Broken Crown

Posted on Wed Jan 22nd, 2020 @ 7:33pm by Fordyce Kirschler PhD & Chief Engineer Michael Burnstein

Mission: Mission 10 - Temperance
Location: Deck 19, Parking Bay 2
1185 words - 2.4 OF Standard Post Measure

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Ford and the chief engineer had been standing in silent contemplation for a good while. The hull of what had once been the Couronne was in front of them. There were long scorch marks down the hull from where it had taken direct disruptor fire in the atmosphere of the pirate outpost moon. There were obvious stress fractures from the unstable warp field, and the casing of an entire warp nacelle had fallen off on to the deck upon landing. The exposed portions of the navigational array were charred and hideous; by contrast, the small deflector dish at front was shattered into a trillion pieces and actually looked pretty in the right light.

Ford cut his eyes to the side to look at the engineer. He rocked on his heels a bit and made a passable attempt at selling the lie. "Yep, one hell of a plasma storm, I tell ya."

"Uh-huh." The engineer's tone said all that needed to be said about just how believable that story was. But Burnie was an engineer, not a JAG, and he had no interest (at the moment) in teasing out the truth of what had obviously involved disruptor fire. He would remember the remark though, if only to mention it to Liha. The Romulan would find such rank amateur-level dissembling highly amusing. "Shame to see a ship like this in that condition," he tsked. "But she's not necessarily a total loss. I've seen worse."

Ford let out a genuine laugh. "You've seen worse? Where, a Ferengi scrap heap? A Pakled shipyard?"

Burnie glanced at him sidelong. "A combat zone," he replied deadpan.

"No kiddin'?" asked Ford. He turned back toward the ship. "Well I'll be. Huh. You figure somebody was shootin' at me in that plasma storm?"

Excitable, isn't he? Burnie thought, and regretted that the special forces pilot who'd been fond of that phrase wasn't here to respond with an appropriate level of snark. Instead, he just shook his head and chuckled. "Doesn't much matter at this point. The damage is done and it will take a lot of work, and more than a little investment in replacement parts to get her flying again."

Ford had run rough figures in his head; there was no way he could afford to fix it through legitimate means. Taking it back to the shipyards would cost a small fortune, assuming he could even get it there. It really wasn't space worthy, which meant he'd either need a tow service or to hire this ship to convey it somewhere. He had a sinking feeling the Couronne would never be the same.

"The work I can do. I'm an ops man not a shipwright, but it can't be all that hard. And I had a good foundation back at the Academy," said Ford. He ran a hand through his hair and turned more fully toward the ship's chief engineer. "Don't suppose you've got an industrial replicator on board and a bunch of excess energy production?"

Now Burnie let out a real laugh, partly at the presumption that the leap from ops to shipwright was a small leap, but mostly at the question. "We're on a century old Connie turned merchant vessel. What about that description says 'industrial replicator' or excess energy'?"

"Nothin'. But you're the one out here in the middle of nowhere salvaging a Starfleet ship," replied Ford with a shrug. "I don't know what else you people are capable of."

"Yeah, well, working miracles to keep this Connie running is a labor love." Burnie looked at him sidelong. "All others pay cash, as they say." Returning his attention to the ruined corvette, he pursed his lips. "But I'm sure we can get the structure spaceworthy with some spare material and a bit of elbow grease. The engines though..." he shook his head sadly, it was shame to see nice engines so blown out, "...I might be able to get impulse back, but warp is going to take a lot more in replacement than what we have lying around."

Ford took a step or two closer to the Couronne and made a cursory inspection of the exposed starboard warp nacelle, mostly for show. He knew the damage was extensive. One functional nacelle wouldn't generate a stable field, and an unstable warp field was what got him here in the first place so it didn't make much sense to try to go down that route.

"You know, my day would've been mightily improved if you'd just said, 'You're in luck! We're carrying a whole shipment of universally compatible warp coils.'"

Burnie shrugged. "My day would've been improved by not having to deal with a wrecked ship popping in. So, as the old song goes, 'You can't always get what you want...' "

Ford gave it a moment's thought then shook his head. "Don't know that one. What else you got on your hands here, chief? Sorry I came crashin' in, but maybe I could lend a hand. I know a thing or two about a thing or two."

Did no one learn the classics anymore? Burnie sighed. "If you went to the Academy, maybe you can help out. We do have a constant job keeping systems on this Connie running, plus right now we're evaluating the abandoned ship out there - repair or strip for salvage." He scanned across the wrecked corvette again. "Basically what you need to decide here, actually."

Ford looked at the Couronne, aghast. "That's my soul there, fella. I couldn't scrap her even if I wanted to. Nope, repair is the only way for me. Now that other piece of junk out there... Ain't seen one of them since the war. Prolly been floating out here ever since, and I don't reckon it's been keeping itself on a regular maintenance schedule. They put them funny neural networks on those things, too. So that's prolly shot. Course... I wouldn't know without seeing it."

The hint landed with all of Ford's usual subtlety.

"Eh, neural nets I know how to handle. I went through the Academy too, so I've had some training on ships from that era," he replied casually. He wasn't entirely sure about Ford. The way he'd popped in seemed too odd, and interest in checking out this ship might not be purely an offer of trading skill for service and parts. But it wasn't his call to make. "Not that we couldn't use extra hands, but that's up to the Captain."

"Yeah, we got a meetin' later on," replied Ford. He turned his attention back to the ship for a minute and heaved a sigh. "Well, leave her in your custody for now, I reckon? Pendin' what me and the captain work out."

Burnie nodded. He wasn't sure about Ford, but he understood the regret at a fine ship now in ruins. "I'll keep her in one piece, or as close to it as when she arrived."

OFF:

Michael Burnstein
Chief Engineer
SS Mary Rose

Dr. Ford Kirschler
Consultant
Bank of Bolias

 

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