Carpathian Forty-Three

Carpathian Forty-Three - Part 12

Voclain is looking over Stephen's checklists, their brow furrowed. Rhianu is pouring over a computer console, stabbing at a keyboard furiously. Stephen paces, such as they can, the Velcro on their shoes picking at and scratching the deck in engineering. Light emerges tentatively from the recessed lighting, shy to impose on the darkness of Rhianu's lair. A strip encircles the 'upper' deck, Ring-ward, as well as the 'lower' deck, Spine-ward. The concepts of up and down are arbitrary on The Hump, where engineering lies.

"You checked this twice?" Voclain asks. Stephen fixes them with a withering stare, stopping their pacing momentarily. Voclain raises a hand defensively. Of course, Stephen checked twice. Voclain must ask, they're the captain.

Stephen found an issue with the ventral thrusters on The Hump, the large zero gravity cargo and mechanical node of Carpathian Forty-Three. The thrusters are near the helium lines that caused Fort's death. They're all on edge, all grieving, each in their own way. Stephen works. Rhianu cries. Voclain broods.

"We should have checked things after we found the helium issue," Rhianu says. "What else is broken that we don't know about?"

There are chirps and bleeps here. Monitors festoon the walls of Engineering, Rhianu's dominion. They show charts and rows of numbers, the heartbeat of the ship. Voclain stares at them, more through them really, lost in thought. The helium leak took them all by surprise. They should have run more diagnostics when they found it. They focused on saving Fort, rather than assessing their situation.

"We need to get the twins out there and assess what else is an issue," Stephen says. It's unusual for them to be anxious like this. Stephen could be a monk, with their usual even, almost sedate nature. Fort's death is taking a toll on them all.

"Assess what?" Thak asks, floating into the space from 'above', ring-ward. The Martian looks exhausted, deep bags underscore their eyes; their hair would be wild even in the centripetal gravity of The Ring. Here, on The Hump, without any affordance of gravity, their salt-and-pepper hair is a starburst of chaos.

"Stephen found a problem with the ventral thrusters," Rhianu says, still molesting the keyboard at their station.

"Thrusters?" Thak asks, floating down to the central conference table. They reach out with a foot and hook their toes under the grab-bar at the base.

"Yes. Thrusters. How can you be deaf with ears like that?" Rhianu lashes out. Voclain gives them a concerned look, but the message isn't received.

"Why didn't you check them earlier?" Thak asks.

"Why didn't Fort see the problem?" Rhianu asks.

"Quiet," Voclain says, their voice raised ever so slightly. Thak looks to the captain, worry painting their face. Rhianu looks... embarrassed?

It's a lot to deal with. Fort's gone. Their sentient quantum operating system 'died' when the liquid helium boiled off their qubits. They have a plan, use Miki Haru, the data analyst, to fill Fort's role. It's not a great plan. None of the classical computers on Carpathian Forty-Three can perform the course corrections they'll need during their breaking burn. Fort could do it with their quantum processors, but without Fort they're improvising.

"Can Haru compensate during the breaking burn without those thrusters?" Voclain asks. They're seeking opinions and conversation. The answer is obvious.

"No," Rhianu says.

"We don't even know if they want to do it," Stephen says. When Thak suggested they use one of the enhanced humans in suspended animation as their ship's computer Ward was the most vocal against. Stephen was just behind the Earther medic. Stephen had been enhanced, had been part of the Lunar Chorus of Enhanced Humans and Quantum Sentience. The great cacophony of minds linked into a loose hive mind on Luna. They'd given that up, eventually joining Carpathian Forty-Three as its First Officer. Of all of them, Stephen understood what waking Miki Haru meant.

Voclain's expression is pained and accusing at the same time, fixing Stephen with their gaze. The first officer doesn't wither like Thak. There's resolve there, a fierce sense of justice that won't be coerced.

"I'll do it," Miki's voice says from Fort's speaker. Thak recoils from the voice, startled. Miki sounds tired, frightened, anxious. Stephen softens from their defiance. "I'm working on a systems scan, it's... Fort left me the knowledge of how to do it, but it's new to me."

It's a lot to take in, the loss of their Chorus, being tied into all the ship's sensors, having Fort's memories injected into her cybernetic implants. Of all the cargo sleepers, Miki is the most capable, has the largest and most advanced enhancements. They're meant to be analyzing geological data on Titan, finding rich hydrocarbon deposits to extract. Instead, they're plugged into an old cargo ship, learning how to run things, and put them into a rendezvous orbit with Titan.

"Thank you," Voclain says. "Stephen's right, we need to get the Twins out there and get eyes on systems. If Fort didn't notice this, we're dealing with sensor errors." They're distant, analyzing the situation, thinking out loud.

"I'll get prepped," Rhianu says, deflated.

"No," Voclain says. They snap out of their analysis haze and fix Rhianu with a sad, sympathetic gaze. "We're all running on adrenaline and grief. We have weeks to work this out. We're all standing down for another day. That'll give Haru time to run checks."

"I'd prefer Miki," the voice from the speaker says quietly. Voclain nods to the speaker and the camera attached to it.

"Sorry, Miki," Voclain says. The captain considers the crew for a moment, considering them each in turn. They linger on Rhianu, fixing the engineer with a long gaze. "Would you ask Ward to come down with a sedative?"

"Sedative?" Stephen asks, more curious than concerned.

"Rhi," Voclain looks to the engineer, concern on their face.

"I don't need a sedative Roz," the engineer says.

"Take your medicine Rhi. Captain's orders." Rhianu has been the most emotional over Fort's death, but even before that, they have cancer. It's early. It's operable. They caught it in time. And yet, it's cancer. It's stress. It's mortality.

"I fix the ship Roz. It's my job. I need to fix the ship," Rhi's face contorts into almost pleading. "I need to fix this!" Thak shuffles at the central table, bouncing slowly, their toe flexing on the grab-bar.

"I know," Voclain says gently. They float over to the engineer, reach out for their forearm. Rhianu pulls away. Thak fidgets. Stephen picks at the carpet with their Velcro shoes.

"I have to fix it!"

"I know."

Voclain manages to grasp the engineer, pulls them into an embrace. They float there, unattached to the deck. Rhianu struggles a bit, half-heartedly, before settling into the hug.

"You will. We will. After we get some rest."