The Challenge (sequel to The Gap)
(Huff-huff-huff-huff-)
Reggie's own labored breathing was the only thing he could hear inside the vacuum suit as he sprinted down the airless corridor, bouncing off the walls as he struggled to keep traction in the microgravity. Despite this his internal time sense, accurate as always, counted down the seconds until the torpedo warhead would explode.
Seventeen.
Sixteen.
Fifteen.
Fourteen.
Thirteen.
Reggie braked by slamming into the wall by the door, very possibly cracking a few ribs. He quickly reached out and snatched up the beam cutter they had left by the entrance to the storage facility. Fortunately it was still warmed up after they had cut through the non-responsive door and left it there less than half an hour earlier. He steadied the barrel across his forearm and looked back down the corridor.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
There was no time to run back. Then a light shone at the end of the corridor, T'Rinta was propping up the warhead with one hand and illuminating the spot he needed to shoot with her light. A shot at thirty meters, with a cutter designed for half that range, in microgravity, with almost no time to brace himself. Never mind hitting the warhead; Reggie knew there was a decent chance he'd cut T'Rinta in half instead. Luckily if he did, he'd have only about-
Four.
Three.
Right, three seconds to regret it before exploding. Reggie took his shot.
THREE DAYS EARLIER
"I'm Commander Reginald Betholt, Deputy Director of the San Francisco Design Bureau" said Reggie, introducing himself.
"Captain T'Rinta, Chief of the Torpedo Systems Office" responded the Vulcan woman. Her hair was light-colored for a Vulcan, and pushed up and to one side as though it had been swept in the wind. She wore some sort of protective safety glasses tinted yellow, and was in clothing suitable for shop work rather than a standard uniform.
Reggie reached out offering to shake her hand, only to realize she was holding a piece of heavy rounded metal that looked like a casing of some sort. He awkwardly started to retract the gesture when she literally tossed the casing to one side and grabbed his hand, pumping it vigorously. To Reggie's further surprise, the casing did not hit the ground. Instead a claw reached out from some sort of robot and snagged the casing out of the air, then turning and placing the casing neatly on a shelf with other tagged equipment.
"What is that?!" asked Reggie.
"That is a modified explosives handling robot, EZ-3KL," replied T'Rinta. She paused, still shaking Reggie's hand, then clarified. "Modified to be my personal assistant."
Releasing his hand at last, T'Rinta walked around a cluttered workbench, placing it in between them. She studied him with her head cocked to one side. "Admiral Kahurangi herself requested I provide you with assistance, Commander. I know why the Admiral is familiar with my capabilities. I am on the Explorer Panel of Captains, so logically she must have reviewed my file and been familiar with my work in torpedo fabrication."
Reggie decided to jump right in. "The Admiral briefed you on why I'm coming, right? You've looked at my model, seen the gap? Only it wasn't quite as much of a gap once I refined it a little further and included communications to Operations bureaus. Inquiries from the Design Bureau have been crossing over to Operations, to you, and they're getting answered. If I'm right, and I think I am, you're the closest thing that Starfleet has to a dedicated ship's weapons designer at the moment."
T'Rinta raised an eyebrow. "I have been able to make some small adjustments to our torpedo fabrication process to reduce error, but it is not on on the level of a new model. Though it does not matter; the distinction is irrelevant. Do you know why we are here?"
Reggie was taken back. "The Admiral asked us to meet? Or did you mean in a more general sense?"
"I speak to the purpose of Admiral Kahurangi's request. By sending you here she is requesting that we find some way to solve her problem. Her problem in this case being that she is convinced there is a need for a ship's weapons design team, but she feels politically unable to request one from the Council. Now given that, what solution would you suggest?"
Captain T'Rinta didn't move or make the slightest gesture, but the EX-3KL robot began to make an annoying ticking noise universally understood to indicate the rapid passage of time.
"Uh, wait, I don't know, yes I do," fumbled Reggie. "We should, us, we could go ahead and form a team anyway. But, you know, not with official permission. If we achieved something, you know, some valuable progress then the Admiral could go to the Federation Council and say, "Look I've got this existing team and they can do the work and you just need to let them keep doing the work."
For the first time, Reggie got the impression he had faintly impressed T'Rinta. The robot's ticking stopped and she took off her safety glasses. "Indeed, I had much the same thought myself."
"No, no," said Reggie, unable to control his usual habit of swinging his hands around wildly. "There's a million reasons that won't work. First, we both have other duties. Second, you may be a torpedo expert, but I'm just a Deputy Director. I don't know anything about phasers and torpedoes beyond a few Academy engineering courses. Third, how are we going to produce something significant enough to wow the Council when we have absolutely no resources to work with?"
The EX-3KL rolled over and handed T'Rinta a datapad, which she displayed. Reggie still had no idea how she was controlling the thing, or if it was simply programmed with such an extensive knowledge of the Captain that it was able to anticipate her commands. He looked at the pad, which contained a set of orders.
"That is only three reasons, not even within two orders of magnitude of a million. As to your first point I have orders from Admiral Kahurangi allowing me to place myself and certain other personnel, including yourself, on temporary leave from their duties for other duties as defined by myself." The orders did say exactly that.
"As to the second, you are an administrative expert. Possibly an administrative genius. What would happen if we were to take your model and reverse it, use it to seek out reservoirs of knowledge within existing Design Bureau personnel that have previously requested information on weapons systems? Could that not function as an ad hoc team?"
Reggie found himself nodding along. "So what do we do about the third problem?"
"I do not know." The EK-3KL shrugged for her.
Seeing him about explode in frustration, T'Rinta walked around the workbench and sat on it next to where he was standing, placing her face about a foot away from him. "Reginald."
"Reggie, please, only my parents call be Reginald."
"Reggie. I wish to accomplish this task that the Admiral has set for me. I wish it because I believe that it will ultimately benefit Starfleet, but also because I believe success would improve the odds of achieving my desire to captain a Five Year Mission. My work with torpedoes was sufficient to achieve a place on the Explorer's Panel, but not every Captain there is selected for a Five Year Mission. Far from it. Admiral Kahurangi makes that decision, and she is a difficult woman to impress. That is why I wish to succeed." She waited with Vulcan patience.
Reggie ran a hand through his hair. "This whole thing was my idea. I figured out that not having a weapons team was hurting us, and I pushed Vice Admiral Chee-velt about it. Okay, yes, I want to succeed. This is my chance to make a difference in how Starfleet works. Yeah. And... I have an idea."
T'Rinta raised an eyebrow.
"It's not like nothing ever gets done with weapons. Our starship design teams have to buckle down and update the designs a little every once in a while, just so our systems aren't completely obsolete. I found some notes from when the Centaur was under design. The 40 Eridani A team had a new Type-VI Torpedo Warhead half completed, but they couldn't quite make it work. Computing technology wasn't there at the time, but we've had some big duotronic advances in the past ten years.
"When the Centaur build started, they packed all the half done work away. The prototypes are still in some little asteroid storage facility near Vulcan. If we could make a raid on that place and grab all the materials they have stored, it ought to be enough to support you finishing the work here in your shop. Finish it for the next generation of Escorts, whenever that is." He shrugged.
EK-3KL rushed around the room with a bag, starting to pack various tools.
BACK TO THE ASTEROID JUST BEFORE REGGIE STARTED RUNNING
"Wait, no, someone typed in the storage code wrong. See, it's listed right here in physical notation on the packaging. This isn't one of ours; I think it's a Klingon warhead. Here, let me scan it," Reggie had just turned a structural resonance scanner when T'Rinta suddenly grabbed his wrist and turned it off again.
"I apologize for my haste Commander, but as I recall Klingon torpedoes utilize a structural resonance field as an activation device, and your scanner might-" she was interrupted as the torpedo began vibrating.
"49 seconds to expose a panel there-" T'Rinta tapped the underside of the torpedo, "And burn through it. Commander, the cutter."
That was when Reggie realized he had just dumped the cutter by the door instead of stowing it properly back in his equipment pack. He began to run.
AFTER REGGIE STOPPED RUNNING
Reggie was being shaken. "Commander. Reggie!"
T'Rinta was leaning over him, her voice coming through the radio. She also had her helmet physically touching his to transmit the sound for good measure. He pushed her away.
"What happened?"
"I believe you fainted," said T'Rinta.
"The torpedo didn't explode. Was it a dud or-"
She shook her head. "It appears you are an excellent shot under stress, Commander. I appreciate that. However in the future, do not scan anything explosive without first checking with me."
"I won't, definitely."
"Good. Let us return to work. There is much to be done if we are to build our unofficial team, and time is passing."
"Until Admiral Kahurangi reports back to the Federation Council?"
"Until they launch the next Exploration Corps Excelsior."
