Ten hours later, when Farley finally made it down to the
cargo bays, Larssen didn't feel much like a commander.
Every muscle in her body ached from manoeuvring the
braces and struts around and she had a burn on the back of her
hand where her concentration had slipped when she was
using the welder. Grime from the ore that had been the
Lady Grace's last cargo before supplies for Starbase 34
covered every inch of her coverall and every exposed
patch of skin, and her hair was perpetually in her eyes.
"Ma'am?" Farley asked from the doorway.
Larssen crawled up off the decking where she was lying
getting a bolt set, and had to pause for a moment on
elbows and knees. "Grab a welder." she said. "You set
this sort of thing up before?"
"No'm."
"It's pretty simple. Brace here, strut there, one of these
double bolts through the two and then a couple of size
fours in the edges. Do that four times, go back and deck
over them, bolt holes in the decking, set them with the
welder to seal. Got it?"
"Yes'm." Farley.
Larssen got to her knees. "Don't say that when it isn't
true, Farley. Come here and watch what I do until you
have it down."
"Yes'm," he said, "Sorry, ma'am."
She used his arm to lever herself to her feet. He looked
exhausted, the skin beneath his eyes smudged indigo with
fatigue. "Good work with the communications relay."
Larssen remembered to say.
"I was outside Ms Rand's schedule, ten percent over I'm
sorry, ma'am."
Larssen wished she could tell him that ten percent over
the schedule Rand had set him meant he might just have
set a fleet record. "It was a good job, anyway." she said.
"Now, this is a brace. Get the other end of it and I'll
show you where it goes."
They got the scaffolding and the decking up. Larssen lost
track of time after a while, lost sight of everything
except the metal of the struts and the glare of the welder
and the pace she set them both. At one point Farley
started sobbing with exhaustion, and apologising for it at
the same time. Cry all you want, Larssen told him. Cry
all you want, just don't stop working. And he didn't.
Rand didn't page her and Larssen had to assume that
meant there was nothing that needed her decision, her
approval, her intervention. She thought that perhaps she should be keeping a closer hand on what was going on elsewhere on this ship but she knew that if she stopped the rhythm of the work she'd never get it back.
Finally, they set the last bolts. Farley staggered and
sat down the second they were done. Larssen took out her
comm. and blinked at it for a moment until she could
remember the right sequence of buttons.
"Larssen here." she said. "Cargo bays are fitted as
required. What's the time?"
"Minus fifty five hours." Rand sounded strained.
"What's our status?"
A slight pause. "Not so great, ma'am. Engineering is more
than thirty percent outside requirements. Life-support is
fifteen percent behind. Shimona has finished with the hull
integrity survey and identified eleven places that need
reinforcement. She's started on that. Everybody but her,
you and Farley and the life-support team are in
engineering."
"I'll be in engineering. I'll send Farley to life-support."
"Yes'm." Rand said.
Larssen put her comm. away, fumbling before she could
find the pocket. Lifting Farley to his feet, she propelled him
towards the door. "Go up to main life-support. Take the
turbo life to deck 4 and it's the third door on your right.
Tell them it's my orders you sleep for thirty minutes.
Anyone else who needs it is to take thirty minutes after
they wake you. Don't all doze off at once."
"Yes'm" he mumbled. She pointed him in the right
direction and he stumbled off. Main engineering is..
Larssen thought, main engineering is ... I'm sure I
know this. Main engineering is... that way.
She'd seen the Enterprise engine room in what had
looked like chaos before now, crew scurrying like ants
under the lash of Scotty's voice. Now that was revealed
as a highly ordered and well-organised situation, in
comparison with the scene that greeted her in Lady
Grace's main engineering.
What Larssen always thought of as the fundamental guts
of he ship were laid out across the floor, Wrenth and
Drysden taking readings in tandem. Drysden was nearly
crying with frustration. "I can't isolate it!" Larssen
heard him saying. 'I don't know where the hell it is! I
can't isolate it!"
Another pair of legs in uniform pants protruded from
beneath the main console, while Klein was crawling the
length of the main power conduit, replacing sections
deemed too fragile to be patched. Lieutenant N'o was
crouched beside another console, next to the only pair
of legs in the room not in starfleet uniform. Larssen
guessed that meant it was Madison under that console.
Suddenly at a cry from the three crew replacing parts
of the matter-antimatter assembly, N'o leaped up and
went to help them.
Larssen went over to Madison's feet.
"Give me the double aught gauge, will you?" he asked,
and then his feet twitched as he realised N'o's departure
had left him without an assistant. "Shit." he said, and
started to haul himself out.
Larssen knelt down beside him and slapped the tool in
his hand.
"Thanks." he said, still head and shoulders under the
console. "Start a level one diagnostic running, will
you?"
She leaned over his legs and keyed it in. The
diagnostic ran for a few seconds, and then gave a
curdled beep and shut itself off.
"Shit. The fucking secondary board is totally fucking
fried. I thought it was only the relay units. Can you
see a set of board switches anywhere?"
They were a few feet away, and Larssen got them, passed
them under the console along with the triplex unit he'd
need to set the switches in place.
"And the - oh. Got it. Thanks."
"No problem." Larssen said, and Madison came out from
under to console in a hurry.
"You!" he said.
"We're done in cargo." Larssen told him. "What do you
need me to start on here?"
"I dunno. Can you do anything?"
"Small mechanicals. Tech certificate stuff."
"What's a tech certificate when it's not some kind of
fancy Starfleet diploma?" he asked, wiping grease and
sweat from his face with one hand. His voice was cold
now he knew who he was talking to, but Larssen could
live with cold.
"I can build an antigrav unit from parts and repair
anything that doesn't have a double relay computer
board, and some things that do." she said.
"Then lady, have I got a job for you." Madison said. "See
the regulation units over there? Not one of them works.
I need at least two on line if we're to get out of here
and all three if we're going to keep moving for more than
twenty minutes."
She couldn't argue. The regulators were essential. Of
course, as Madison was no doubt aware, repairing them in
situ was a nasty job that would involve lying flat on her
back while oil dripped into her eyes and her fingers
cramped from holding the fiddly little drivers the task
would require.
"Got it." she said, and went to find a tool kit.
She pulled herself out for a rest after the first one, to
stretch her cramped fingers and work the knots out of her
shoulders. Klein was done with the power conduit, and
nobody was working under the consoles. Madison was
glaring at the warp engine housing as if it had offered to
buy his sister for three camels. Larssen reached for her
comm.
"Rand." she said wearily. "It's Larssen. What's our
status?"
"Life-support is only five percent behind now." Rand said.
"Engineering - at twenty five percent below."
"What's the time?"
"Minus forty five hours."
"Pull two people off life-support - your discretion which -
and send them to engineering. How's Shimona doing on
the hull?"
"Nearly done, she says."
"Get her down here as soon as she's finished."
"Yes'm. Ma'am - those people from life-support, they'll
fall behind again."
"I know." Larssen said. Work it out, Janice. We might
be able to fix life-support once we're out there, but
without the engines we just have to sit in dock and watch
whatever's coming.
"Yes, ma'am." Rand said. "I'll send them down."
"Good." Larssen said. "Larssen out." She hauled herself
back under the regulators.
By the third unit her fingers were numb and clumsy, her
vision blurred. No matter how hard she concentrated, she
kept making mistakes, having to stop and fix something.
~Taking too long at this, Cory,~ she thought.
A tiny seal slipped from her fingers and rolled away.
"Rotting, stinking garbage on a silver plate." she
murmured in Romulan, and began to push herself out to go
look for it.
"Here." said a hoarse voice, and a greasy hand appeared
with the seal.
"Thanks." she said, and took it. She was setting it in
place and trying to match up the next part when she
realised there was someone under the units beside her.
"How long you gonna be with these?" Madison asked,
studying the repairs she'd finished.
"I don't know." Larssen said. "What time is it?"
"Miss Bigtits on the bridge says we're at minus thirty
three hours."
"Rotting, stinking garbage on a silver plate with a
herb garnish." The harsh alien phrases rolled off her
tongue and somehow made the next seal slip smoothly
into place.
"What?"
"Nothing. You know," Larssen said, "coming from me
this probably won't make any difference, but Janice Rand is a
fine officer and a decent human being."
"Who's Janice Rand?"
"Miss Bigtits on the bridge."
"Okay. She's a fine officer and decent human being with
big tits." Madison said.
Larssen snorted. She turned her head and saw Madison
looking back at her, lines of fatigue etched deep on his
face but a glint of humour in his eyes.
"Surely no more than a D-cup." Larssen said.
"Oh, no, I'd say an E. Maybe an F with good suspension.
I'm an engineer. We know about these things." He
grinned, an honest grin that was more at the bizarre nature of
the situation and the conversation than at his own joke,
and Larssen could suddenly see why Rand had thought he
was handsome.
The he remembered that he hated her and the shutters went
down behind his eyes.
"Let me know when you finish." he said. "I've got a lot of
other things for you to do."
The 'other things' included crawling through the access
crawlways to replace conduit linkages; helping Tarn and
Klein drag the replacement parts for the Duane line
modulators into place and set them (over a hundred
fiddly screws) and patching the four back-up dilithium
cases.
She was finishing up the last of these when Madison's feet
appeared beside her.
"What time is it?" she asked him.
"Minus twenty hours." he said. "Lady, I have to lie down
for an hour."
"All right." she said. "I'll call you in an hour."
"All right?" he said incredulously. "Just like that?"
Larssen finished the last patch and rolled over on to her
stomach. Now, she thought, the next thing is to get up.
That's going to involve legs and arms. Legs and arms, you
hear that? "Just like that." she said hoarsely. "Are
you just being lazy, Madison?" She got to her hands and
knees, and paused.
"I've been working like the devil for forty hours." he
said. "I can't see straight and I can hardy stand up.
And you ask me if I'm lazy?"
"I didn't think so. Take an hour." Larssen started to
lever herself to her feet using the casing and a support.
Madison took her arm and pulled her the rest of the way
up.
"You should take some time yourself." he said in a more
neutral tone.
"Suggestion noted." she said. "What time is it?"
"Minus twenty hours, I told you. You losing it, lady?"
"Have your crew had any breaks?"
"I sent each of the off for a bit in the last little
while."
"Good." Larssen said. She freed her arm from his grip and
took out her comm. "Rand, report."
"Ma'am." Rand said. "Engineering is on target. Life-
support reports they are twenty percent outside. That's
all."
"Message to Admiral Dewey. Say: Lieutenant Larssen
respectfully reports the Lady Grace will be ready to
take passengers, up to five hundred, at their convenience.
We request assistance in getting our passengers boarded
and settled down. We have no working transporters and
will have to board through the dry dock lock prior to moving
away from dry dock for the final engine repairs. We
request that any refugees or Starfleet crew with technical
expertise be given priority for this transport."
"Life support isn't ready - won't be ready - for those
people."
"Even if all it's doing is working at standard, Rand, it'll
take five hours before we have anything to worry about.
And with any luck, they'll send us help. Add an addendum
to that message: Lieutenant Larssen reports that facilities
aboard the Lady Grace are at a minimum and we will
require off-loading as soon as possible. End."
"Yes'm."
Larssen pushed her hair out of her face and looked around.
Madison had walked off while she was talking to Rand,
but the crew were still working. "Page Madison in one hour.
If he doesn't answer, page me."
"Yes'm."
"Larssen out." She pocketed the comm. and leaned against
the nearest piece of equipment for a moment. Was this the
right decision? Would they be able to get life-support
properly modified when they were under way? Was the
risk she was taking on behalf of those nameless, faceless
passengers a worse or better chance than staying behind
on the Starbase and facing whatever it was that was
coming at them?
~ Field too large. ~
~I wish the captain was here,~ she thought dully. ~He'd know
what to do.~