(Sent this from wrong address first time, sorry if this shows up twice...)
We all start somewhere.This is a re-imagined and recast retelling of where I started in this little thing called 'simming.' This is wrought from a chat document that I have saved all of these years, though how or why I did so I can't really explain. Anyway, enjoy. And this does take place a few years in our current timeline's past. And Brad, sorry if I've misused your character a little here. :)
I give you: the 'biofuel incident.' What To Do by Cadet Shawna Kenton & Cadet Alyssa Pierce & the attendees of the CPA academy sim in September of 2003“What to do, what do do,” came a whisper in the dark, followed closely by, “God fucking damn it, fuck. Shit,” and a string of similar plosives. Not a good start.
Shawna pawed through the empty cabinets, the storage compartments in the walls of the science lab. The absence of objects within these spaces gave them an unavoidable taste of eternal uselessness, and she voiced this. Her utterance created a shockwave of philosophy throughout the other science cadets: if there is nothing to put in an empty space, what is an empty space? What purpose does it serve? Does it truly exist without purpose? This chance installation of perplexing thought, Shawna considered, was the only plausible reason for everyone else’s complete silence and inactivity.
Flashlight, she thought. She put the image in her head like a wanted poster for her policing fingers, and this thought was in the shape of a hope. Turned out that it did a lot more than that. The cold, reptilian skin of a standard bludgeon-ready Maglite flashlight, met her fingers in the second-to-last cabinet before she would have given up. Convenience rattled her brain.
Shawna thumbed the button on the flashlight’s chin and sparked a cone of light into the ceiling. She swerved the light cone over the faces of her dumbfounded compatriots. “Um,” she said, “look around for some candles.”
One of the cadets—or possibly all the cadets, but Shawna could only see one in the Maglite’s gaze—turned her head to a guy standing near her. “Um,” she echoed. “Candles, sir?”
“Sir?” Shawna quavered. “Um,” she repeated. These were often ripe breeding grounds for the Um virus. “Um, yeah. Candles. If all the power’s out, we should get candles. So we can, um, see. Like. Uh, yeah, can’t be going around a’stumben in the darkness. Look around, there’s gotta be some around here.”
“Yes sir,” said a voice out of the light. “If you say so, sir.”“What’s with this sir shit?” said Shawna, then clapping a white- knuckled hand to her mouth. To the air, she said, “Sorry, sorry. What’s with this sir business?”
“Permission to call you ma’am, sir,” said another voice.“That doesn’t seem like something I should give permission for, but, uh, sure. Granted, I mean. Permission granted.”
“Yes ma’am.” “Find any candles?”“Um,” said another victim of the virus, “actually, ma’am, yes, ma’am. Matches too.”
“What?” said someone else. “Where?”The emergency lighting kicked on, wrapping the science lab in a transparency of thick red. It reminded Shawna of those movies with scenes that take place in submarines. Or Halloween parties. “Never mind,” she said. “Guess we don’t need them.”
Everyone who had found the candles set them down and forgot about them immediately. Then, as if luck was just waiting for its grand exit, the emergency lighting was snuffed in a blink.
Shawna snarled and spat, “Well shit!” Someone bumped into her from behind and knocked her off her balance. With trebling whoas, both Shawna and the other person fell to the floor with the mystery person’s hands accidentally finding themselves on Shawna’s chest.
“Chief?” said the person, who was a woman, whose voice Shawna recognized.
“Yes! It’s me, Ms. Pierce! Now stop groping me!”Pierce realized the spots of Shawna’s body they were covering were a tad private, then retracted. “Sorry, ma’am.”
There came vocal boom through the shells of the air: the voice of the CO. Attention all hands, attention all hands. The Crusher is being pulled into the star. Repeat, the Crusher is being pulled into the star. Supernova in minus eighteen minutes, repeat, supernova in minus eighteen minutes. Brace for turbulence, repeat, brace for turbulence. All engineering officers, report to the...
Shawna, Pierce, and the others flew to the portholes dotting the fore- side edge of the science labs. Lasting as if ever planted in the garden of stars was a flower of pure white. The sun was massive, flaring like a violent lash of ribbons at the end of handlebars. The Crusher was moving closer to it by the second.
The intercom announced, Backup power is stabilizing, ushering in a wave of the gelatinous red light. Screens of the consoles birthed their blinking lights. Then the intercom spoke more locally: Commander Weis to Chief Kenton, we need the sensors operational, stat.
Her hand fluttering like a broken butterfly, Shawna released her symptomatic hum, remembered to tap her badge, and said, “Yes ma’am, we’ll get the sensors online. Um, Kenton out?” There came no further reply. Must have been the right thing to say.
Feeling as if she would plow into any number of dimensionless obstacles in this laser-red lighting, Shawna powered to the row of consoles on the far side of the labs, her knuckles cracking under the whip of her thumb. Pierce’s hand clenched her elbow just momentarily enough to stop her and spin her respectively around.
“Ma’am,” she said, “sorry ma’am, but, uh...” Pierce published an embarrassed headline of expression on her brow, suggesting things with her eyes, reminding Shawna of as many things as she could before the Crusher got any closer to the erupting star.
The motive spawned in Shawna’s brain in a flickering moment, and she nodded hesitantly. “Right. Pierce?” she hazarded, “man the center console. Chesterfield, Malark, Singer, and Olyrin, I want you on support for Pierce. Get those sensors back online. Sh’Geh, monitor the power influx from engineering. Reroute any excess power back to engineering, and get on the horn to them. Tell them to recapitulate their input to whatever percentage you find necessary. Can’t let an overload of power cloud the sensor readouts. Puhling, you’re the eyes. I want you testing sensor array 259 every minute on the minute. Pierce, sanction 259 from your console analysis. We need a control here.”
“Right, ma’am,” said Pierce. “Yes ma’am,” said Puhling.The words holy fuck did I just do that scrolled like a city marquee across Shawna’s brain, lightning speed. Eight question marks per iteration. She was right-smart proud of herself, she was.
While her team busied upon the tasks, she applied her own as a tertiary hand to their efforts, leaning her hearing to the echoes of the intercom. Back up power draining, it said. Ship drifting faster, it said. Engineering unsuccessful, it said. Fear, real fear, manifested inside her, and she could not exorcise it.
“Pierce,” she said. “Hurry and get those sensors online.” Pierce replied, “I’m working, ma’am! I’m working!”The fear was in her too. It was in all of them. This fear was what propelled them through their functions, what told their fingers what to do, where and when to do it, and why. For their lives, for their success. The fear of failure.
All doors on board were locked open in emergencies to reserve power and allow emergency access. Crewmen surged aft toward Medical, holding broken ribs and arms, relying on human crutches. Dialogue between Puhling and Engineering revealed ongoing and unresolvable problems with power drainage, courtesy of the dying star. There was nowhere near enough power to get to the warp core, and the nacelles were leveling at ten percent—which was, needless to say, insufficient against the pull of the star. Shawna believed that she was about to die.
“Fuck,” she whispered inaudibly. “Fuck this.” “Got it!” Pierce declared. “Ma’am, I got it!” Shawna tapped her badge, “Kenton to Weis. Sensors online, ma’am!” Report, Chief.Pierce chimed in. “Commander, this is Pierce. Sensors are showing that we’re no longer at a safe distance. If the star blows, so do we.”
Commander Weis confirmed their situation. Chief Kenton, Engineering is unable to stabilize our power generators. The star is siphoning all of our power away from the Crusher. We need a new way to power up and get out.
At once, every trail of energetic juice in Shawna’s body dried and flew away into dust. Shit, she thought. Shit my fuck. Failure. She had failed all of these people: Pierce, Puhling, Chesterfield, Malark, Singer, Olyrin, Sh’Geh. They all turned to her expectantly, nailing the failure into her like nails on a coffin.
She wracked her brain. “Fuck,” she muttered, not caring about those who heard her. “Fuck,” she said again.
Chief Kenton?And a single word, divorced from any previously existing context to which it could apply, dropped into her brain, tumbled and crashed, and fell out of her mouth: “Pierce, has that new biofuel been tested yet? That may be our only chance!”
“Not a chance,” said Pierce, shaking her head. “It hasn't been tested for shuttles, let alone full size ships. Plus, we haven’t even adapted it to the engines yet.”
Shawna scratched at her chin and jutted her jaw. “We may have to gamble,” she said to Pierce.
Pierce twitched her head obligatorily to the side as if to reply, It’s up to you, Chief.
Taking that as a good sign of acquiescence, Shawna nodded assuredly, tapped her badge, remembered the channel was still open, tapped it again hurriedly and said, “Ma'am, we have the new biofuel completed, but it hasn't been tested yet. That may be our chance at getting out of here before that star blows.”
Will it do any damage to us? asked Weis.“There’s a good chance we'll make it if we install it correctly, ma’am,” said Shawna. “Worst it can do is nothing.”
Go for it then, Kenton, said Weis. See what you can do, and give me updates on your progress. Weis out.
Shawna, since this biofuel thing was her baby, decided that to command others in this venture would be lazy. She motioned a quick cycle of her elbow toward where the biofuel was stored and said, “Pierce, and, uh, Olyrin. Grab the biofuel. We’re gonna install it. Come on! Everyone else, secure the systems for the infusion of the new fuel source. Have Engineering clear the installation deck so it’s ready when we get there. Let’s, uh, let’s move!”
Shawna pulled a biofuel canister from the compartment in the corner and handed it to Olyrin behind her, handed another to Pierce, then put one under her own arm.
Pierce asked as they left, “Do you think the compound will hold in the warp manifold?”
With a high voice preparing to be out of breath, Shawna replied, “It should.”
The three of them barreled down the hallway with the canisters under their arms. Pierce posed another question: “Do you think that the stability will allow for a warp reaction?”
“There’s a good chance, Pierce. There’s a good chance.”“How would you modulate the containment field if it didn't? We've only worked with basic sets of conversion ratios.”
Where does she come up with this shit? “We’re really gambling here,” Shawna admitted. “I know, I know we’re gambling, which I hate to do, but we must. We just don’t have any time to think about this here. As I said to the commander, worst case scenario is that it plainly doesn’t work and we get pulled into the star.”
“But how would you fix the problem, ma’am? We might as well have a plan when we get down there. The containment field’s going to produce an adverse reaction if we don’t modify it.”
Shawna turned over her shoulder, stuttering, but sure. “I’ll leave that to you, Pierce. Your uh, your, no. Our fate is in your hands.”
“Great.”“We're going to inject the fuel cells directly into the engine and boost us out of here as soon as we can. While Olyrin and I get on that, you be prepared to get on that modification.”
Pierce nodded. “Yes ma’am.” She then slowed without stopping, taking a deep breath. “Chief, ma’am, where are we going?”
Matter-of-factly, Shawna replied, “The turbolifts.”“Turbolifts are offline in situations of power flux,” said Pierce. “And Engineering is twelve decks down.”
Beneath her, above her, around her, Shawna felt the Crusher shudder with the pull of the star. The nacelles were beginning to murmur in their power output. They needed to hurry. More transients to Sickbay stumbled past them, groaning through their minor ailments at a problem that would not solve itself.
Panicked and fervent, Shawna replied, “Then we take the stairs! This our only chance! Come on!” And she began to run.
Pierce shuffled after her with the waddle of unsureness. “Stairs?” she said, cocking an eyebrow at her. She glanced over at Olyrin, who gave something like a shrug.
“That was a, uh...heh,” Shawna laughed nervously. “That was a...um, an expression, Pierce. That was an expression. I clearly meant the uh, the uh...the uh...”
“Jeff...?” Pierce proffered. “Jeff...ries?Shawna tried to align her word with that of Pierce: “Jeff...ries. Jeffries. Right. Jeffries. Um...”
“Tube...s?”Yes. Yes, god damn it. “Tubes. Jeffries Tubes. I clearly meant the Jeffries Tubes. And you know it.”
“Sorry ma’am,” said Pierce. “I really am.” “Right. Well.”Pierce pitched a thumb over her shoulder and pursed her lips. “Nearest Jeffries Tube is back that way, then, ma’am.”
“Right. Exactly. That’s where I... yeah. Know what, Pierce? You lead the way.”
Pierce strapped a wrist light to her arm and flashed it through the entrance of the Jeffries Tubes, which were turgid with closeness and heat. Shawna’s assistant officer was in the lead, and Olyrin brought up the rear. The whine of the ship coursed through these intertwining tubes like a river of mutinous worms. When Pierce made the final turn and opened the final hatchway onto Engineering, she sighed.
“Last stop,” said Pierce bleakly. “Engineering.”The engineers scurried about, pulling and flailing upon their consoles like frenzied demons. Hands flashed, burns calcified skin, screams of desperation soiled the peace. This was a place for stolid concentration.
“All right,” Shawna breathed reticently. “Pierce, go to work on the containment field. Olyrin and I will prep the fuel cells for immediate combustion.” Tapping her combadge, she said, “Kenton to Bridge. Soon as I modify these fuel cells, they’ll immediately combust after installed. Then we should be out of here.”
Go for it, Kenton, said the commander. Our lives are in your hands.“Thank you, ma’am,” said Shawna. “Olyrin, you get those two fuel cells prepped, and I’ll get this one. Let’s move.”
“Chief,” cried Pierce, “the containment field isn’t accepting the modifications! The parameters you wanted me to use aren’t working!”
“Keep at it! Get around the problem, Pierce, come on.” Shawna stabbed at the alteration pad on the side of the fuel canister. “Fuel cell modified. Olyrin?”
Olyrin held up two fingers in jog-on fashion and said, “Yep. Got em both.”
Shawna spun her head around so fast she could have attracted some relatively proportioned orbiting celestial bodies. “Pierce, how’s the containment field coming?” she called with rising urgency, and tone, and volume.
Mad with discontent, Pierce pounded her fists on the console and thrashed her jawline. “It’s not working!” she screamed. “Nothing I can calibrate will factor into the damn set! It won’t work!”
Patience unraveled to its last, piled upon the floor, and dispersed by a mad troupe of bandit kittens, Shawna unfastened her resolve. She bellowed, “Pierce! Make it work!” And in response to this command, Pierce did the one thing Shawna did not expect of a Starfleet officer: she ran.
She ran. Jesus shit, did she just run?“Pierce,” Shawna called after the frightened girl, luckily in time to stop her from fleeing engineering to cry in the furthest possible corner of the ship before it disintegrated. “Come on back, come on back. Here. Show me what the problem is.”
The girl composed herself with the proper dosage of critical equanimity and returned to the console, flicking her fingers about the screen and moving the little white variables about. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but the conversion factor just isn’t working. These two sets of variables aren’t checking out.”
Math was not an enemy to Shawna in school, but was rather an esteemed and formidable opponent: a challenger in the mists who beckoned the worst of risk and personal disassembly that a human brain could possibly desire. Something about this modulation equation—the shape of the thing—reminded Shawna of an old trick that couldn’t possibly hurt in trying now.
“Okay, here’s what you do,” she said complacently, in a tone heard more usually in coffee shops than on imminently exploding starships. “FOIL: first, outer, inner, last. Then you put this here, put that there, carry the four, divide by the resulting integer, FOIL again, and boom! Conversion factor!”
Pierce blinked. “Oh. Well that was easy.”“Always is, in math,” said Shawna. She clapped Pierce on the arm. “Okay, let’s get these fuel cells in.”
Each of them took a modified fuel cell in their hands and shoved them into the appropriate ingress shafts on the core. Closing the compartments, they placed their cold fingers on the controls for the valves, awaiting Shawna’s go.
With her free hand, Shawna tapped her combadge once more. “Kenton to Bridge. Fuel cells are ready to be installed. Once we close the valve, we’re out of here.”
The ship’s shaking became more constant, more insistent, more violent. Lights began to explode. Commander Weis’s voice broke through strident and clean amongst the rumbling elsewhere. Do it, Chief, she said. And do it now!
“On my three,” said Shawna. “One—” “On the three?” asked Pierce. “Or one, two, three, and then go.” “On three,” Shawna answered irately. “Ready? One! Two! Three!”They closed the valves, and Engineering was smeared with a viscous white light. Power permeated the senses, in touch and in smell and in sight. A rush propelled everyone present in one fluid direction as the ship zoomed away, splashing into a safe distance where energy could be restored to the functions, and the Crusher could return home.
--“And it was all thanks to Ms. Kenton’s... I’m sorry, what did you call it?” Sergeant Carding leaned in Shawna’s direction with narrow parenthetical eyes.
“Biofuel,” she answered. “Just some biofuel.”“Her biofuel. I guarantee, cadets, if you all show this amount of creativity and ingenuity with the standard education you will be receiving here at Starfleet Academy, you will go far. Excellently done, everyone. And let’s give a quick hand to our advanced students. Thank you all for helping us out with our aptitude exams. Couldn’t do it without you.”
Pierce, along with the half-dozen other surreptitiously implanted upperclassmen, nodded graciously at the applause of the crowded new students. All along, Pierce had been a full cadet, following along with Shawna’s foolery and subtly shepherding her in the generically right direction. Even when the biofuel (biofuel?! where the fuck does something like that come from? sheesh) plan came out of left field (that is exactly where something like that comes from), Pierce rolled with it. Even when Shawna used a factoring method she learned in her eighth grade algebra class, Pierce rolled with it. Even when Shawna yelled at her, she rolled with it. She even ran away in a fit of exasperated tears.
What an actor! “Excuse me, Ms. Pierce?”Pierce turned around from her fellow classmates, and Carding, who was joking and laughing with these students he had known for a few years. “Call me Alyssa, cadet. What can I do for you?”
“I just wanted to, uh, apologize for yelling at you in the simulation.”Alyssa Pierce half-smirked. “Don’t worry about it. Heat of the moment and everything. No offense taken. Good job taking command, though. You got any desire to be a commander or captain or something?”
“Oh Jesus, no,” she said. “I was just the bossy kid on the playground.”The other chuckled twice. “And good job on the improv, too. Biofuel, that FOIL thing... those are some funky methods.”
“Really? You didn’t think I was retarded or something? I know nothing about the technology in this century. It’s completely beyond me, to put it lightly.”
“Nah,” said Alyssa. “It’s why it’s called an introductory aptitude exam. You’re not supposed to know how everything works. Before the exam, they had us clear our minds and relax, right? It’s an empty slate, so that even if you think something you’re looking for will be there, the Betazoid test monitors can read your mind and program it in there for you. Every complicated thing in this world always comes down to the basic human roots of emotion, logic, and instinct. You just remember that when you get your pips, right?”
“Right,” said Shawna. “So what year are you?”Alyssa said proudly, “Third. About to study abroad on a starship for my fourth.”
“Wow,” said Shawna. “Congratulations, yeah?”Alyssa smiled. “Thanks. And you too. Good luck in the Academy, Ms. Kenton.”
++Yes, I did think starships had stairs. Yes, I did think that I should light candles. Yes, I did use FOIL to reconfigure the containment field. Yes, I was a total nub. But yes, I did make Kyle Pierce (in the original Academy Sim) run and cry under a console.
Good times.
