Ian began re-assessing the main Console, putting it through its paces and testing functionality as Theobald spoke.
His face was screwed up in concentration and he may have seemed lost in his work,
but he was sure to listen to Theobald carefully.
"Well," he replied, grinning. "The HN- series are certainly alright engines but perhaps not the best in the long run.
The Bretonian jobs aren't so bad either, though perhaps a bit finicky at times.
Of course I'd certainly avoid standard Civilian makes, as they're just too common, if you're going for looks.
Yes, indeed, I think the idea of Rheinlandic MOX Intermix Chambers is great.
The 'Reverie' would certainly stand out from the crowd with such a drastic change in her exhaust emissions.
But, Theo, it ain't up to me what engines you choose. She's your vessel, it's your choice, my good man.
I'm just here to get her flying again."
He fiddled a bit more with the console before giving it a pat and nodding once, apparently approving of the repair.
He then turned to fully face Theobald.
"It shouldn't be too hard to adapt engines for a Capital size vessel." He began, sounding a bit excited. "Most of the inner workings are quite the same, and these Renzu vessels certainly need the thrust they provide."
He wiped the sweat from his face, and produced a flask from his pocket.
He took a swig, and continued speaking, offering the flask to Theobald.
"The computers seem to be working now, we really got lucky they were mostly salvageable despite
seeming entirely trashed. I think we replaced a total of twelve wires.
So, anyhow, we'll be moving on to the Life Support and internal paneling,
then from there we can get to work on the core.
I imagine Rob's team will be getting started soon as well...
Once that's all done, we can get to the fun part.
And I do mean it when I say fun. I'm quite interested to see how she'll behave with adapted engines."
"I'm quiet sure she will be very different than before," Theobald said, shaking his head to Ians offer. He was not in the mood for a drink this early. He wanted to keep his head clear. "Altough we change a vital part of the ships character," he continued, "ever since she was damaged she has changed already. So she will have quiet a bit different character in the future. But I am anxious to see what she will be like too." He nodded to Ian and smiled.
"Then it is decided. Use a MOX Intermix Chamber and adept it to the Reverie. If you need any help by me, my crew or Orbital, let me know. Meanwhile I will get out of your way so you can work in peace."
He looked to the revitalised computer console and continued smiling: "If you do everythings this quick and efficient as you just showed, I will have my hands full to finish all the preperations for Reverie's Resurrection Party on time." He chuckled.
"Well, you're not really in the way...
These folks would just run you over if you were."
Ian said with a chuckle, indicating his Engineers. "But, as you wish, we'll use the MOX Chambers once we reach that phase."
Ian smiled at Theobald before turning and barking orders at his crew to get back to work.
*********************
The work order had been made,
and the materials had arrived for the next phases of the repair.
Ian's team worked tirelessly on the interior systems, such as life support and the power core.
A few of Ian's stronger men busied themselves with the interior paneling,
masterfully using salvaged parts to complete most of the work.
Ian himself began to tinker with the power core, hoping to perhaps salvage anything of use
to make the job easier.
He felt hopeful that everything could be completed relatively quickly so long as
Rob and his folks got started soon as well.
The sounds of Junkers at work grew louder, and the occasional cursing in pain had reached its peak.
Getting the job done was priority number one, getting it done safely was but a mere afterthought.
If, indeed, safety was even considered at all.
All that mattered to Ian was that the job be done correctly.
He sincerely hoped he wouldn't have to push another Engineer out of the airlock onboard his Liner....
The claw-marks around its door were becoming obvious.
Nodding and turning around, Theobald made his way back to the airlocks. Just as he turned around the last corner, he was nearly run down by a mountain of a man, carrying parts of the inner paneling. "Watch it!" the man grunted, unimpressed by whom he nearly flattned, and just continued on his way, without loosing stride. Theobald exhaled, shook his head and left his ship, nearly deafened by the noise coming from its belly.
Everything was done to make sure the Reverie will rise again. But there were still a lot of things to decide and to organise, before his ship will shine again as one of the stars of Orbital Spa and Cruise. Even if she was working again, she would look patched up. Thus he needed to make sure the interior will be polished to the highest White Star Lines Standards, as she has been before. For this he would need to contact Deep Space Engeneering on Baltimore Shipyard, since they had the most experience with OS&C vessels. It won't come cheap to move everything from Liberty to Omega-3, but he wanted to finish everything here, before the ship leaves Freeport 1. And he would need the current regulations for the interior standard outfit of the ship, thus another message to Johnathon Seabourne was in order.
And then there was the small thing he was plannening when everything was finsihed. This needed also a lot of organisation. Theobald sighed, set down at the desk in his room and got to work.
With the start of a new day, the Junkers descended upon the 'Reverie' once more.
The replacement power core was almost fully installed,
and Life Support showed its first signs of life when run on a power generator the previous day.
Ian and his crew worked harder, and louder, much to the chagrin of almost everybody on Freeport 1.
The noise was reaching a level that seemed too loud to be allowed.
But with each passing hour, the interior paneling took shape, and the replacement power core
was nearer and nearer to being fit for testing.
Everything was looking promising to Ian.
But, as nothing can ever go perfectly, the Life Support began to malfunction once again, almost as soon as the
new power core was activated for the first time.
This time was more dangerous, however, as a toxic-smelling smoke began pouring through the ventilation,
forcing the Junkers to wear breathing gear.
Large make-shift signs had now been posted at all entryways onto the ship, which were now sealed off:
WARNING!
TOXIC GASSES
NO ENTRY WITHOUT
BREATHING APPARATUS
NO EXCEPTIONS
YOU WILL DIE
Ian directed his entire crew to quickly finish the interior paneling,
so work on the out of control Life Support could begin before it choked them all,
breathers or not.
As the last panel was put in place, Ian breathed a sigh of relief,
his visor fogging up with the moisture in his breath. Alright folks, now we move on to Life Support.
Make this infernal thing stop spewing smoke, any way you can.
I'll be back...I forgot my flask, and I need a drink."
Without so much as looking back, he made his way off the 'Reverie', and down to the bar for his fix,
removing only his breather helmet, but leaving the rest of the suit on.
He entered the bar with his helmet held at his side.
The bartender gave him a dirty look and muttered something incomprehensible about noise,
but served him a very full Whiskey on the rocks anyhow.
Ian slowly sipped his glass, finishing only when the ice had completely melted.
He then ordered another drink, a dirty Martini this time, and spent about an hour savoring it.
After finishing his Martini, he paid his tab and made his way back to the 'Reverie',
feeling alive again.
Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw when he donned his helmet once more
and stepped back on board, the warning signs still glaring in the face of anyone who approached.
He was amazed.
The air had cleared, and his crew had shed their breathing gear in favor of flimsy filtration masks.
Ian removed his own gear, and asked, trying not to choke on the lingering stench, "So, anyone figure out why the Life Support just tried to smoke us out?"
He paused, then continued. "I thought we nearly had it working."
To which, James, the tall Bretonian Engineer with dreadlocks replied, "You'll never believe it, Ian, but there was a damned chair in the duct work.
No idea how it got there, perhaps in the attack, but there it was.
Damn thing was nothing but a smoldering mess when we found it."
James shook his head in obvious disbelief.
Ian couldn't help but laugh, he had expected it to be something more terrible than a chair.
His crew were giving him a strange look, as though they thought he'd finally cracked.
He didn't care. He had assumed the smoke had a much more troubling source.
Perhaps a short circuit, maybe one of the replacement parts was defective, or something gruesome like a charred body.
But he had to admit that he was glad that a chair was the cause, and not some major malfunction.
The Junkers continued to tweak and put the finishing touches on anything they'd thought they missed.
Ian had to admit, the interior being in one piece again was a good feeling.
It wasn't the prettiest of things yet, the patchwork being quite obvious.
But all in all, the interior was whole again, ready for paint, polish, and whatever furnishings were desired.
Things were going smoother than Ian could have ever hoped they would on a job this big.
Systems functional, computers once again online. Life Support providing clean air.
Short of the exterior paneling and engines, she was ready to fly again.
Ian looked around, taking in the fruits of their labor, and asked himself. "Where the hell is Rob?"
Reverie - Deck 3, Omega 3 System -
3rd Shift - The Final Day, 0030 Hours
Rob walked up behind Ian. "Rumor mill is you were looking for me." Rob gestured to the rebuilt liner "This sort of magic doesn't happen without my personal attention. You outta know that." He laughed heartily. "You outta also let the Captain know we went a little overboard on the external hull plating. It will cost him in total capability. But next time he gets on the wrong side of a fire fight he just might not need to call us for another repair. "
"So, to talk turkey." Rob produced two tablets from his overalls, handing one off to Ian. "Between the fuel, the man hours, supplies, that god awful work order. You're look'n at an even 150 million. Now, I can tell by your face that you weren't expecting to get a bill. But you aren't the Arbiter, and frankly we both know that he would be mighty upset to hear that I'm so, very, very, very far from Tarancon.". In a slightly sing song tone he continued. "BBBBUUUUUUUTTTTT, I could be convinced to forget about this bill. For a minor favor."
After a slightly uncomfortable silence Rob continued. "Vieques Shipyard still needs a Chief Engineer on the night shift. Now I know what your now thinking. I'm clearly on the Arbiters ***** list there is no reason for you to join me. But we both know that she isn't in Puerto Rico anymore, and Tiltman isn't awake at night like we are. More importantly you need someone like me closer to home. Someone especially like me who can drop everything to work on your little charity projects."
"Find someone else to punish with Tarancon, tell Tiltman you've moved me somewhere else, neglect to say where. You get a competent engineer, I get off of Tarancon, and Tiltman thinks I'm still being punished. Everybody wins. Well almost everyone wins, excep' whosoever' going out to Tarancon."
"So, bribery isn't above you, eh?"
Ian said with a chuckle, appraising Rob's work. "Much to your probable dismay, Rob, I was expecting a bill.
I know you don't do nothin' for free."
He was still looking up and down the 'Reverie', obviously impressed with the quick turnaround.
He cracked his knuckles and continued speaking.
"As to that little favor...
I could just pay you and leave you to rot on Tarancon.
But there's no good in that, and you've done a fine job here.
So...I suppose I'll entertain you. I'll be needing good hands at Vieques anyhow,
and you and your folks have proven more than capable."
Ian gave Rob a sinister grin, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.
"Of course...this favor you're asking is worth quite a bit more
than your bill, so keep in mind that if I do this for you, you owe me."
Ian produced a flask from his pocket, and took a deep swig. "All I've got left to do here is adapt the engines the Captain wanted,
and hand him back the keys.
Then I can fly back to Bering. You can go ahead and pack your **** and book it to Vieques.
I don't know what I'll tell Tiltman, or who I'm gonna ship to Tarancon, but we'll worry about that later.
Shouldn't take more than twelve hours to get those engines workin', lets just hope they don't explode in my face."
*************************
Ian held true to his mental estimates, he and his Engineers getting the engines installed, adapted,
and even having a successful test fire in only ten hours time.
Granted, they pushed, welded, hammered, and adjusted like madmen.
His crew were to thank for the heavy lifting,
but they kept saying "Dunno how we'd do it without you, boss."
And if he was honest with himself, he didn't know how they'd do it without him either.
After all, he had a history of pushing incompetent engineers through the airlocks out into open space.
This was, he thought, probably the only reason he had such good Engineers now.
Survival of the fittest, or in this case, most competent.
Once they had had a second successful test fire, Ian went down to the bar,
relieving his crew of work duties, and allowing them leisure time.
He was hoping to run into Theobald, and was eager to tell him the good news.
The 'Reverie' was ready to fly, as far as Ian could tell.
Everything was working, right down to the smallest articulation of the turrets.
Ian couldn't help but feel proud of the work they had done.
Though, personally, he would have scrapped such a mess
as opposed to fixing it.
But that was never his decision to make, so he contented himself
to sipping a glass of Whiskey, listening to the bar patrons' banter,
and wondering if he should go look for Theobald.
Theobald leaned back into his chair, having just finished his message to DSE. He knew the people of Baltimore were gifted with OS&C vessels. He just hoped they were not too expensive when working off their station.
Franklin rubbed his eyes. Although being tired he felt restless. Something was not right and he felt more closed in than ever before. he needed to get out. So he droped his uniform and put on more casual clothes; jeans, an old t-shirt and his worn but trusted leather jacket. He practicaly ran to the docks and only minutes later he zoomed out in his old but trusted Arrow Interceptor, callsign The-o-Bolt.
For hours he just zig-zaged around the Omega Systems, dodging through the asteroid fields or sitting outside nebulae, staring into the nothingness. He even took a look around New London, altough when some Mollies showed up, he returned. He hasn't felt so alive in days and he relished to be out and about for the shear joy of it.
When he felt a bit back to his old self he turned the Light Fighter around and headed back. Just as he dropped out of the trade lane near Freeport 1, a glare caught his eyes. He steered his ship closer. It was coming from the Reverie. He inhaled sharply as he saw the exhausts of the Liner activating and test firing. The picture was so unexpected, that his mind needed a moment to realize what he actually saw.
After several minutes hanging in space, mouth agape, Theobald snapped out of it and activated his comm. "Stev, is it true?" he asked to the comm-unit. "What, boss?" the voice of his chief engineer asked slowely. Theoabld has clearly woken him. "That these junkers managed to install the new engines? Why else would I call at this time?" Theoabld asked, a bit annoyed that Stevan was not able to read his mind through a comm-unit, "I just saw her test-firing and it looked good!" "Well, the last thing I heared and saw was that the Junkers are nearly done with the ship. They worked like madmen to be done as quick as possible," Stevan stiffled a yawn, "why don't you talk with Commandant Howler? I guess you will find him at your bar. At least I saw him walking towards it before I went to bed." "Thanks, sleepyhead," Theoabld chuckled, "continue with your beauty sleep. You do need it."
Stevan ended the call with a grunt and left Theoabld alone in his Arrow again.
A quater of an hour later Captain Franklin strode into his usual bar, still waering his jeans and leather jacket. He had been to anxious and has simply passed changing into his usual attire. He spotted Ian sitting at the exact same spot the last time he himself has been sitting.
He strode up next to him, sat down and said: "Two more, Sandra, please," he gesticulated for him and Ian next to him. Then he turned and grinned from ear to ear at the Commandant: "it seems I need to congratulate you, Commandant."
Ian waved dismissively at being congratulated. This type of work was standard to a Junker. "Well I can't say it was difficult. Perhaps a bit unorthodox, using those MOX Chambers,
but not really difficult. Hell, I think Rob already left. Him and his folks got the exterior paneling and armor
done so fast I couldn't believe it. But it's to spec, and then some.
This is why I call Rob for those kinds of things."
He yawned a few times as he spoke, obviously very tired.
Sipping his drink, a slightly disappointed look came over him. "I wish we coulda made her look perfect.
But, any well trained eye can see the patchwork. You don't seem bothered by it, even though she needs repainted,
and the entire interior needs redecorated. Everything is to spec, of course...don't get me wrong.
We may even have gone a little overboard in some places.
Should be pretty tough to so much as scratch her now..."
He swirled the contents of his glass, looking thoughtful for a moment before speaking again.
"Thanks for the drink, Theo.
As for the bill...there isn't going to be one this time."
He paused and finished his glass. He then chuckled, and said. "You could send me a bottle of Whiskey some day, but...
All I ask is that you take good care of her, and continue to take the pride in your vessel that you obviously have.
You never once gave up on her, Theobald.
You never thought about scrapping her, did you?
Even though most people would have?
Don't answer that. I wouldn't be here if you had."
He smiled at Theobald, and ordered himself another drink. "I'll be heading back to Bering soon. You keep yourself well, Captain. Take care."
It burned like hell, but Ian drained his new drink in one gulp.
He stood up, and walked from the bar, heading to his own Liner,
which was being prepared for the journey back. He never once looked back.
He didn't like to say goodbyes to decent people, you never know if you'll see someone again when you live the life of a space-farer.
He looked at the back of Ian, as the Junker left. He swallowed hard. He had liked this man like a brother from the first time they had met, although he still hardly knew him. "No, I would never scrap her deliberately," he mumbled at the empty chair beside him. He gulped his glass down in one large swallow. Nodding to Sandra he left.
Automatically he turned down to the connecting airlock of the Reverie. He deliberately ignored the Pilgrim Liner next to her. It was easier to think that they all had left already.
With a hissing sound the airlock opened and he entered the ship. It was deserted, but clean. Everywhere Theobald walked he could see the signs of the work the Junkers had done. The ship did look like a patched up bucket, well made, but still patched up. Deep Space Engineering will have a hell of a job to do to cover everything up, Theobald thought and sighed. He knew they would be here soon and then the ship will be a buzzing hive of activity again.
He took his time strolling through his ship, looking at every corner. Everything looked familiar and wasn't at the same time. Leaving through the airlock to the station again he couldn't shake the feelings he got from the ship, his Lady. No matter what she looked like at this moment, she still felt like the same lady he loved. And he knew that she will look the same soon. Well, mostly.