battlestar has some decent mechs on board. We're about hitting our limits of what we can fix." I slid down the ladder and reached for my toolkit.
"Are you alright?" he asked me as I rubbed at my face.
"Nothing a bucket of coffee won't fix," I said. "But you've been up for longer, I'd guess, and you're still on your feet. I've got no cause to complain."
"You're not Fleet."
"I'm not sure that matters any more." I started pulling up floor panels in the Raptor. "Oh, gross."
"What?"
"Someone left their chewing gum down here." I could see him fighting back the urge to laugh. "Zebra, who do you know who chews peppermint gum?"
"No one," he said, staring. "That's a disgusting habit. Not to mention against regs."
"Remind me to file a complaint," Panther said dryly. "Who's our supervisor again?"