Having a Look-See
Posted on Sun 19th Sep, 2021 @ 6:47pm by Chief Petty Officer Larry Kersenboom (Ret.) & Renato Solis
Edited on on Sun 19th Sep, 2021 @ 9:39pm
1,075 words; about a 5 minute read
Mission:
A Good Day to Hunt
Location: The Zodiac
Timeline: MD-6, 1000 hours
The lower levels of the Zodiac were very close to the power relays and plasma distribution centers. As such the climate was warm, but never intended to get so warm anyone would ocmplain. It was the condensation dripping on the walls and polished surfaces which revealed how moist and warm the air was here. Then the miasma sank in, a fetid, stale quality to the air which retained a memory of scents. This evocative bouquet titllated the memory centers of Renato's former life. He saw the noodle hut where Mr. Galleon had so often given him a bowl in exchange for some quick telepathy/therapy. Taking on burdens had worsened his addiction but it was a talent that had paid his bills once upon a time.
The Zodiac intruded into what should be a normal space. Any other Starbase of this size developed communities, sure, and decorations provided variations within a standard deviation, but what those years without Starfleet had wrought was a large mass of people who had taken over. Brown Sector was Rust Brown, or that color blood turns to once it dries.
"The heat is a part of life for these folks, but the solution is the ventilation." Renato walked with Larry along the central corridor, the open area facing the ventilation shaft afforded a stellar view of the interior, albeit looking up.
"See the drips from the pan overflow? It's worst near the top of Section S or what they call "Smallstown" but it comes all the way down here to W. For Whiskeytown, is what the locals say. Moist air and disease transmission is definitely a factor, but these folks won't ask for help, they just sit here and deal. They'd rather suffer than have Starfleet come here, so keep your civilian side smiling, ok?"
Larry peered up into the ventilator shaft and gagged. "Idiots!" he groused. "Of course they're sick. There's toxic mold and God knows what other slime and sludge growing inside this thing. It hasn't been cleaned in decades. It's Starfleet's job to keep this sort of hardware maintained. They're regularly trained in it. Why don't these people want them here?"
Renato felt a stiffness as he heard Larry call them idiots. It was deeper than that, but on the surface, yes it was very foolish. He could explain to Larry, who only meant to bring help.
A stern edge to his words followed, "Run the repair through in your mind. Tell me what would have to come down, which whole panels, what areas roped off for safety. They must be physically scoured or taken off site to be lasered off."
He pointed, and softened his tone for the benefit of open communication. "These tents, and shacks and lean to's are homes. Larry, these people are here because their homes got destroyed and they wound up with nowhere else to go. Where do they go when we uproot them this time? Starfleet abandoned this station and we fended for ourselves. This is getting bad, I agree that something must be done, but how to without uprooting a few dozen families?"
Larry peered at the offending ventilator shaft and its surroundings, his expression a fierce scowl. At last, he sighed. "Yeah, you're right. This entire section of shaft from S to W and all the nearby paneling would have to come out, maybe even part of the deck, too. That's what the Fleet regs would say, anyway. This is a mess. It's going to take me and several buddies in hazmat suits, gloves, and O2 masks to make a dent if we're to do it the right way, safely, without disrupting the folks who live here."
He dug a small PADD and stylus from his back pocket and began making notes. "I'd say at least four of us, fully suited, working with wide-beam hand lasers. And ladders, probably some ropes, a vac or two that's rated for collecting and containing biohazard material. And some air purifiers. It would take at least a couple of weeks, but I think we could do it." He shot Renato a grin. "Too bad we can't bring jetpacks down here."
"No, but gravity boots are in style, I've heard. It would be great if you had friends to help, I can rally the community, see what we can get for your payment, and if anyone can help they'll step up once they realize you aren't asking them to leave. Certainly get some tea for you. There's also the sonic showers in the Commons, stuck to some high-level self-cleaning modes. Power grid insulation is causing comm static; intercoms are down in most wards, and forget comm panels anywhere... you sure this is something you wanna start?"
"Oh, yes," Larry said. "This is what I've been looking for--something meaty that needs to be done. Give me about a week to put a team together. Let me know if anyone down here is certified in environment systems cleaning or HVAC. Might help the community down here to have some buy-in if one of their own is helping fix the problem. If there's no one, no biggie. Meanwhile, I'm gonna need to take some tricorder readings to find out the real extent of the mess. That way, I can plan better so we can cause as little disturbance as possible."
Renato was silently grateful for the altruism being shown. He knew better than to appreciate work before it was done though.
"This is going to take some time, I think you and whatever team forms will be getting to know us quite well. We could use a skilled man like yourself in a job corps down here, get some other stuff fixed up if you can show how and keep the uniforms from coming in. This is a gift you are giving these people. In a year probably less they'd have been forcibly removed, you're helping these people in a really good way. I'm your man if you need anything. Tomorrow... I'll get some fellas and gals to volunteer for you. I can't promise more than lift and carry but theyll be from this community so they'll work as hard as can be.
The gentle thrum of the plasma regulators condensing plasma into solid states filled the air between them. At this moment, and neither of them would realize until much later, the Brown Sector had begun its Renaissance.
-End-
Larry Kersenboom
Renato Solis
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