Just a piece to cap off the last thing I did, and cover the start of Bazeck's time working for Commodore Leslie in the Warp Core Fabrication Division of Shipyard Industrial Command.
OLD VISION, NEW EYES, Pt. 2
Central Office, Shipyard Support Command
San Francisco
January 23, 2312
1138 Hours Local Time
"Dizzy." Commodore Leslie nodded to his secretary. The Apiata enlisted spacer looked up from a bewildering array of two, three, and he suspected
four dimensional displays. It wasn't every day that you found a secretarial candidate who could outperform modern expert systems at keeping track of everything. But Dizzinramira, formerly of a hive-colony harder to pronounce than her name was,
could. He respected that.
"Yes, sir?"
"I'm going to be meeting with Captain Bazeck for a few more minutes in my office. Then bounce me the next wave of files I need to look at, but don't overload me. I'll hit lunch, oh... call it 1300 or so."
"Yes, sir." Dizzy made on odd, somehow understated gesture he'd learned to read as agreement. Or deference. Or something. Given Warp Core Fabrication's obligations to keep track of manufacturing and design work being done on or around a dozen worlds, the Apiata worker's meek, retiring hypercompetence was a handy thing. But he worried about the girl.
He supposed he could understand how she was so rattled, even now. It must be a hell of a thing, getting kicked off your planet with half the people you knew thinking you ought to be dead. And it was probably even worse than he realized, since as close as Eddie could figure, the Apiata saw it as a punishment for the crime of not loving your mother enough to suit them. Dizzy deserved better than that. Maybe Sue could think of something to do for her.
Eddie tossed his head, clearing his thoughts. A problem for another time; right now he had a Tellarite to boot up. The office could use someone top-notch handling core frameworks right now.
If the fellow could make the shift to working planetside.
Gesturing with a sweep of his hand, he led Captain Bazeck into his office. Carefully, he sat down, muscles in his lower back protesting, then relaxing, as they unknotted themselves. Bazeck hopped up and bck into a chair and grunted.
"So, what happened to the last poor soul who tried to do this job for you, sir?"
"Eh, Obess is good, but he's losing his edge. Decided to bow out and go work for Yoyodyne as a consultant."
"So you wanted somebody sharp?" Bazeck's eye glinted.
"Yeah. Then they told me
you were coming. We'll just have to make the best of what we've got, I guess."
The Tellarite snorted a laugh. "So what do you want me to fix first?"
"It all comes back to the Kadeshi fleet. You've been catching up on the news, I imagine, and- you saw them in orbit. Word is we're sending
Stargazer out with them once she finishes commissioning trials and special loading."
"Mm. That's going to be a long trip. Really something, don't you think?"
Eddie Leslie, a man who liked to rib the new kids in the Explorer Corps more than most, tossed his head in acknowledgment. "Jealous?"
"After the Big E? Whatever you're hopped up on, don't let me have any."
Eddie laughed. "Isn't that the way of it? Well anyhow, it looks like they're off on a long damn cruise. Your division's first assignment is to dig up every plan we've got for repairing, mending, refurbishing, and jury-rigging a warp core. With, to make a long list short, space tape, baling wire, and whatever the Kadeshi can run up in those super-fabricators of theirs."
"...What, the Kadeshi can't make space tape!?"
"Hm. Well hell, maybe they can't. I'd better send a memo about that."
Nobody should have to go off on a twenty-year journey into the deep dark without a healthy supply of space tape.
Nobody, not even a bunch of Klingon raiders, let alone those poor bastards on the
Pride of Kadesh. Space tape was
important, Eddie thought with a conviction that blazed in his heart.
"So, keeping the big girls' cores running when they really, really shouldn't? Sounds like home."
"Oh, that's not all you'll doing for the puir bairns."
Bazeck frowned. "Sure you're speaking Standard, commodore?"
"Not one bit- but that was before your time. Anyway, that's the job you're coming into the middle of, but it's not what you're
here for. The Fairy Godmother Department finally listened to me. We've got the next generation of heavy starting design work any year now, and it's past time to refit the
Excelsior warp cores to a uniform standard. Which means we need a Block V installation for them, which means we need one that buzzes without being a damnable impossibility to manage."
"Which is what you
really wanted me for." Bazeck's smile was more of a smirk.
"Why else? History repeats itself, kiddo. For your sins, someone decided you could take that tangle of overtuned interlocking kludges you've made of the
Enterprise and put it into practice. See, you can fiddle around all you like. Our job is to make sure we can
build the things. We're trying to get as much part commonality between the newbie ships and the
Excelsior re-cores as we can, too."
"Right. Hope you're not expect me to pass on
all my tricks, though. That differential valve-field... wait." Horror dawned on the Tellarite's face. "You expect me to turn that into something just anybody can run!?"
"Oh, I do. I do." The commodore grinned evilly.
"What? With the garbage they're passing off for main power lines these days?"
"You and the kids over at Electro-Plasma are going to have to work it out."
The Tellarite scowled. "Those paper-pushers!"
Eddie stopped. His eyes narrowed. "Okay, I'm going to stop slanging. Here's the honest goods, between you, me, and the bulkhead." He nodded at the closed door. Dizzy might be able to hear him; he wasn't sure if it was an Apiata thing or if she just had good hearing in particular. But the quiet worker-bee, bless her, would be discreet.
The Tellarite folded his arms. "What've you got in mind, sir?"
"Something you need to know this about our people here. A lot of whom are yours. Your many, diverse, talented, people,
captain."
"Mm?" Bazeck frowned. "What about them?"
"You're a damn good engineer. I've worked with damn good engineers before. The best. You know where
I come from, and I know what I'm talking about when I say this. Your people
are a good team. Several of them, even. They
can keep up with you. I've seen all this before, you see. Only difference, I reckon, is that the last miracle worker I worked with was a friendlier drunk than you. But say what you will about the man, he knew how to get the best out of a team. I'm betting you do, too. And you know as well as I do, it
doesn't start with spitting on everyone who wasn't in the Corps."
The stubby engineer's jaw was set with a reply, but then that ticking brain kicked in. He thought about it for a minute, drew in a breath, let it out through twisted lips.
"Don't worry, sir. I'll remember."
"Good. We may be off the
Enterprise here, but every grand old lady in the fleet is waiting for us to give her a heart."
