A brief moment of respite
The simulation of nighttime on board the ship was as realistic as I remembered it when back on earth.
I was on my usual rounds after midnight, with the 2IC of security, Nancy Woolmer, who had been a NY detective until a better offer came along.
Like me, she had little to keep her back home, her husband who had also been a detective, had been killed on the job, and that had been the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Not blessed, or as she put it, cursed, with children, her parents had passed on, and any family left were not enough to keep her home. This ship, she had said, would be her savior.
But she had the look of a person running away, and that, one day, would come back to bite her. In the meantime, if we ever needed a detective, she was it.
“They’ve really got this night thing going, haven’t they. You could almost imagine you’re in a leafy suburb out for a walk at night.”
“I doubt the streets would be as safe.”
The world we had left behind was in crisis, where there were deep divides between those in work and those who were not, and those with wealth and those without, and a bigger fight between countries over the space program. It had started out with good intentions, but people being people, it didn’t stay that way.
We had an international crew, but there was always the lingering doubt of what some people’s intentions were. Out in space where everyone depended on everyone else, a small problem could become a big one very quickly.
“No, perhaps not. But it’s good to hear the breeze rustling in the trees.”
Though the simulation lacked real trees, the projection on the passage walls of what either side of a street. With pavements, trees and houses, and for the night, the eerie glow of street lamps, was close enough.
The once around the perimeter passage on each deck took about two hours at a leisurely pace, considering there were ten decks.
I could have passed the job onto one of the watch officers, but it was about the only time I got to see the crew, those that were basically out of sight, keeping the ship running.
I had set the lofty goal of meeting every one of the over 2,000 crew members within the first year, but a few months in, that was looking unlikely.
There was a sudden vibration emanating from the deck, followed by the sort of movement I would have associated with the ship coming off speed, like the jerk in a car when taking the foot off the accelerator. The dampeners were designed to handle that and make increases and decreases in speed unnoticeable, but there was still an indication it had happened.
Ten seconds later my communicator vibrated. I didn’t like the ring tone built-in, but it was more likely because most calls were bad news.
“What happened,” I asked, knowing it would be the duty officer of the watch
“Engineering are reporting a glitch, sir.”
There’s a word I hadn’t heard for a long time. My father used to refer to anything that went wrong around the house as a glitch.
“Don’t know, but you’re within a stone’s throw, so I thought you might want to pay them a visit.”
He was right, I was on that deck, and not far from the central control room. The bridge must be tracking me, even though I’d asked them not to. Standing orders dictated all officers and important personnel whereabouts were known at all times, I’d been told.
To Nancy, “You might want to continue on without me, and I’ll try to catch up later.”
She smiled. “Tell them they should have bought the premium quality rubber bands.”
Previous conversations had highlighted a certain cynicism towards the fixtures and fittings, some of which were quite shoddy, which was disappointing but there was no doubt corners were cut in order to get the ship into service.
We all just hoped that cost-cutting didn’t extend to the main items, and if there were, it had been picked up in the trials.
As I stepped into the control room, a brightly lit room with banks of control panels and engineers sitting at them, there were a number of people huddled around one in particular, including the chief engineer.
The conversation was quite lively, and one voice stood out above the others, “… and had the builders rep actually listen to someone who knows what they’re talking about, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
It was the same voice I’d heard in the captain’s day room my first day aboard, pontificating, as the captain put it, over a list of problems he was having with the shipbuilders representative.
“We’re in this situation,” the Chief Engineer said, “because everything we have here is new, and some of it untried. If you’re going to push boundaries, then sometimes there’s a problem. Rather than complain, find a resolution.”
The group broke up, and the Chief saw me coming over. He met me halfway.
“Half this new breed they’ve sent me and more teaches rather than hands-on, always on about the code or some such. Good, maybe, for diagnostics, but not for problem-solving. I suspect it’s tainted coolant, seems the original batch wasn’t cleaned out after the first run, and it’s overwhelmed the filters. It’s down to the bowels I’m afraid, and we’ll be up and running before those nincompoops work out the real problem.”
“Good. Just let the bridge know when you’re done.”
One last look at the nincompoops, and I headed back out to resume rounds.
© Charles Heath 2021