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Fathom's Phantoms Going it Alone

Alton cursed when he caught his thumb in the metal panel of the carbon dioxide scrubber. While most people considered the Life Support System to be an incredibly complex computer, the fact of the matter was that the majority of the systems that kept the Apercu habitable were all mechanical in nature, and that was the Donkey's specialty... or, rather, it would be, if he would have had the time to finish his apprenticeship to the ship's former Senior Engineer-- who had died unexpectedly.

Pulling the canisters free from the scrubber, he quickly replaced them with one of the alternate pairs. All in all, the shuttle had four pair, quite useful in the event that they needed a back-up. The scrubber canisters required ten hours of 'baking' to recharge for future use. He slid the two used canisters into the regeneration pump and flipped the lock-out before engaging the process.

The shuttle had been grounded for nearly two weeks, and during that time the Donkey engineer made certain that all of the ship's systems continued operating as well as possible. Despite the large number of repairs required, a good portion of his day was taken up with maintenance. It had taken him a week and a half to repair the Power Arrays to a high level of efficiency, and the two prior days were spent on the life support system.

The many components that made up the Environmental Control and Life Support System were both complex and advanced, and Alton was forced to engage in a crash-course of familiarization with the ship's ECLSS. Thankfully, his time at the academy had served him well and he was able to decipher it without making too many errors, but he had to admit that it was a very stiff learning curve. The fact that the ship's pilot, a Bug drone named Itchy continued to tell him that the flight system was more important, did not make his job any easier.

He tried on multiple occasions to tell the pilot that 71% efficiency on the flight controls was more than good enough for a shuttle that wasn't going anywhere, but the Bug continued to argue that the entire purpose for a space ship is to travel. Thankfully, in the case of repairs and maintenance, it was the engineer's call that won out against any but the captain... and Captain Keizer was not in any condition to give orders. That thought was not comforting.

Alton was not the most outgoing or personable Donkey and the amount of responsibility thrust onto his shoulders was not really helping. During his first few weeks aboard The Apercu he had gained the nickname "Burger". Originally the junior engineer thought the crew was referencing his preference for fast food, or because he came from a big city while the rest of them apparently came from small towns. It wasn't until the Senior Engineer, Sabeen Li explained the reason for the nickname that the donkey really understood how poorly he fit in.

He was given the nickname because of his difficulty in handling non-official interaction; it was chosen as a play-on-words regarding a social impairment diagnosed known as Asperger Syndrome often in the 21st century. The donkey was quite literally, the Ass, Burger. He remembered feeling embarrassed beyond belief, but Engineer Li had dismissed it as simple fun and games at the expense of the new guy. A few months later, she was dead, and he was forced to fill her shoes in a rather imposing way.

The Donkey quickly checked the back up systems for the ECLSS then rebooted them before checking the primary systems. He turned off the primary life support, quickly toggling to the secondary as he reset the system and then reactivated the main control. He pulled out a grease rag and began wiping the grime off of his hands as the system came back online. Smiling at his little victory, he raised his wrist-mounted Personal Communication Device and pressed the menu button so he could start initiating a diagnostic. Burger scowled at the blotch of grease he left on the device.

He murmured to himself as he worked. "Ninety Six percent... that's not bad."

Alton gazed around at the many blinking and glowing lights in the closet-sized ECLSS room; almost all of them were green and not a single one was red. Nodding in consideration, he moved on. "Not bad at all."

A commanding voice spoke up from the Donkey's PCD, interrupting his mini-celebration. "Alton?"

Burger raised it up again and looked into the video screen, immediately recognizing the ship's Security Commander. "Yea? I'm here."

The Neo-Human questioned him directly. "What are you doing?"

Burger had learned some time ago that Commander Ely preferred simple, to-the-point answers. "I just reset the Life Support."

"In the future let me know before you do."

The call disconnected. In any other circumstance, Burger might have considered the direction a dressing-down of sorts, but he had come to realize that Commander Ely was usually just forthright. He was also one of the few members of the ship's crew that gave him any degree of respect, hence using his name rather than the nickname.

Using his grease rag to wipe off the screen of his PCD, Burger realized that he didn't accomplish anything beyond redistributing the streak of grease. He didn't have time to worry about it, however, since he still had plenty to do. Pulling up another set of diagnostics, the donkey headed back into the hall and made his way toward the aft section of the ship: Itchy had been complaining about the flight controls and he figured it would be time to address the issue if, for no other reason, than to quiet the Bug.

He mumbled to himself, toggling through the buttons on his wrist-bound comm device, "Communication still good... Power back up to ninety nine..."

He continued clicking through the diagnostics, feeling a moment of pride for the job he'd done, "Flight systems seventy one..."

The sound of someone approaching him pulled him from his work. Alton sighed and looked up from his PCD just in time to come face-to-sternum with a wall of scales. Tirzsark, the ship's gunner quickly sidestepped the Donkey, who stumbled to a stop. "Whoa there, Burger... watch where you're going!"

The exclamation was not as much a growl as it was a declaration of reserved mirth, "We'd hate to lose a second engineer and I'd feel horrible if I crushed you."

The donkey backpedaled before quickly circling the reptile so he could continue his way down the hall. "I'm... uh... sorry, Tirzsark."

The Cytkus, unfortunately, turned to regard him. Tirzsark paused, causing Burger to do the same. The reptile looked as if about to say something, then just smirked, and about faced, heading off down the hall... but not before winking.

Of everyone on board, Tirzsark probably had Burger most off-balance socially. Neither male nor female, the Cytkus was a third sex. Although the donkey still wasn't exactly sure how it all worked, he HAD made the mistake of asking the Cytkus about it during their first week together, and he was surprised beyond belief when Tirzsark offered to give him a first hand understanding.

Thankfully the embarrassed Donkey had been rescued by a call from the senior engineer requesting his presence at the engine. The Cytkus, in parting, simply indicated that being a hemale meant that everyone was a target-- Burger never really did like the way that sounded.

Fortunately for the Donkey, Tirzsark's attention had been recently taken up by the ship's navigator, a Gorumn woman. Raska was about as far from feminine as any woman Burger had ever met but, then again, he heard that most Cytkus females were the largest and most headstrong of the species, so perhaps it made sense. The thought made him wonder if Tirzsark's interest in men would point toward the more withdrawn, meek, submissive kind; that thought concerned him in no small way-- the engineer had been described like that more than once.

Pushing the thought from his mind, Burger turned the corner, escaping view of the reptile. He let out a breath, glancing back over his shoulder once before continuing on. The Apercu was not a large ship but having to avoid a few sections of hall where the hull damage had caused a breach meant that he couldn't take the direct route. The damage the shuttle had sustained while navigating through the asteroid field meant that they lost two of the crew and the survey team they were transporting lost four.

Despite their losses, the survey team decided to go ahead with their mission and left a handful of days after the shuttle had landed. Since the shuttle's captain was in a coma and the ship's doctor was dead, the Overseer of the team elected to leave their field medic behind. It created no small amount of frustration within the survey team but she got them under control quickly enough. Aside from the Voljoi scientist's dislocated shoulder the remaining members of the team, Burger had understood that were relatively unharmed and the Overseer noted that the Captain needed medical care more than they did.

Even though Burger did not know the Gen 2 Pig very well, what he did know of her he liked. Beatrice Muntz, who told him to call her "B", was as socially capable and welcoming as he was not. She appeared to have little trouble making friends and had a calming personality that even put HIM at ease. She seemed to get along well with everyone in the ship: gracious with Tirzsark, pleasant with Itchy, direct with Ely Four, and patient with Burger.

It was in big part to her that he had not worked himself into unconsciousness; at the end of their first week on the planetoid she had given him something to help him relax at the end of his shift. The next thing he remembered was waking up refreshed and alert. If not for his general dislike of pharmaceuticals and her focus on the ship's captain he probably would have asked her for another. As it was, Burger was starting to feel the strain of being responsible for everything on the ship far too soon to be confident enough about it.

The Donkey was so caught up in his own thoughts that he almost ran straight into Commander Ely. The Neo-Human was just coming out of the Flight Control center and put a hand up to catch Burger, but the engineer managed to stop in time. "Uh... hello, Commander."

The Commander questioned him bluntly. "What are you doing here, Alton?"

"Itchy wanted me to look at the flight controls... he's been asking me to get around to it for--"

Commander Ely interrupted him. "It."

"Pardon, sir?"

Commander rested his hands on his hips, his right hand uncomfortably close to his sidearm, "Itchy is a drone... it doesn't like being called 'he' or 'she' any more than a Gen likes being called 'it'."

Burger's ears drooped slightly in embarrassment, "Oh...right." he cleared his throat, "It wanted me to look at the flight controls."

"And you haven't yet?" the Commander inquired.

A faint twinge of righteous indignation struck the Donkey at the comment, but he quickly suppressed it. As far as the shuttle was concerned, Commander Ely ranked right near the top in the chain of command while, as far as Burger was concerned, the junior engineer position was probably just above the waste management system. "No, Sir. I was fixing the power generator and life support first."

The Neo-Human raised an arm and glanced down at his PCD. A few button-presses later and Burger heard the tell-tale sound of a system diagnostic being pulled up and Commander Ely nodded to himself. "Hmm... Good job, Burger."

"Uh..." the donkey shifted his weight from foot to foot, "thank you?"

The Commander noted, and grabbed the front of Burger's coveralls, "Come with me."

Burger was pulled into the room dedicated to the flight control systems. Once the two were inside the Neo-Human let go of him and motioned around, "Tell me... what do you see?"

Burger let out a sigh covertly; most of the usual system problems for flight controls required an actual diagnostic rather than visual observation. It certainly helped that the young engineer had some familiarity with computer systems too. With everything that could possibly go wrong with the extensive FBW system it was imperative that an engineer consulted the-- the donkey's thoughts came to a screeching halt, "The diagnostic box!"

Commander Ely took a step closer and, in a quiet tone prodded him further, "What about the diagnostic box, Alton?"

The donkey stared at the line leading between the flight system and the ship computer, "It's disconnected!"

The Neo-Human pressed, taking another step closer and lowering his voice. "Shh."

Burger repeated. "It's disconnected."

Commander Ely reached up and pulled the wire down from its place overhead, showing it to the engineer, "Disconnected, you say?"

Burger stood in disbelief as he gazed at the wire in the Commander's grasp; it was cleanly severed, "It's!" he quickly lowered his voice, "It's... been cut."

The Neo-Human pressed him further. "Which means?"

Burger announced, got sick feeling quickly filling the pit of his stomach. "Which means the computer doesn't know how bad the flight systems really are."

The Commander fished even further. "Which means?"

The answer left the Donkey feeling even queasier. "The... the asteroid thing... wasn't an accident?"

"And if it wasn't an accident?"

Alton wheezed out the only possible answer. "...on purpose?'

The Commander nodded. "Sabotage."

"Sabotage?"

Ely reached out to pat Burger on the shoulder, "I'm going to be locking down all key ship systems, Alton... if you're going to be working on anything I want to be there."

The Donkey was taken aback, "You think I--?"

The Neo-Human smiled, one of the few times Burger had ever seen him do so; it made him look even more handsome. "No, I don't. But I don't want you to have to be a variable in this... so everything stays locked unless I'm there to watch over everything... got it?"

The donkey nodded vigorously. "Yes, Commander."

The Commander leaned against the wall, "Good... and, Alton?"

"Hmm?"

Ely rested his hands on his hips again, "Don't talk about this with anyone. I don't want to give whoever's responsible a head start."

Burger's heart rate picked up immediately. "You think it was someone on board?"

The Neo-Human sidestepped answering the question. "I don't want to rule that out just yet, so, for now, we just play it safe."

For some reason, the thought didn't make Burger really FEEL safe.

* * * * * *

It always astounded Dr. Ibrin how susceptible the other races were to low atmospheric conditions. Other than himself, the only other person on their team that didn't require a survival suit was the Xtok-Tik-Klak-Tsn, "Moe". Dr. Ibrin considered the humor of the situation as a human might see it; he was the smallest, least physically capable of the entire team and yet all of them relied on their breathers to keep them from asphyxiating on the planetoid while he was unaffected.

As a Voljoi he was not normally inclined to find humor in such irony, he made it a point to attempt to see things from as many angles as possible; it helped the crew feel more comfortable in his presence, which was a good thing. It was not Dr. Ibrin's fault that the species present had been the focus of his race's biological studies for several centuries, nor could he claim responsibility for the inadvertent deaths, maiming, and psychological trauma that his race's invasive techniques sometimes caused on their subjects. Unfortunately, most other sapients did not subscribe to such logic and so his kind continued to cause unease.

The lack of logic among the other self-aware beings of the universe also manifested in other ways, and, on occasion, at very inconvenient times. While the Voljoi scientist knew the importance of their expedition (likely better than almost anyone else present), he also realized that a survey crew limited to five of its original ten members was not at peak efficiency. It was nobody's fault that four of the team had died in transit, but leaving the team's medic with the shuttle crew meant that future injuries would be that much more dangerous. The fact that his shoulder had not completely recovered further soured his reaction to losing the use of the medic.

As the scientist of the expedition, Dr. Ibrin was tasked with on-site research and initial study of any and all noteworthy variables. When the surveying team departed from the shuttle there was no small amount of objection over what the Voljoi could and couldn't bring, but he insisted that every item was imperative. Dr. Ibrin had already found out first hand how much of an impact losing most of the work crew would cause; he was forced to carry a portion of his own instrumentation; it was pure negligence on behalf of their Overseer-- a learned man should never have to do the work of a laborer... ESPECIALLY a learned man with a shoulder on the mend.

The only remaining worker on the team, a large, shaggy-furred bovine creature had not objected when Dr. Ibrin handed over most of the science equipment but he was forced to balance the laborer's load in conjunction with that of the team's Technician, an intelligent (for a Human) man, Doctor Kyle. Dr. Ibrin licked his chapped, gray lips, berating himself for once-again having to remind himself that Humans used their surname along with their title... and that the man, Kyle LaGraiss was not, despite his learning, a doctor. The Voljoi continued to be astounded that the species' definition of a 'doctor' was so limited.

Dr. Ibrin spoke up, "Tell me again, Mister Kyle LaGriss; if you are not a doctor, what is your official title?"

The weather on the planetoid was cold... very cold, and the Voljoi wrapped his arctic suit further around himself as he glanced to the Human. Since the Human's face was covered with a breathing mask, his voice came from the small transmitter Dr. Ibrin had pinned to the collar of his arctic wear, "I'm a Technician... and it's just Kyle... Kyle's fine."

The Overseer's voice piped in on the transmitter. "Voljoi are official, Boone."

She was talking to Kyle Lagriss, using the monikers system the team had devised. Dr. Ibrin found the issuing of extra names to be an exercise in wasted time, but he humored them, and let them do as they pleased as it didn't harm him. The woman suddenly turned to face him, "Dr Ibrin, call him Technician LaGriss, or just Technician."

Despite the rumors he'd heard regarding the often irrelevant methods of the human female, he had found Overseer Schultz to be a level-headed and reasonable woman. The Voljoi nodded his head to the project lead. "Thank you, Overseer."

The Overseer turned toward the Technician, "Boone, I want a nav reading."

The Human male confirmed simply "Yes, ma'am."

Dr Ibrin watched as he slung a small array of equipment off his back. The Technician began to set it up as the Overseer proceed onward toward him but the Voljoi's attention was drawn away when the Overseer addressed him. "Dr. Ibrin?"

"Yes, Overseer Schultz?"

She was direct and to the point-- two things he appreciated. "I would like you to take some scans of the area... see if the ice here is solid, and find out the composition."

It had been hard at first learning to take orders from a female but, then again, humans did have a strange blending of sexes so he did his best to accomodate their odd roles. He nodded his head obligingly. "I will, of course."

The Overseer then turned to the laborer. "Sherman?"

The shaggy-furred humanoid did not wear the heavy suits shared by the rest of the team, but his long muzzle was covered by a specialized breather made for Geneticons-- Dr Ibrin paused, correcting himself mentally when he realized that term was no longer in use; it was a specialized breather designed for a Gen. Sherman acknowledged her with a single word. "Ma'am?"

"We're going to stop here for a few hours-- set up the MCC."

Sherman nodded. "Ma'am."

The huge bovine began unloading the copious amount of equipment he carried. The Gen was an incredibly large and broad specimen, capable of packing a large amount of weight... as much as a Xtok-Tik-Klak-Tsn, if Dr. Ibrin's estimate was accurate. His idle observations were cut short, however, when he realized the furry, horned pack worker was not as careful with the Voljoi's equipment as was warranted.

Dr. Ibrin immediately took charge of the laborer. "Stop there."

Sherman obediently froze in place. The doctor moved in quickly and reclaimed his items, moving them much more efficiently and with much more care than the large, lumbering laborer could have done. "You may now proceed."

The Human technician moved over to join them once laborer had unloaded his carried packs, "Come on, Sherman... I'll help you get the base set up."

Dr. Ibrin was astounded at how easily Humans forgot directions-- it seemed almost impossible that they could have advanced to space flight with such short memories. "Overseer Schultz directed you to take readings, Technician LaGriss."

The Voljoi wasn't particularly certain what the finger gesture he received from the Gen meant, but he assumed it was not positive. Regardless, the Technician was much more diplomatic in waving away Dr. Ibrin's concern. "That takes two minutes. Besides, Sherman could use another hand with this thing."

The two spaced themselves out on either side of the metal canister and begin inputting commands for it to expand. Dr. Ibrin rolled his eyes, partially in wonder and partially in disbelief that a learned man would take such an interest in manual labor. Granted, the setting up of a Mobile Command Center was essentially pressing buttons and standing back but still, such an activity would have been far beneath any Voljoi Doctor... again, he reminded himself, probably just another reason the Humans were so sparing with the title.

Putting the thoughts out of his mind, Dr. Ibrin got to work on his own duty, doing a quick scan of the area with a hand-held device before setting up his information center. The equipment handled the cold very well and the planetoid did not show signs of having any great amount of precipitation. It took the Voljoi less than three minutes to set up his sensor array; he felt vindicated that he was up and running before the Technician and laborer had finished erecting the command center.

Dr. Ibrin reviewed the instrument read outs as the rest of the group began situating their own equipment within the expanded structure; they would probably start the atmospheric regulator so they could take off their breathers. Although the Voljoi scientist wasn't about to argue against a little warmth and some rest, he was too surprised by the readings that came back to him. Punching away at the control console, Dr. Ibrin was so wrapped up in the readings that he was surprised when their security commander tapped him on the shoulder.

Commander Moe greeted him with direction. "Dr. Ibrin, It is time to come inside and eat. You will do no good hungry and the Overseer--" the rest of the Xtok-Tik-Klak-Tsn's comments were lost to the Voljoi as soon as he started seeing several readings on his scanners go red.

Dr. Ibrin shouted immediately over the Commander, "Turn off the MCC! Tell everyone to put their breathers back on!"

"Doctor..."

the Voljoi didn't have time to convince the Commander the importance of his decree. "Go! NOW!" He ushered the Xtok-Tik-Klak-Tsn back toward the metal structure and began rapidly shutting down his consoles. He had almost completed the task by the time the ground began to rumble.

The Overseer was there in seconds. She had just emerged from the MCC, but her mask was in place. "What's going on, Doctor?" Her gaze left him, however, when several large cracks began to appear in the ground. He elaborated for her. "We are standing over a void, Overseer Schultz. This entire ice shelf is going to collapse."

The Human woman didn't waste any time. She ordered everyone out of the MCC and began loading the equipment back onto Sherman. The Voljoi was not surprised to hear the urgency in her call once she had seen that he was in no great hurry, "Doctor? We need to go!"

Dr. Ibrin turned to face the rest of the team. "We have nowhere to go, Overseer. The void beneath us is too far wide for us to clear by the time the structural integrity of the ice dome gives way. We ARE going to fall."

Technician LaGriss made a perfectly reasonable query, his voice grave. "How long do we have?"

The Voljoi motioned to the dark screens of his computers. "I have already turned off my equipment consoles in the hope that they may survive the fall." The Technician's response was the first time Dr. Ibrin could recall having heard him yell. "GUESS!"

Dr. Ibrin crossed his arms defiantly. "I do not guess."

The Overseer was much more reasonable in her inquiry as she helped the laborer and the Technician pack up the MCC. "Do you have an estimate, Doctor Ibrin?"

The Voljoi knelt down to tighten his boots. "I would say approximately thirty seconds."

Overseer Schultz's reaction was immediate; she turned to address the Technician and the Laborer. "Tighten your masks. Put whatever padding you can around the MCC and the atmo-equalizers... if those go we're screwed."

Sherman acknowledged her simply. "Ma'am."

The Gen immediately began readjusting the equipment. Dr. Ibrin watched on in admiration of the skill and efficiency with which the bovine selected where to put what. The most expendable equipment was placed on last-- the most likely to break and the items that provided the most padding. Smart, the Voljoi thought to himself... and then the ground beneath them gave way.

Despite the droning roar of tons of ice descending into the blackness, Dr. Ibrin could clearly hear the sound of Overseer Schultz and Technician LaGriss scream; he hadn't expected it to be audible but his mind quickly deduced the reason for it: the transmitter stuck to the lapel of his arctic coat. The thin atmosphere meant that his limbs were not splayed by the resistance of much air, and he was easily able to reach over and turn off the transmitter. The fall was not peaceful, but he was relieved that he no longer had to listen to their terror.

The entire thought process and action took all of a few seconds and, mere moments later, Dr. Ibrin collided with the ground and his vision blurred. The Voljoi lay gazing up at the eerie black-blue sky as his body tried to process... anything. He was surprised that there was so little pain... even from his shoulder. He realized he was in shock, but that realization was quickly overtaken by unconsciousness, and the blackness became complete.