Hugo Gustavsson's Story

0600 Hours - Engineering Deck

"Burn ends in three...two...one!" Chief Engineering Officer Gustavsson read off the watch on his wrist, which was synchronised to every other clock on the ship. As he spoke, the fusion torch engine propelling the Demeter cut out, leaving the deck in sudden silence. You couldn't actually hear the engine firing into space, but the reaction within the core rumbled through the entire engineering sector. Right now, it was on an off-cycle, determined by the ship's computers. Contrary to popular belief, the thing didn't vent superheated plasma into space constantly. It fired in burns that lasted several hours, allowing momentum to save fuel. It was a highly efficient and logical way to keep the fuel supply usage at a minimum.

On the flip side, they worked their asses off during downtime. The engineers used scaffolds and compressed-air thruster packs to manuever around the engine bay, one of the few areas of the ship not affected by the artificial gravity fields. Two of the twelve magnetic field generators would be taken down for calibration and repairs. The "torch" could work with just eight, but this redundancy was necessary with what was essentially an open-ended fusion bomb. Sitting only a few hundred meters and a few bulkheads from the two reactors that powered the ship, some extra safety measures didn't hurt.

Hugo nimbly flipped from a scaffolding and drifted toward one of the disconnected generators. The deck was built in a perfect cube, but the magnetic insulation in the walls made it feel more like a large chute, longer than it was wide. Bright service lights hung on a variety of scaffolding, which helped the grey-suited technicians manuever the bay. While dark uniforms didn't entirely make sense in space, against the white walls and silver equipment of engineering, it helped pick out individuals.

By this time, Hugo's subordinates were removing the covers from a projector, exposing the relatively simple innards. A magnetic projector was essentially a powerful magnet surrounded by conductive coils, a motor attached to each end. A focal lens and reflective casings directed the fields into the end of the engine. Imperfections and protruding wires could scratch and damage the magnetic medium spinning within, requiring very expensive micro-repairs. This daily check of the magnetic projectors help cut down on work down the line, and allowed defective ones to be replaced before they caused issues. Numbers seven and eight were doing as well as normal, requiring just a few touches with sealant compound. The German watched over the scene with satisfaction, taking notes on his gauntlet computer.

"Mister Gustavsson! We need your attention at the cooling circuits." Mack, one of the specialists called through the radio.

"Don't call me that. I work for a living." Hugo grunted. He braced against the nearby bulkhead and kicked off, by this point being more than familiar with the engine deck. It was a new assignment, less than six months working with the vessel. What an unusual example it was, too. It was supposedly a 'normal military research vessel.' But there were more lockouts on diagnostics, locked access shafts and more high-level scanners than he'd seen on any ship before. There was definitely something special running under the hood.

When Gustavsson examined the cooling systems, worry creased his face. The diagnostics read that the ultra-dense coolant solution was partially contaminated, and would potentially only work at 87% efficiency. Mack was busily tapping away at the other diagnostics terminal, situated directly by the coolant window. The light blue fluid seemed fine from here, but even the smallest changes could fry delicate electronics. "Oberleutnant Greensburg." Hugo had a habit of slipping into his native language when rushed - something that immediately got the attention of any engineering staff.

"Yes sir?" The young officer said attentively. He was the one assigned to the hard-line communications, which were immune to the EM interference normal radios could get.

"Alert Riggs of a possible coolant contamination. We will need additional O-1-9 in the next resupply shuttle. For the time being, the deck is running at eighty-percent power." Gustavsson stared into the displays. So far, even the less-than-competent Riggs hadn't tried anything completely moronic, but these sorts of problems were exactly what he didn't pay enough attention to. The German shrugged. They could only do their best. "Mack, add coolant boosters in five minute intervals, and keep an eye on that temperature reading..."

8:10 AM - Engineer Jorge Wu - Lower decks of the Demeter


Jorge emerged from the lower decks, he wiped some grease on his rag that hung form his belt. He'd spent most of his morning tightening the various rods and bolts that loosened over time. Though loosening didn't compromise much, it made the engines much less efficient. He didn't wear his uniform on the lower decks because very few people came down there, and when they did they knew Jorge would be there tinkering away, or calibrating various machines. The man also held quite a bit of respect for his uniform and kept it folded in his foot locker. The last thing he wanted was to grease up his uniform. He took a seat on a small camping stool, and opened a bottle of water. He would need to send the navigation officer, Velia Flynn, another anonymous message about the most recent calibrations he'd made and if she'd need to keep any details in mind. He sent it anonymously because he was deeply shy, and she was a rather beautiful woman. It almost made him yearn for a life as a prestigious officer so he could get her attention instead of being some bulky grease monkey.

The truth was, Jorge had had his eye on her since he came on board and saw her on the bridge of the ship when they gathered there for their initial briefing. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off of hers, except, of course, when her eyes wandered towards his. He would subtly glance over to the captain. He had spent much of his time on the ship when he wasn't working too hardly, he was working almost always, it was just the matter of how hard, thinking about how he could approach her and perhaps get to know her. He normally messaged his superiors who would tell her anyways, but he found it more efficient to tell her himself under the guise of "Anonymous Sender". He opened up his message client on his tech-pad that he wore on his wrist. He then typed, <Tightened stern turning rods, ship can make tighter turns, try not to take her too fast on a tight turn though, she'll lean really bad>. The screen blinked as the message was sent. She'd receive it in no time at all.

He took another sip from his water, and put his goggles on. After resuming his work, he listened intently for that familiar beep of her thanks, and the occasional question, 'Who is this?". He always said, "Someone that's here to help." It made him think of an old comic book here back when he was a kid, The Green-man. It wasn't as eco-friendly as it sounds, he was just the green-man because of his olive green pants. His key phrase when asked who he was had always been, "Someone that's here to help." He hoped she didn't get the reference.

After a few moments, he sighed and exited. Perhaps he'd retire to his quarters for an hou- While he contemplated, a loud hissing emanated from down the corridor. He picked up his wrench, and walked down to it. Just a small valve malfunction. The TL-57 valve covers that were installed din't have quite as good of a hold as the newer TL-98 model. He'd put in a requisition to Hugo. Hugo and Jorge had met once or twice, and had argued over certain regulatory specifics. Jorge tended not to get into Hugo's hair, and Hugo, so far, had stayed out of Jorge's. One thing that Jorge remembered Hugo not specifically being fond of was Jorge calling him Hugo. He claimed the term was "Chief Engineering Officer Gustavsson" when his name was clearly Hugo. After a while, though, Hugo has become more friendly and no longer debates his title. As a matter of fact, several of Jorge's superiors have written him up for "Neglecting to conform to standard personnel title and ranking" by calling all of his officers by their first names. He was a deeply personal man, and felt no need to keep all of these men from exploding into space if they were all 'First officer' this, and 'Lieutenant Commander' that. Most of the higher ups on the Demeter didn't mind being addressed by the first names, it was only the ones with sticks in their asses.

"Code 14, switch on jump drive. This is an order."

"What?" Gustavsson glanced up from a paperback novel. "We're still maintaining the torch, sir." He realized the captain had switched off the comms. There would be no arguing today. "Gott verdamnt... Engineering, all hands to maintenance. We need to rush that last generator and get the slazer back online." The ship actually only had a single engine, but the slazer was a sort of reactor that amplified the effect of the fusion torch the Demeter carried. In effect, it was two engines for slightly more than the bulk and maintenance of one. The engineering crew didn't completely understand how slazer engines worked, due to the tight-lipped policy of the manufacture, but they had learned how to get them working pretty handily by this point.

Crewmen on scheduled sleep cycles grudgingly woke up, but quickly went to work and the last massive magnetic field generator was back up within ten minutes. Hugo personally ensured that the slazer was set to 85% power, but he was aware the Captain could easily activate his override if he so desired. He sent off a quick message:

Code: Select all

Slazers MUST be run at 85% due to cooling impurities. Higher risks reactor overheating and meltdown. Fusion explosion also probable. Use common sense.

8:55 AM - "Mir' - Demeter's Bridge

"That's unusual," A cheery voice observed from right behind the Captain. A red-clad hologram flickered into view. "I came to warn you about a coolant error, but it looks like someone already told you about it," Mir explained, pointing to a small message that popped up on the main screen. "So, a distress signal? We don't get many of those. Judging by your order, I'd say we're going after it. Should we alert the rest of the fleet and synchronize a flight path with them? They probably don't have many better things to do than to help us out."

Finally, some excitement! Mir lived for the moments when the ship had a mission, for, in a sense, she was the ship. When the ship had to go somewhere, she was there helping to lead the way. When the ship had to do something, she was given almost entirely free reign over the areas of her jurisdiction. A distress signal was a new and fascinating mission, and it was one she greatly desired to help with. If the captain wanted to go, then she would be the first to follow his lead, for that was both her duty and the pleasure as the heart of his vessel.

8:55 AM - Jorge Wu - Engineering

Jorge played solitaire on his wrist computer until his radio buzzed with an order. "Oh, alright I guess." He muttered, heading into the hydraulic chambers. He would just fiddle with some of the more intricate workings and attempt to get them to hit whatever coordinates they were going to. While he was tightening an XL-71 moisture dampener he pulled up his messaging. He'd send a message to Velia. He tapped it in, and sent it before getting back to work on the dampener.

"Hey, strange orders going around, what's going on up there?" -Anonymous

The wrist computer beeped, and it had gotten through right before the signal faded. "Huh." He muttered, taping against a cooling rod. After a few more moments and he'd checked everything he needed to check, he emerged into engineering. He approached Hugo, "Hugo, what's going on?" He asked, sliding his engineering jacket on. Hopefully the signal would improve and Velia could message him back. He glanced at it again, and then back to Hugo. It looked like the engineers had everything under control as of right now, unless Hugo had something he needed Jorge to do. Jorge didn't like being around all of the other engineers. It made him uncomfortable, but if they needed the extra hands, he wouldn't deny them the extra hands.

"What kind of fucking protocol is that?"

Hugo sighed. The AI had given the implication that the captain - the idiot, was somehow removed from the ship, but even he was easier to work with than an immobile protocol. He keyed the intercom. "Engineering deck. All hands are to evacuate sector. The assigned skeleton crew will put fail-safes into effect in the meantime. I repeat, all hands to evacuate deck, skeleton crew to fail-safes."

It was dead silent. There were men and women who had worked on this vessel a whole lot longer than Gustavsson, and they were all cut up at the thought of abandoning their responsibilities. It was painfully ironic that this happened shortly after they had worked their asses off avoiding an electrical overload of primary systems. The deck itself was partially resistant to outside interference like EM pulses, but the magnetic field generators had nearly exploded from the imbalance. A few of the crew had to be sent to the infirmary from drastic field distortions. But it all seemed meaningless now.

Slowly, the majority of the staff powered down non-essential stations and made their ways to the umbilical, to join the rest of the ship. It was only Gustavsson, Riggs and a handful of others who stayed behind to double-check the slaving procedures and activate the multitude of manual safeties.

Gustavsson ensured he was last out of the deck, thirty seconds before lock-out. As he shut down the lights and backup power, the area reminded him chillingly of a ship graveyard.

When Hugo gave the order to evacuate the engineering bay, Jorge almost stayed. Of course, he couldn't do any help to them dead so he check all of the small things before he left. "TG-8s, check, Fram-d Power drives, check." He looked at everything, and nodded with approval before losing his balance as the ship lurched a little. Luckily, most of the easily breakable parts had survived the electrical storm that they hit. The only damaged item was an Hk-66 servo-disk that had fallen from its dock near the ceiling of the shaft. It wouldn't effect the ship's main functionality, but an airlock might have been overloaded due to the disk not being active. Little did Jorge know, one of them had.

He picked up his hat and hurried out of engineering and up towards the Cafe as quickly as he could. He jogged along the long hallway to another set of stairs, when a bit of piping seemed to drop down and smash directly into the side of his head. His feet stumbled awkwardly and he fell sideways into a cleaning-closet. It wasn't a serious head injury, but it was enough to put him out cold. He tried to get up, and then slumped back down again. The world around him swam, and sounds of sirens, and shouts seemed to blend into a mush of noise.

His world went dark.