Lt JG Quentin Beck - Out of the Frying Pan, Into Another More Different Frying Pan
Quentin Beck
((Turbolift 1, Between Deck 6 and 7, USS Ronin))
O'Connor: Woah, that does not look good. ::slightly staggers against the wall but doesn’t fall back down.::
Quentin snorted.
Beck: No kidding. I know you aren't gonna be super useful physically right now, but what I need more than anything is another pair of eyes and hands to help me start pulling the panel apart, see if I can get us reconnected to power. Or at least get a comm line open.
He turned back to the panel in the wall, picking up a spanner from the Engineering kit and using the flat end to pry open the bottom left corner, tongue pressing against the corner of his mouth with concentration.
O'Connor: ::takes a deep breath::Right, Right. ::shakes his head a bit:: Sorry still a little fizzy. ::glances at panel:: Looks like you got the panel open. Have you tried anything else yet?
He raised his stump to wave off the apology, still focused on the panel, then squinted at it and shone the beacon into the small alcove. They must have upgraded that particular turbolift's innards because he wasn't familiar with the layout; it was significantly different from the one he'd fiddled with on his first day on the Ronin. The individual components weren't labeled, or at least not the way he'd expected; they were color-coded, which was great for anyone who wasn't color-blind. He sighed.
Beck: I'm open to suggestions.
O'Connor: Ok in the right bottom there should be a small battery back-up system. Little green rectangle thing. It doesn’t look lit up so just pull it straight out.
Quentin squinted at the bottom right, where Ian had suggested, and spotted the little green rectangle. Setting the spanner down, he leaned his stump along the wall underneath the panel and stuck his fingers in so he could try to pry it out, but his fingers were too thick.
Beck: Not gonna work. The edges are too close to the corners of the panel and the component above it, and my fingers are too fat, I can't get under the edges.
O’Connor: It’s okay. ::hands him plier like tool from kit.:: Use these but just try not to break it off.
Reaching out to take the pliers, Quentin nodded his thanks and found it much easier to pull out the battery this time around, so much so he let out a single, hearty laugh of victory.
Beck: That shows you, little battery backup. Can't get one over on Quentin Beck. ::glancing over his shoulder:: Doing okay there, Chief?
Ian slid back down to a sitting position against the wall as he had been before, looking a little pale again.
O’Connor: Yeah, I’m hanging in there. Keep working on the panel. ::nods to the engineering kit that he just realized he must had dropped.:: In the engineering kit there should be a replacement. These things should be universal, so it’s okay if it looks slightly different. Same shape but it’ll probably be black with a gold top.
Nodding again, Quentin pivoted on his knee to better face the kit, tucking the beacon more under his arm so it could shine down over the kit. Setting down the pliers and the dead battery, he started tracing his fingers over each of the components there before he found the one he was looking for, black with a gold top, just as Ian had said.
Pivoting again to the panel, he was able to slot the replacement piece in place without any trouble - he didn't need to get his slightly-too-fat fingers beneath the edges to push it in.
Beck: Let there be light.
Faint lighting kicked in bathing the turbolift compartment in red. Quentin's brows lifted as he looked up in either direction, very pleased with himself.
O’Connor: Nice job, Doc. We have some juice to work with now.
Feeling much more confident now, his tongue swept over his lower lip before he shut off the palm beacon - it wasn't necessary anymore, now that there was additional lighting surrounding the circuits, and he could actually make out tiny etchings on each component. They weren't flat-out labels, which he would have preferred, but they at least gave him an idea of what they were related to; the prefixes on the model numbers were still the same.
Beck: Okay, so we've got a heartbeat again. That's a good start. I can see there's a couple of circuits in here with flashing lights behind them - at least one is comms, I think the other's… maybe the movement mechanism? Not sure about all of 'em, though.
O’Connor: Let’s try for comms next then. Just a bit above the battery is a comm system relay circuit. We don’t have a replacement so let’s just try resetting it. There are about 4 or 5 circuits and I’m not sure which is which so just yank ‘em all out and put them back in one at a time...
His brow arched as he glanced back at O'Connor, a smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth.
Beck: Remind me not to let you scrub in for surgery.
Turning his attention back to the panel, Quentin licked the tips of his thumb and forefinger before rubbing them together, then did as suggested; he started with the topmost circuit that was flashing, which led to the next one flashing, which led to the next one flashing, and before long he had a collection of components jingling in his palm. They were numbered, so he wasn't so worried about keeping track of which one went where. He looked up again briefly, brow raised.
Beck: Hold onto your butt.
Then he started pressing the circuits back in order. The first thing he heard was a thunk as the air circulator kicked on again, recycling the air that was starting to grow stale, and then the panel came back to life again, too. They didn't start moving, though.
Beck: ::cackling:: It's alive! Alive!
His fingers hovered briefly with the final red square hovering just above the battery and he started to insert it.
O'Connor: Just don't pull the red one right above...::Sparks shot out of the panel:: ...the battery.
Quentin's hand jerked back suddenly and he made a hissing sound, the little square thudding lightly against the carpeted floor next to his leg. He shook his hand, grimacing and sticking his fingertips in his mouth to suck on them briefly.
Beck: Ouch. Sonuva– ::sighing:: At least we've got power and air again.
O’Connor: Yeah, I kinda figured it wouldn’t work but was worth a shot and at least we know which one comms is now. Keep that one out.
He shot a look at O'Connor that suggested the suggestion was unnecessary, but held his tongue. Instead, he picked up the pliers and spanner and dropped them both into the kit, then picked up the little circuit, looking at it closely.
Beck: Little jerk. What's next?
O’Connor: I think we might be able to use that relay to boost one of our comm badges.
That made sense. But they'd have to be able to connect the circuit to the relay and he wasn't looking forward to burning off his fingerprints in the attempt. He glanced at the panel again, lips pulling into a thoughtful purse. Unless…
Beck: That's a good idea…what do you think about connecting one of our badges directly to the thing? It'll take a little soldering wire and tweaking the badge's internal configuration, but I think it'd work. Fairly quickly, too.
O’Connor: Grab those pliers again and try and break the top of the casing off that circuit. I’ll try to get my communicator open. ::drops his comm badge while trying to take it off:: Damn.
He stuck the circuit between his teeth and reached down to pick up the pliers when Ian dropped his badge before reaching out… and Quentin could see the piece of railing puncturing his side shift with the movement. Not enough to open the wound so he would bleed, but it certainly must have hurt like hell, because Ian passed out almost immediately.
Quentin's shoulders and face dropped a little as he sighed, speaking around the circuit.
Beck: Typical.
Plucking the circuit from between his teeth, he slipped it into the newly empty slot where the replacement battery back-up had been stored, then used the pliers to pop open the casing. Dropping the pliers, he leaned over to pluck up Ian's badge, patting the unconscious man's shoulder before sitting back on his heels again.
Beck: Don't worry, we'll have you out of here in two shakes of a targ's tail.
Turning the badge over in his palm, he set it down against his knee before picking up the pliers again. Tongue pressing to a sharp canine, he squinted as he used his stump to hold the badge in place and pried off the badge's casing as well. Swapping the pliers for a soldering iron and gathering a line of wire, he tucked one end in his teeth and pressed the wire into place on the badge, then used the soldering iron to carefully seal it where it needed to be. Then he set the soldering iron aside and plucked the wire from his teeth, wriggling towards the panel in the wall on his knees.
Beck: Here goes nothin'.
Quentin held onto the insulation covering the wire and carefully inserted the small section of wire that wasn't insulated into the slot, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth at the same time… and the panel didn't blow up, which seemed like a good sign. Opening his eyes slowly, one at a time, he peeked at the panel and the holographic readout said comms were available again.
Letting out a sigh of relief, he shifted and sat down on his butt next to the wall, pressing his thumb against the delta on the badge and this time it made the very relieving sound of a comm line opening. He held it near his mouth, even though he didn't really need to.
Beck: =/\= Doctor Beck to Bridge. =/\=
Niac/Tucker/Carpenter/Sims: =/\= Response =/\=
He let out a heavy sigh, despite the fact the comm sounded remarkably distant and weak.
Beck: =/\= Ian and I are stuck between decks in the turbolift pod we took from the Bridge. We just got back power but I had to MacGuyver a way to reach out to you guys. Could we get a little help here? =/\=
Niac/Tucker/Carpenter/Sims: =/\= Response =/\=
Beck: =/\= . . . did you just say abandon ship??? What the hell are you doing up there? =/\=
Niac/Tucker/Carpenter/Sims: =/\= Response =/\=
Tags/TBC!
Lieutenant JG Quentin Beck
Acting Chief Medical Officer
USS Ronin NCC-34523
A238810SA0