Emerald Flight: “Past Imperfect” – Chapter 1 (continued)

Context: I wasn’t happy with how this was originally written. Hawkes is very much an internally-focused character, so I’m having trouble not so much wrapping my head around him as I am trying to make him interesting to the reader.

---

Hawkes watched as Devereux silently stared at the main bridge displays. As Tactical Officer, his responsibilities on this mission had originally encompassed ensuring that the additional security arrangements requested by Colonel Antonio were in place. There had been little expectation that the ship’s weapons or defensive system would be needed during their brief test flight. Once that was done, there had been little for him to do but continue to monitor what had quickly become routine reports between the security posts. Not that he particularly minded. Routine was good, he had along ago concluded. It tended to prevent the unexpected. In space, unforeseen events usually resulted in disaster, often for both the vessel and its crew.

Fortunately, what had happened was not entirely unexpected. A failure of the prototype drive system had been discussed as one of the most likely outcomes of the test. However, based on success of the simulations in both the lab and smaller test vessels, it had been considered to have a low probability. Given that, Hawkes suspected was that no one had anticipated that it might fail in quite so dramatic a fashion.

Based on the status reports he had received so far, it appeared that they were fortunate. Other for the two casualties already reported by the ship’s physician, there appeared to be no other significant injuries among the crew. So far, reports from all other sections except for the main Engineering deck seemed to indicate no significant damage to the ship—although it was still unclear what had caused the injuries to the two affected crew members. Hawkes held little doubt that Hope’s report would be prompt and thorough.

“Captain,” Hawkes called out, his voice rising just slightly above its usual even timbre. “All reports so far indicate no significant damage to the ship, or its systems, outside of Engineering.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Devereux acknowledged, almost absently it seemed to Hawkes. Her gaze remained intent on the view displayed on the main screens. After waiting for a moment to see whether she would respond further, he turned his attention back to the updated status data that flashed onto the displays at his station. He officially logged his report and began studying the new reports.

Emerald Flight: “Past Imperfect” – Chapter 1 (continued)

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” he offered with a tentative smile.

Elizabeth’s smile was genuine. “It’s okay, Ensign,” she told him, trying to keep her tone light and encouraging. “I’m sure you’ll remember next time.”

She knew from experience that it would be a while before he forgot again.

“Here,” she said, pulling a tool from her own case. “I’ll give you a hand.”

#

Hawkes watched as Devereux stared at the main bridge displays. Until a few moments ago, he had felt that his participation was generally unnecessary to the successful completion of their mission. Once the additional security arrangements requested by Colonel Antonio were in place, there was little for him to do but continue to monitor what had quickly become routine reports between the security posts. There was only so much one Tactical Officer could do on a mission where the need for weapons and combat experience was not expected.

Routine was good, he had along ago decided. It provided stability and tended to prevent surprises. In space, an unexpected event could result in disaster for a ship and its crew. His experiences of such crises provided him with ample motivation to do everything in his realm of influence to avoid them. Such drove him now as he collected the status reports coming in from all sections of the ship. Other than for the information coming from the main Engineering deck—and their frustrating, if usual, lack of detail—the remainder of the ship and crew seemed to experience little more than a rough transition from slipstream. Such occurrences, although fairly uncommon, only rarely resulted in catastrophic damage to the vessel. The most common consequence was that the ship would need to be towed to the nearest space station or inhabited planet, often to the crew’s chagrin. The resulting embarrassment was typically good-natured and short-lived, for the alternatives were far less welcome.

Emerald Flight: “Past Imperfect” – Chapter 1 (continued)

“Okay, Chief,” Elizabeth heard Captain Devereux say over the intercom. “Let me know as soon as you find out something.”

“Of course, Cap’n,” Rusty replied, both rolling his eyes and yet looking amused at the same time. He paused for what seemed like the briefest acceptable period of time before closing the connection. Turning his head, he caught Elizabeth watching him and gave her a quick wink.

“Don’t be just standing around, Lizzie,” he told her with tense, but genuine grin. She could tell that his thoughts had already returned to the apparent ruin of the slipstream drive. He jerked his thumb toward one of the upper platforms. “Give Yoshi and Beacon a hand checking the logs and junction regulators.”

Elizabeth glanced upward, locating the two junior engineers amid the swarm of crew members hurrying about on that level. She nodded back toward Rusty.

“I’m on it, Chief.”

She did not wait for a response, knowing that he had already turned his attention back to puzzle of the failed slipstream drive. Grabbing an equipment case from a nearby rack, she pushed her way toward the narrow ramp that would take her to the upper sections of the deck.

The two young engineers seemed visibly relieved by her arrival. Yoshi, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail similar to Elizabeth’s, stared frantically at the information being presented on a nearby status display. Her eyes darted almost wildly as she tried to find meaning in the scrolling data as it flashed past. Beacon knelt about a half meter away, trying to pry an access panel away from the bulkhead—with little success.

Elizabeth felt her own tension rise. Part of her wanted to scold them both; another part wanted to just push them each aside so she could fix the situations herself. She forced herself to take a deep breath. Neither solution was the correct one—at least not right now. The ship was in no immediate danger of blowing itself apart and, while Rusty needed the results of their analysis quickly, it was not so urgent that she needed to be quite so dramatic.

She reached over and paused the engineering systems log playback.

“Start at the moment of the breakdown,” she instructed Yoshi calmly. “Then work backward in fifteen second intervals.” She pointed at the display. “Focus on these readings for now unless you don’t see any significant changes.” Her finger moved downward to a different set of data. “Then start checking these.”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” the engineer replied. She managed a weak, grateful smile and then began working her way back through the data.

Nearly at her feet, Beacon’s sandy and tousled-looking hair bobbed as he struggled with the panel. Elizabeth caught a momentary flash of his gritted teeth as he strained to get the bulkhead to release its hold on the small access hatch. She fought back a small smile. A plebe mistake, she knew, for she had made it herself more than once—and had been known to once or twice since then if she was particularly tired or distracted.

She bent down and removed an instrument from Beacon’s open case on the deck. He must have caught her movement from the corner of his eye, for he stopped suddenly and stared at her with nearly simultaneous expressions of startlement and irritation. When he recognized her, he stopped and swallowed noticeably. Fighting to keep her expression neutral, Elizabeth offered him the tool.

He stared at it uncomprehendingly for a moment and then she watched as a dull flush began to fill his cheeks. His jaw muscles worked like he wanted to say something—or trying to keep from revisiting his breakfast—but he said nothing and accepted the tool. Swallowing again, he turned and began working on the panel’s fasteners. Within a few moments, the panel came away easily, and he leaned it against the bulkhead.

He turned to reach for another piece of equipment in his case as the panel began to slide down the bulkhead. Dropping the tool he held, he grabbed at the falling panel. His fingers grazed the edge, but not enough for him to get a grip or prevent its descent. He winced as it clattered to the deck.

There a sudden hush in their immediate area. Elizabeth could tell without looking that several crew members were staring in their direction. Beacon’s gaze was fixed on the betraying sheet of plasmetal. For a moment, Elizabeth was concerned that he might really throw up this time, but to her relief (and probably his as well, she realized), he managed to maintain the appearance of control until the noise level around them returned to normal.

His eyes turned toward Elizabeth. There was something almost pleading in them that collapsed her remaining resolve and she could not help but smile at him. She hoped it was the right kind. Captain Devereux or the Chief would know the right thing to say at this moment, and she wished she knew what it was. Nothing that came to her mind sounded other than it could also be taken as condescending or ridicule.

She must have managed to do the right thing, though, she noted, because Beacon started chuckling softly.

Emerald Flight: “Past Imperfect” – Chapter 1 (continued)

The security officer stationed outside the Infirmary straightened as Hope appeared along curve of the passageway. His looked Hope over quickly and then nodded slightly.

“Doctor.”

Hope saw no reason to address him in kind, so she waited, mildly surprised when he reached over and opened the hatch for her. She strode steadily past him, not hurrying, but sensed his eyes following her inside. The interior lights brightened toward full illumination as she entered. Turning out of habit to close the hatch behind her, she found it already in the process of being closed. For no clear reason she could immediately identify, she found the action somewhat unsettling.

She spent only a moment considering it before turning her attention to her more critical task. From a cabinet next to the hatchway, she removed a case already filled with essential emergency medical supplies. Moving to another cabinet, which opened at her touch, she withdrew two additional ampoules and then removed a small container from a drawer to her left. She added all of these items to the contents of the case before heading back toward the hatchway.

She had to enter her security access code before the hatch would unlock and allow her to exit. This time, she found it not at all unexpected when the hatch seemed to open of its own accord, aided by the guard outside. She stared at him for an instant, and then, without a word, continued down the passageway that would take her to Deck Two, Section Eight.

Emerald Flight: “Past Imperfect” – Chapter 1 (continued)

Hope paused in the corridor as the security officer closed the hatch behind her. She had briefly considered requesting that the Captain accompany her to the Infirmary so that she could treat the minor abrasion on her forehead. However, she never spoke the request, for Hope knew that, short of being unconscious, the Captain would not leave the bridge until she was certain that her crew and ship were safe.

The female guard returned to her position next the hatchway. Hope noted that the woman’s eyes regarded her with hard expression. Hope had seen such expressions before. For all their beneficial qualities, many humans still held an arrogant, often almost hostile, attitude toward aliens. It in no way disturbed her. If, in fact, she had feelings about the matter it was disappointment that the officer’s outlook was so limiting in it prejudice.

The security presence aboard the Ship was unusual. Under most circumstances, the crew took care of security matters on their own. According the Captain, a Colonel had insisted that an official guard detail be aboard the Ship for this mission and be placed at all key access points, including the Bridge, Main Engineering, and Shuttle.

As she moved down the passageway away from the Bridge, all observations of the behavior of the security officer now compartmentalized away for later consideration if she so chose, she determined the most efficient path between the Infirmary and Deck Two, Section Eight. Although she had been informed that neither injury appeared to be immediately life-threatening, she preferred to evaluate their condition of the crew members herself before having them transported to the Infirmary for more thorough treatment.

Emerald Flight: “Past Imperfect” – Chapter 1 (continued)

Devereux watched peripherally as Hope exited the bridge. Once she was certain that the medical officer was on her way, and the hatch had closed behind her, Devereux murmured to herself, “Okay, then. Let's at least find out where we really are.”

She worked several controls at her station, but nearly all of them presented her with data that was either conflicting or meaningless. It was a clear sign that systems were still compromised from whatever had happened to them.

She looked up, peering at the flickering and indistinct images displayed on the main bridge displays. She could make out what appeared to be a field of stars—to be expected—but little else. Interference from the ship’s degraded systems prevented the view from resolving into anything more recognizable.

“Ensign,” she called out. “What's our position?”

The young officer’s hands moved expertly, yet almost frantically, over his console. “Working on it now, Captain.” There was a pause while he checked the readouts again. “Many systems are still malfunctioning or offline, Captain. Coordination is difficult.”

Devereux sent a quick smile of encouragement in his direction. “Keep at it, Ensign.”

She stared at the flickering star field and frowned.

Emerald Flight: “Past Imperfect” – Chapter 1 (continued)

Hope stood before the auxiliary environmental control station. Her hands worked methodically and precisely at the controls. She appeared to pause for the briefest moment, as if sensing Devereux’s gaze on her, but completed her task before turning to face her Captain.

Her dark, unblinking eyes met Devereux’s. “Life Support, environmental systems, function normally.” Her voice was calm and almost completely without inflection.

Devereux nodded and continued to study Hope's alien eyes for a moment before she turned and returned to the command deck. She silently surveyed the condition of the bridge once more before once again activating the intercom.

“Chief,” she said, swallowing back her growing impatience. “I'd like that report now.”

“All the main systems are working as expected,” Rusty’s voice echoed faintly. Devereux guessed that he was shouting into the open intercom from a short distance away. “But the slipstream drive is shot.”

Devereux fought back her frustration with a barely audible sigh. “Okay, Chief,” she managed evenly. “Let me know as soon as you find out something.”

“Of course, Cap’n,” came Rusty’s response after a slight, but noticeable, delay.

Was there a trace of sarcasm there? Devereux switched off the channel before she could know for certain. Her eyes moved back toward Hope. The Aerian xenobiologist interpreted the act of eye contact as permission to speak.

“Casualties reported. Deck Two. Section Eight.”

Devereux felt her lips tighten. Before she could speak, the lights brightened to normal illumination. She looked around quickly with a growing sense of relief. Nodding to Hope, she said, “Go. It looks like we have things under control here.”

Hope responded with a slight nod. “Yes, Captain.” With a steady, deliberate stride, she left the bridge.