Lieutenant Doz Finch - Three Heads Are Better Than One
Doz Finch
((Main Engineering, Deck 16))
A sense of camaraderie. That’s what she thrived on in most situations. It was her fuel and her reason for getting up in the morning. She didn’t have her own family like Vylaa, or a family business like Gnaxac, or her whole life ahead of her like Tahna. She didn’t have Murphy anymore. But she had people around her, and that had to count for something. That would keep her going. That was what would stop her from losing her mind like her mother had those many decades before.
It was there, you see, in her blood. It had to be there—she was convinced of it. She’d always been convinced of it. Inside her, waiting for the opportune moment to flip the switch. To turn her into a recluse…and agoraphobic…and a drone. Maybe not literally, but as good as. Because if her best friend's death wasn’t enough to do it, then this…by god.
Finch: You wouldn’t believe half the stories. But I’ve plenty of them!
Gnaxac: I’m sure you d-d-do. G-g-go on, p-p-pass the time, tell us another one!
zh’Tisav: Maybe you should tell one, Gnaxac?
Gnaxac chuckled, and Doz beamed at him, glad for his part in it—glad for Vylaa’s part in it too. Two colleagues of many who’d left a bit of an imprint on the old Human. Two colleagues who she felt a growing sense of friendship with. Two people who, despite how awful they must have felt, were also happy to stay distracted and tell stories.
Gnaxac: There was one time I woke up upside d-d-down in a loo…
zh’Tisav: Woah! Nevermind! No toilet stories, I spend enough time changing diapers...
Finch: Oi, I wanted to hear where that was going! Unless you’ve got a better one yourself.
This would do just fine for now. They had a common and mostly simple engineering goal, all of the equipment to achieve it with, and more than enough manpower. And on top of that, they were chuckling—albeit through thin lips and tense postures—but they were chuckling. A declaration that said, without actually saying it, not today Johnson. Maybe tomorrow, maybe in a week or even a month's time, but not today.
zh’Tisav: Mmmm, I don’t really have many stories… Andorians don’t tell many personal stories, it’s usually legends of the old heroes like Lor’Vela, Ghalev, or Krotus the Conquerer. I could tell you one of those but I don’t think stories of Andorian wars would go over too well right now.
Finch: I seriously enjoyed our time at the Lor’Vela museum. What a cracking exhibition, and a fantastic insight into Andorian culture that was. We’ll have to see about visiting Ferenginar next time. Soak in a bit of your culture instead, Mister Gnaxac.
Gnaxac: Response
Vylaa lifted a hand to rub the spot where her right antenna met her forehead, perhaps thinking about whether or not that was even a possibility. Sure enough, just as soon as Doz had said it, she felt her stomach churn. As if it had been a cardinal sin to even mention Ferenginar and its history, knowing that it was probably gone. Wiped clean. Made barren and mechanical. A technological prison.
Vylaa pulled up the Master Systems Display, revealing a virtual and rotating figure of the USS Gorkon and its many operational systems. So the old white-haired Human approached it, small hands gripped on the table's edge with newfound focus.
zh’Tisav: I think we’ll have to look into extending the range of the sensor components themselves. We can remove some of the limiters for a start.
Finch: Internally or externally? I don’t mind taking one of the workbee’s out. Can even take a team with me.
Gnaxac: Response
They could have sent drones out there of course, but nothing was ever the same as handling it herself. Hands gripped on the workbee’s controls, manoeuvring the thing through and around the ship's many sticky-outy-parts. Any excuse to take on a practical task, and, frankly, any excuse to drive something. And maybe Vylaa and Gnaxac would join her out there—it was a task that required absolute precision, the one thing that would stop any of them from stewing in their horrible new reality.
Finch: We could start by removing the limiters one by one, see how the sensors respond, and then reinforce them in whatever capacity we think necessary. Heat sinks, ventilators, a fresh lick of our best sealant around the couplings.
zh’Tisav/Gnaxac: Response
Finch: How many workbees are in operation at the moment? Is it still four?
She nodded with pursed lips, fingers drumming along the edge of the table. With her fingers, she made a gesture that prompted the virtual replica of the ship to zoom in to Main Engineering, revealing its digital innards for them all to see.
zh’Tisav/Gnaxac: Response
Finch: Mind you, we’d have to keep an eye on the flux capacitance. There’s no sign of obvious damage now, but we start removing limiters and you never know what might start spiking. It’s an easy thing to forget.
zh’Tisav/Gnaxac: Response
Lieutenant Doz Finch
Assistant Chief Engineer
USS Gorkon NCC-82293
C239809SH3