Mikali sh'Shar - Andorian Blues: The Barzan Freighter, Part II

[David Adams]

(( OOC: Rolled a d20 on the Discord to see how well sh'Shar did fixing the Barzan freighter.. ))

(( Drydock, Iana Station, 1700 hours, Day 2 of 365 ))

Long-range sensor replacement on a Barzan ship was no joke.

The Barzans were not the most technologically advanced species in the galaxy, and from a developmental perspective, they did not have manned space travel for a long period of time. Accordingly their systems were built with "just make it work" in mind, rather than with an eye toward long-term usability; all-in-all a giant nightmare to fix. Unlike the modular, simple, reliable Starfleet vessels, Barzan ships had every component intertwined together, stacked on top of each other, reliant upon each other. It made things more efficient in some ways, especially when dealing with simple and undeveloped technology, but it also made maintenance a chore because fixing one thing typically meant having to remove, replace, or otherwise fiddle with something else.

But Mikali, brimming with energy, took to the chore with gusto. She replicated a series of pullies and chord, rolled up her sleeves, set the pullies to the outer hull using magnets, and then undid the eight bolts holding in the thruster manifold. Said manifold was lowered carefully down to the deck. Slowly, groaning with the weight of it, she let the device down, settling it to the deck of Iana Station with a dull thud.

Removal of the thruster manifold left a perfectly Mikali-sized hole in the bottom of the ship, which allowed her to crawl up between the outer and inner hulls. Soon she was face-to-face with the long-range sensor array. It was a bulky hunk of metal, eighty kilos worth, and was scorched and heavily corroded, obviously the victim of an electrical short. The EPS conduits leading to the device were intact, thankfully, which would cut down on her workload, but already she could see that the whole array would need to go.

So much for her plan of replacing a small bit and hoping it would spark some life in the aging, simple machine. Nope. Whole rebuild.

No worries, she had planned for that too. She took note of the serial number: BAR-SEN-JR7668941-Z Mk IV.

Mikali squirmed out from the inside of the ship and power-walked over to the industrial replicators. Rather than use voice activation, she simply typed in the exact part she needed: BAR-SEN-JR7668941-Z Mk IV.

The industrial replicator began constructing, atom by atom, all eighty kilos of the required device. She went for a glass of ice water, and by the time she had returned, it was ready.

Without an anti-grav dolly, though, the only way she could get it from the industrial replicator to the ship was the old fashioned way. Hoofing it all the way across the dry dock like a zabathu.

So Mikali set her feet, squatted down, and lifted with her knees, bringing up the heavy device and hugging it to her chest. She spent a moment adjusting her posture and grip, making sure she didn't drop it, then waddled off toward the Barzan freighter.

She had to stop twice before she got there (how had she gotten so unfit?), her fingers aching and sore, but she finally carried the heavy, fragile piece of equipment to where it needed to go. She rested the replacement part down beside the original, hooking it up the impromptu pully system she had devised, then strained as she pulled, lifting it between the hulls, inserting it with a soft click.

An hour of cabling and securing the device in place, and she was ready. She stepped into the passenger compartment, walked through to the flight deck, powered the ship on, and tested its long-range sensors. The big moment...

(( Roll: 17 ))

The long-range sensors turned on with a low, pleasant hum. All of the surrounding space in the Tyrellian system lit up like the ship had shone a searchlight out from Iana Station. Space dust, echoes from the planetary bodies, the commentary from some kind of triathlon on Denak IX where apparently the Gorkon's teams were both winning and losing horribly, and the constant chatter of inter-system communications flowed across the Barzan freighter's screens, processed by its computers, and spat out as useful data.

She tuned into the triathlon, listening to the commentary out of sheer curiosity. The commentator eagerly talked through the process to fill the dead time as cars raced across the surface. Dropped from a shuttle in high orbit. Running and bouncing toward vehicles. Then a driving section.

It sounded terribly entertaining, but Mikali was content to just listen for a few minutes as a "long-range sensors test", then turned it off. Back to work.

She had fixed the sensors, but knew she had one more big job to go before she could call it a day.

The thruster manifold was boldily lifted back into place and reattached. Eight bolts to reattach the outer plate. A full Level 1 diagnostic on the new system, including the thruster manifold, and when the computer was sure it was working, then she was ready to finish up. The useless eighty-kilo lump of metal had to be carried back to the replicator, to be returned to energy and stored in the station's power distribution system.

Groaning softly, she hoisted up the heavy broken bit, rust flaking off onto her uniform, and staggered back toward the replicator.

By the time she arrived back at the station allocated to her, her arms were aching and her legs felt like jelly. Her uniform was caked in sweat, her hair plastered down against her head, blue skin glistening with the effort. An ugly orange rust-stain covered her chest.

With one final effort, she hoisted the wrecked long-range sensor module into the replicator, then recycled it. It disappeared in a shower of blue sparks, sent on its way, gone forever.

Task complete.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw One-Joke ambled up, smiling approvingly.

One-Joke: Nice work.

Mikali wiped her face with the back of her sleeve.

sh'Shar: I'm more unfit than I thought, but I finished a full hour ahead of the end of my shift, despite the sensors needing a full rebuild. Twelve hours work in five, boss. Got an hour left if you want me to do something else.

One-Joke smiled widely.

One-Joke: Actually, there was one thing, yes. I'm just listening to the triathlon wrapup with the others in the common room. Want to join us?

She was sweaty and gross and covered in various engineering fluids. While the snatches she'd heard of the race were intriguing, she had better things to do.

sh'Shar: I think I should go clean up and sleep.

His face fell slightly.

One-Joke: Sleep is totally legitimate, but we're all dirty in the common room, it's a badge of honour to be unclean in there. And you did just work a double shift. You have an extra hour to go. I think maybe some time off would be good. ::his tone adjusted, becoming more formal:: What's your decision on that?

sh'Shar considered.

sh'Shar: My decision... is that I will go watch the last of the triathlon with you, because me stinking up the place is more your problem than mine, and after all, I have tomorrow off.

One-Joke pondered the answer, then dropped his voice, stepping a little closer to her.

One-Joke: I meant what I said earlier. You can't overextend yourself. You can go and sleep, or you can relax with us, but... it's only been one day and I'm already seeing some things that worry me.

Her face fell, antenna drooping forward.

sh'Shar: But... but I thought I was doing well.

One-Joke: Your work is exemplary and you're dutiful, eager to put in the extra effort, and clearly willing to go above-and-beyond what is asked of you, unlike... ::his eyes flicked to the side:: ... some other participants, and all of that is good. It is. A-plus in that department.

Mild aggravation spiked in her. How had she done anything wrong?

sh'Shar: So what's the problem?

One-Joke: I have eyes, you know. You only drink water, you eat plain food, you work and you work and you don't want to relax and have fun. It's as if you want pain. Like you want to suffer and actively seek out misery, all to help others with no regard for yourself. ::softly:: I know a guilty conscience when I see one.

Mikali brushed back some of her hair, her cheeks flushing purple.

sh'Shar: I have done a lot of bad things in my life, O-J.

One-Joke: I'm aware of your history. But do you think fixing ships in a dry dock can undo any of that?

It was a rough, pointed question, one that she didn't have an immediate answer to.

One-Joke: You did well today. You worked hard, you put in the effort, you earned some time for yourself. So relax, or at least go through the motions of it, because to do so is habit-forming. You've been out a long time, and right now, the best thing you can do for yourself is to form healthy habits, which includes taking care of that brain of yours.

She hesitated.

sh'Shar: I... just feel guilty about having fun when Benna is suffering in school. It feels wrong. I'm the reason she's in that mess.

One-Joke smiled mostly with his eyes, inclining his head.

One-Joke: And you want to get her out of it, right?

Mikali looked out to the cavernous, open dry dock mouth, to the field of stars beyond. One of those was the light of the Andorian star. And there was Benna. Separated from her by the immense, unfathomably vast gulf of space.

sh'Shar: More than anything.

One-Joke's voice was quiet and non-judgemental.

One-Joke: Is torturing yourself going to help Benna, or not help Benna? Do you think it makes you a better parent in the eyes of the Andorian Department of Children's Affairs?

Well, now, the answer to that was simultaneously difficult and not difficult.

sh'Shar: ::softly:: Probably not help.

One-Joke: Okay. So. With all that in mind... what's the next step from here?

sh'Shar considered, then straightened her back.

sh'Shar: I'm going to catch the last of the triathlon with you, then I'm going to go home and sleep. I'm sore, sweaty, tired, and I need a rest before I can work again. I'll come in for light duties tomorrow, mostly just PADD work or helping you out around your office, and I'll spend the time after we're done, booking in with one of the local counsellors. And... I'll head off early and maybe do something fun. I have no idea what. But something.

One-Joke: If that's your decision, very good. ::he grinned happily:: Come on. The big viewscreen is this way.

She went with him, sweaty and aching and covered in Barzan hydraulic fluid, but she felt good about what she'd done. Slightly hollow, as though her head was floating a little behind her body, but overall satisfied. And it had been a long time since she actually felt good about the events of a day.

One thought did spark in her head though.

sh'Shar: Oh! I said I would check in with Tasha when I was done. One moment... ::she pulled out a PADD, and began to type a message::

Tasha,

Barzan freighter is good to go. Had to pull the entire long-range sensor unit and replace. It was too corroded. Would have checked in with a call but it's late and you might be asleep.

Thanks for the tip.

- Mikali

The very last of her chores completed, she followed One-Joke into the common room. Catscratch (now wearing civilian clothes and looking much more refreshed) and a small crowd of others had gathered to watch the broadcast. The main viewer there showed a super-high resolution image of one of the race leaders, struggling to untangle herself from her parachute. The commentators discussed the problem, debating on if they would risk cutting the strap.

That bought a little smile to her face. Bets were taken on if the strap would indeed be cut. To keep them all in suspense, the race-cam changed again, to one of the other teams who were struggling to land.

She watched, dirty and covered in grime, as the teams bounded across the yellow sand, finally reaching their vehicles. One of the cars zoomed off the wrong way, all to raucous laughter. The race-cam switched back to the winners, who--with the chute situation resolved and their vehicle boarded--were blitzing across the yellow sands with impressive speed, kilometres ahead of the others. The various working teams cheered on their groups, and Mikali did too, howling and clasping her hands over her antenna as one poor team fell further and further behind, despite the heroic efforts of their driver.

Mikali couldn't help but stifle a big yawn, though, the toll of the workday finally catching up against her. She leaned up against Catscratch, finding the Caitian warm and soft and more than happy to be a big fuzzy pillow. Her friend wrapped her big thick paws around her, cradling her protectively, and in that comfortable position, she slowly she drifted off.

Eventually, she would have to wake up and go back to their dorm, but for now, she enjoyed a well-earned rest, her face smushed into Catscratch's shoulder, eyes closed, warm and safe and happy.

It had been a good day.

--

Lieutenant (j.g.) (ret) Mikali sh'Shar

Civilian

ReachOut Project

simmed by

Ensign Serren Tan

Security/Tactical

USS Gorkon

O238704AT0