From tgladsto@sewanee.edu Fri Jun 19 13:02:39 1998
Date: Wed, 20 May 1998 21:19:59 -0600
From: tgladsto@sewanee.edu
To: Dante Expeditionary Force List Serve <dantexf@cyberhighway.net>
Subject: [DANTEXF] USS YORKTOWN: An Engineer's work...

DANTE Expeditionary Force Official E-mail



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FMD: 3.1240

       "You have exactly twenty-four hours to get the Yorktown as
operational as possible.  Commander, if you can pull off a miracle, now is
the time."
        "Understood, sir.  I'm on my way."
        Retal stood and swivelled in the same motion, a cacaphony of
thoughts rushing through his mind at once.  He didn't know much of the
situation, only that a Dalraidian starfleet was passing through the
minefield.  If the Captain wanted the Yorktown fully operational, that
meant that he was planning to enter the battle, which would mean they would
kill Dalraidians.  Good.  Captain Olivia Lee had been a friend, years ago
now, when he had begun his career.
       Almost without thinking, he reached out, dipping into the Lake and
feeling its power run over him and through him like a burst of fresh ice
water, coursing through his veins at the speed of throught.  Time and space
twisted around him as he walked, bending and shifting in response to his
mental tapestry, and light shimmered around him.  Taking a level stride
forward, he felt the twisting lurch of the gateway, and then emerged once
again in Main Engineering.  Letting the power receed, he continued in an
unbroken pace across the giant dome of Engineering, towards the assorted
department heads, standing staring down at one of the warp consoles.
Barely audible, he came up behind the small group of men and women from
races and species across the quadrant, and cleared his throat.  Quickly,
they all turned to face him.
        Grimly, he surveyed the array of experienced technicians who stood
before him, a slight smile on his face.  "Well, gentlemen, it's time to do
some miracle working.  There's a Dalraidian starfleet headed straight for
Alighieri, and we're on the first line of defence."  Permitting a second
for the news to sink in, he continued.  "We've got twenty-four hours to get
everything up and running.  I don't want to see a single pair of hands idle
for the next twnty-four hours.  I'll treat you all to a round in the Ariel
Lounge as soon as this is over, but for now we work overtime.  Got it?"
        "Yes, sir."  Their response was uniform, each voice speaking within
seconds of the others.
        "Good.  What's our status?"
        Lieutenant Alvinson reached behind him and grabbed a stray PADD
from the console, bringing up a menu.  "Warp drive is in the worst shape.
The field is unbalanced slightly from the port nacelle, and I've got two
teams working on that."  He paused, glancing nervously from the PADD to
Retal and back.
        "What else?"
        "We've only got twenty percent on shields.  The last volley from
the pirates, coupled with what we sustained from the explosion, nearly
fried the main generator.  We're running on auxiliary only now, and we're
pushing it to get fifty."
        Taking a deep breath, Retal pushed forward towards the console,
tapping a series of keys in quick succession to bring up the shield
schematics.  A complex series of circuit diagrams materialized on the
display panel beneath his fingers, some of the lines bright and the others
dim, displaying what parts were getting energy and which were not.  At the
moment, the auxiliary shield circuits were shimmering with a golden flame,
while the main generator had receeded to a dull silvery colour.  "You
stopped running energy through main shields?"
        "Aye, sir."
        "Start it up again.  One minute of full combat power."
        "But, sir-"
        "How am I supposed to figure out what's going on around here if I
can't see what was damaged in the first place?  One minute of full power
won't hurt anything beyond repair, least of all shields."
        "Yes, sir."  The big Norseman's hands moved rapidly across the side
console, and abruptly the gray contacts on the display shimmered with a
faint gold.  "Running at twenty-five percent power now."
        "Increase to one hundred percent by five-percent incriments over
the next ten seconds."
        A few more keys were pressed, and the golden glow began to get
stronger, swiftly becoming a bright light rather than a shimmer.  Then,
with surprising suddeness, the gold turned orange, and then red, in one
portion of the diagram.  "There!  Download all information to this
terminal, and hold that power input level."
        "Information download set.... complete."
        "Okay, let's see what we have here."  The main shields had maxed
out at fifty percent of normal, a good percentage, but not respectable by
any means, especially with a battle coming up in little more than
twentyfour hours.  "Hmm.  Looks like we're getting an overload short to the
central temporospatial distortion mechanism.  It's probably burnt out.  Get
new circuits in there on the double, replicate what you can, get the rest
from starbase Alighieri.  I need those shields online now.  Take teams
Alpha through Kappa, and anyone else as needed."
        "Aye, sir."  Alvinson turned on his heels, taking a quick breath
before walking towards the turbolifts, motioning to a group of repair techs
quietly conversing in one corner.  Mutely, they grabbed their equipment
cases and headed out into the emergency turbolift, listening attentively as
Alvinson explained the situation.  Taking a deep breath, Retal turned to
the others.
        "Tamera, you join the teams in the port nacelle.  Do whatever you
have to, but get the field balanced.  If it's not done in twenty hours,
I'll know why."
        "Understood."  She blinked, then headed for the jeffries tube in
the direction of the port warp nacelle.  Kalverts was the only officer
remaining.
        "What's wrong now?"
        "Phasers, sir.  Every time we try to push above thirty percent
charge through the central coupling, the entire array shorts on us.
Without the phasers..."
        "We can't fight, I know.  I can see the obvious, Chief."
        "Ahhh, yes sir,."
        Gently, Retal took the PADD from Kalverts's light grasp and glanced
at the complicated schematic scrawled on its display.  Mulling over the
scene revealed for a moment, he nodded, then touched one point on the
display.  "It looks like the main power coupling got jumbled a bit, and the
power is passing through the inducer field, rather through the arrays.  Get
on it."
        Mutely, Chief Kelverts walked towards the exit.  As soon as he was
out of sight, Retal sighed and swiveled slowly on his heels, placing his
hands upon the raised edges of the central display console.  With one hand,
he tapped in a simple command, and the complex circuit diagrams that
currently filled the screen faded, to be replaced with a slow, scrolling
list of the damaged systems.  As each one passed his field of vision, he
could feel his spirits sinking.  *Shields down to twenty percent.  Phasers
at thirty.  Minor imbalance in the warp flux.  Is there anything on this
ship that is working?*
        *Stellar Cartography is about it, boss.*
        Despite his current state of mind, Retal couldn't help but smile.
*Just great, Watcher.  What good does it do us that we can find where we
are in the stars if we're going to be stardust in less than a day?*
        *Nice attitude.*
        *Okay.  There's a very slim chance that we will survive the next
twenty-four hours.  How about that?*
        *Still a bit fatalistic, but, hey, who am I to talk?*
        *Where are you, anyway?*
        *Anitmatter injector chamber, trying to hold the field together.
You know, the Gordian Knot probably wasn't the best solution to try there.*
        *Hey, it got us out of the explosion, didn't it?*
        *Now, that's a better attitude.*
        *How are you doing?*
        *Not so hot.  It's taking just about all I can give to hold this
chaotic mess together, let alone start fixing it.*
        *Did it regress all the way?*
        *No, most of what we did before the rush is still intact, but the
rest is being most.. unhelpful.*
        *Fine.  I'll be up there in a second.*  Not waiting for Tankle's
answer, Retal dropped the psionic link between himself and the strange
alien's presence, then turned his attention to the matters at hand.
Mentally, he let his control go, feeling the hold on his physical form
dissolve without the consistant pressure of his will to keep it in
existance.  At first gradually, and then more and more swiftly, his skin
began to lighten, until it was quite obvious that it was glowing.  The
uniform and body melded together, leaving only a vaguely humanoid, shining
shape.  Then, at last, the outer skin itself gave way, and the energy burst
forth, contracting almost immediately into an amphorous quiver of light and
power.  Picking his destination, he began to float upwards, passing the
three stories between ground level and the antimatter injector without
regard for the minimal force of ship's gravity.  After a few seconds, he
reached the upper shell, the micromollecular bondings between the two
cracked sections of the metal now quite obvious to his changed senses.
Moving forward, he felt the slight pressure of the radiation shielding give
way, and arrived inside the injector.
        It was almost exactly as he had left it, Tankle's psionic
representation hovering in the midst of a cacaphony of power that looked as
if it had emerged from the dream of a crazed expressionist painter.  Half
of the energy field was shaped into an ornate web, a glimmering
electromagnetic cage, while the other half was a jumble of conflicting
strands of power, cancelling each other out and holding the entire field at
minimum dialation.  Retal nodded to himself.  With the opening permanently
stuck in minor dialation, it was no wonder they were having trouble in most
of the other systems.  With the energy prioritized under battle conditions,
the majority of the less important devices would be getting far below
optimum power, if any at all.  Swiftly, Retal submersed himself in the
Lake, feeling its refreshing energy wash over and through him like a vat
filled with chilled Uh'krall dumped on his head on a hot day, wiping
weariness away as if it had never existed.  Concentrating, he began to
work.
        Tendrils of energy passed calmly from one part of the intricate web
to the other, incredibly nible fingers moving with the dexterity of a
concert pianist.  Under their careful guidance, loose strands of
electromagnetic field changed position, relinking themselves to the orderly
half, reassuming their normal, working position.  For what seemed like
hours it continued, Retal's delicate, careful work occasionally suplimented
by Tankle's deeper, more subtle touch.  Where each of the tendrils touched,
the subquantum strands of energy giving under his calling, and occasionally
buckling under a direct assault.  These became fewer and fewer, however, as
the pattern of energy began to emerge from the chaotic soup of
electromagnetism, each additional strand falling readily into the place
prepared for it amongst the growing cage.  Not loosing his deft, agile
touch, Retal proceeded, strand by strand, barely noticing when his psionic
tendrils lighted upon the last cord, swiftly sliding it back into place.
        As he did so, he felt the injector surge under him, the field
rapidly dialating to account for the miniscule matter buildup in the
dilithium crystals.  A surge of pure antimatter passed directly through the
cage of energy, and then dwindled to nothing, the "pupil" escape route
dialating fully like an airlock door.  Swiftly, Retal reopened the psionic
link from himself to Tankle.  *I'm heading down to the port warp nacelle.
If you can do it without being noticed, get to my office and act as relay.
Any calls that come through to me..*
        *I kinda get the idea, boss.  See you in a bit.*  Tankle's psionic
imprint slowly faded, dissolving back into the chaotic aether of power that
made up the universe, as his consciousness receeded into his toadstool-like
body.  Calmly, Retal summoned the Lake into him once again, feeling his
consciousness merge with it, suffusing him.  With a quick twist, he
gathered space and time around him, melding two points on the ship
together.  At the same time, he let the mental limits fall into place once
again, feeling the light that was his spirit coverge, congealing once again
into a vague imitation of matter.  He passed through the gateway, light
shimmering around him as he translated across the invisible fabric of
existance, into the port warp nacelle.
        While the new location was still resolving itself around him, he
entered the final stage of the transformation, light receeding inside skin
and uniform, then fading all together, replaced by the form of a
not-so-young starfleet officer with lieutenant commander's pips on his
collar.  As his senses returned to normal, he blinked.  The normal,
distorting shimmer of the nacelle FTL field was not visible, and a horde of
engineers milled around the base of the giant, curved side of the nacelle,
working like a horde of ants.  The parts of what Retal realized with a
shock were subspace warp field generators were scattered across the floor
of what would normally be the FTL disintigration zone, some with the
subtle, yet also obvious signs of wear, others looking exactly like new.
Scanning the teams of engineers doing the work, he could see several new
faces, working along with Alpha and Kappa teams.  Starbase personell,
surely.  With the influx of new engineers, there was just a chance that
they could get the entire ship up and running in the alotted time.  About
three meters away, he could see Tamera, standing and directing the
replacement.  A few quick strides brought him up behind her without a
sound, and he spoke in a brisk, soft voice.  "What is your status, ensign?"
        She blinked, turning towards him with a start.  "The damage up here
was a bit worse than we thought, sir.  The entire field generation assembly
was polarized, so we've been trying to replace it all.  The influx of new
men makes it much easier, but still.." she shrugged prefunctorially, " it'd
take a full baryon sweep to totally restore warp power on this nacelle."
        "Remind me to thank commander Merlin."  He paused for a second,
then spoke.  "What's the maximum efficiency we can get without
repolarizing?"
        "About eighty five percent.  Ninety if we redline it."
        "That should be good enough.  Just make sure HELM knows to cheat
towards port.  If we have any time, get a programmer to modify the guidance
system to compensate."
        "Aye, sir."
        "Very good.  Where do you need help here?"
        "Sir?"
        "You heard me, ensign.  I'm not just around here for window dressing."
        "Ah... Yes sir."  Retal grinned slightly.  The more time he spent
on the Yorktown, the less some of the officers expected him to actually get
down and do the dirty work.  One of the more enjoyable parts to the CEO
position was shedding the techs of that idea.  "We need more help in
section A-125, sir."
        "Very good, ensign."  Letting his hands fall from behind his back
to his sides, Retal walked across the FTL danger line and towards section
A-125 at the far corner of the nacelle.  Grabbing a piece of stray new
equipment, he took a quick glance at the array of missing parts, and began
to slowly fit his piece in, taking quick glances at the other parts of the
assembly to assure him he was placing it together right.  He grinned.  It
had been a while since he had been forced to take an entire warp engine
apart and put it back together again.  Almost too long.
        Repairs proceeded more quickly than anticipated, CEO Merlin's men
helping the process along handily.  Retal lost track of time, moving from
one part of the assembly to another without pausing to think, occasionally
diverting from his course to grab a piece of circuitboard or engine
component from the ground, then place it into its proper place.  The
others, working in teams of five, moved as quickly, if with somewhat less
fluidity, and piece by piece, the engines were completed.  Each piece of
exposed circuitry shined in the glare of the overhead lights, the soft,
comforting glow bending around the silvery surfaces.  Almost as one, the
teams made the final touches, replacing the wall panels and snapping the
emitters back into place before making their way rapidly out of the danger
zone, across the red line, glancing hastily behind them.  Retal was the
last one out, and the last one to remain, reaching over to the wall and
pressing the carefully coded key sequence that would cause the FTL field to
start up once more.
        The air behind the red danger zone shimmered, seeming to ripple and
flex, pressing back against the limits of the nacelle and, without regard
to the laws of physics and logic, beyond them.  It was a startling sight to
witness, one of the many things that engineers could see and appriciate and
most others did not.  The rolling wave of space and time crested, stressing
outwards, through the barriers of space and into subspace.  With that,
final move, it receeded, the field snapping back to the forward limits of
the red line.  The only thing that was odd about it now was that while
before, the field had been a distorted window into the interior of the
nacelle, it was now a vast black pit, occasionally punctuated by flashes of
colour and light, an artificial window into the chaos of subspace.
        Turning his back on the sea of eternal darkness, Retal walked out
of the nacelle, heading for the turbolift to Main Engineering.

CEO's office, USS YORKTOWN

        Retal had to restist grinning as he stared down at his console.
Reports had flooded in from all decks, systems functioning and
nonfunctioning systems mostly repaired.  He had not thought it could be
done, but the Yorktown was in fairly good condition.  Good enough, he
thought, to give the Dalraidians quite a fight.  Glancing up from the
console, his eyes rested on Merlin.  The vulcan was standing at the far end
of his office, a wide grin splitting his face like some old Earth statue of
the Bhudda.  A blue-skinned Bhudda.
        Charactaristic to Vulcan form, Merlin's voice was almost empty of
emotion.  Almost.  The other CEO was obviously tired, with other signs of
it showing around his body, in bearing and manner, small things that it
would take a trained eye to notice.  "We fixed her in record time.  Should
be filed somewhere.  Maybe we'll get an award as the best refitting
Engineering group..."
        Retal nodded slightly, his eyes flicking from Merlin to the console
and back.  "Some minor fixes and she'll be almost as good as new.  If I
tell this to Captain Katz, he won't trust me and will want to inspect all
the systems."  This time, he did grin.  They had done the best they could
with the time they had, and with the other half of the day still left, the
York would be up to a respectable level of efficiency by the time of the
battle.  Nowhere close to what a week in drydock could accomplish, but such
luxuries were not to be easily had.
        The Vulcan laughed, yet another surprise.  "And I can imagine the
face of my commanding officers."  He paused, taking a quick drink from the
steaming cup of coffee that he held in one hand, then making a face,
staring down at the dark brown brew before his eyes rested once again on
Ne'telkmar.  "Retal, I'd welcome you or some of your officers, who can help
us with the defence systems developing.  We always need clever heads.  The
transfers are cleared by Commander Windstar, so you have to just say a word
and I'll fill the request."
        Retal paused for a long moment, his gaze resting levelly on the
other CEO.  "What are you proposing?  That I permanently leave the ship?
If that is your request, the answer is no, for the moment.  Some of my
officers may go, but I will remain.  If, on the other hand, you mean that I
would assist you when my duties do not call me to the ship, I can do what
you ask."
                        <<Kevin-Which way does it go?>>
        "Ahh.. Very good, then.  I'll see you again, I hope, Retal."
        "Farewell, Merlin."  Retal's response was quiet and calm.  "We
shall see each other soon."  As the Vulcan turned and made his way out of
Engineering, Retal sighed and slid to his feet again.  There were still
twelve hours until the deadline.

********************************************************************************
"Don't worry, I'll have it all figured out by the time we reach the Frontier."
BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP
"What's that?"
"The Frontier."
                                        --The Last Starfighter
****************************************************************************
****
All: Just a bit of posting/backposting.  I'm sorry I couldn't post sooner,
but my computer crashed and I lost what I did have written.  :P

Kevin: It should be pretty clear.  If Retal has to request a permanent
transfer, then he won't go.  If it's a temp job, he'll be able to.  He's
grown to like the old York quite a bit... 8-)

Yoni:  The ship's up to snuff...  Everything should be up and running at
eighty-five percent or more.  If you need more, Retal can put in extra
hours... Remember, He's still got twelve hours of twenty-four left...

TIMELINE! YAHOO!
All dates are in FMD format

3.1240          Retal goes to Engineering       [Tom]
3.1300          Retal begins repair of injector [Tom]
3.1350          Retal completes injector repair, goes to nacelle        [Tom]
3.1340          Nacelle engine repair        [Tom]
3.1700          Nacelle repair complete         [Tom]
3.1705          Subspace field activated        [Tom]
3.2305          Retal converses with Merlin     [Tom]




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