The human guards were talking, they were always talking. In the dead of out hours, in the early shift, when they rose, when they sat, when they did anything, they felt the need to announce their presence, as if they could get lost in the shuffling light. It was grating, but they didn't resemble ghouls, didn't sneer and jeer.
The door parted and the human on the other side looked surprised to find him dressed and ready, waiting for them alongside Ayel. Punctuality, apparently, was only loosely expected.
"Our assignment?" Nero demanded evenly as he rose.
"Very well," Nero agreed and looked between them. The woman was nonplussed, the man, perfectly blank. Their best Vulcan impressions, possibly. A moment of silence passed and no one spoke.
They were so strange, so cold. This man seemed far too calm to have done what he'd done. Ayel seemed more edgy, watching she and Paul as if *they* were the threats.
But psychoanalysis wasn't her job. She inclined her head slightly, and took the lead, feet falling automatically into patrol rhythm as she walked towards the elevator.
Augh. The scrape on her hip was burning again. And she really *wished* she'd had time to dry her hair.
Martha winced. "Um, no. I was unexpectedly busy yesterday, and I didn't sleep until late, and I woke late and- I don't mean any disrespect by looking disheveled."
Be aware of their dignity, Dr Noel had said. And also, don't strike up a conversation. But he'd started it, not her, surely that was all right? She could practically feel Paul burning a hole in her back with his stare.
"Actually," she added. "I was delivering a baby in a stuck turbolift." She came to a halt. "This one."
Disrespect? Humans were. Just. Baffling. But silence would cost him. So he made a flat, noncommittal sound--and nearly ended up with a snort of surprise. Delivering a baby.
The nurse's? Or was it someone else? He didn't know, didn't know enough about either of them, shouldn't ask a guard about a pregnant maybe-stranger who might or might not have had a little girl.
Nero stared at her. She wasn't silent, wasn't rude, but wasn't helpful. It was a strange mix that inspired a deep disinterest in him. She was flushed, red and awkward.
"Yes," he answered for Ayel. They needed the information. He had a niggling sensation in the back of his neck and he scratched at it idly. "If you still expect us to fix it."
Martha pulled herself together. Oh, hell. She was going to be lucky to get away with about being written up.
"The lift stalled between floors two and three. It did not return to the base floor, nor did it move to the entrance of two or three, rendering the escape hatches almost unusuable. In addition, efforts to use the comm from inside the lift failed. Construction reports faulty wiring, but Maintenance suspects mechanical fault also."
There. She couldn't wipe out the embarrassment of the last few minutes, but she *could* try professionalism after them.
"Of course there's mechanical fault," Nero returned evenly. If the lift had stalled, there was no chance it was electronic. Only lloann would put emergency hatches in places where they'd ever be unusable.
"Lock down the thrusters," he paused. "It isn't run on cables, is it?" Nohhua fvadta, he wouldn't have been surprised if it was, in this century. At least they weren't Thaessu.
Hard mechanical failure. And there was nothing like a set of spreading cutters in this kit, the one the redshirts had all checked so thoroughly, as if a knife or phaser could somehow spontaneously beam itself into the box.
They had small, underpowered lasers forced to low settings: aluminum, high-density plastic, insulation. Cutting copper would take patience. There were a few manual tools, purposely lightweight and flimsy, and a pair of arm's-length pry-bars that had been the subject of endless discussion and paperwork.
"Hydraulic?" But they'd have reported coolant leakage for that. "It's...it should be electromagnetic." He let out a slow breath. "Captain's right. If the inertial dampers kick off, or on, while we're working..."
He blinked away the thought he was not thinking, the flicker of the grinding, wet, organic catch of stalled vents, far down a narrow access hatch in the dark
( ... )
The door parted and the human on the other side looked surprised to find him dressed and ready, waiting for them alongside Ayel. Punctuality, apparently, was only loosely expected.
"Our assignment?" Nero demanded evenly as he rose.
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"Uh... an elevator stalled yesterday. You're assigned to the repair."
Paul's face was totally bland. He knew, the sneak.
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"Very well," Nero agreed and looked between them. The woman was nonplussed, the man, perfectly blank. Their best Vulcan impressions, possibly. A moment of silence passed and no one spoke.
"Lead the way."
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But psychoanalysis wasn't her job. She inclined her head slightly, and took the lead, feet falling automatically into patrol rhythm as she walked towards the elevator.
Augh. The scrape on her hip was burning again. And she really *wished* she'd had time to dry her hair.
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She'd looked at them strangely. He wondered what the Vulcans had said, what careful logic-puzzle lies they'd fed the station personnel.
He blinked. Her uniform was dry. Her hair was...not.
"Are you sure," it was a low hum, drenched in courtesy, "there's nothing wrong with the fire alarm?"
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Be aware of their dignity, Dr Noel had said. And also, don't strike up a conversation. But he'd started it, not her, surely that was all right? She could practically feel Paul burning a hole in her back with his stare.
"Actually," she added. "I was delivering a baby in a stuck turbolift." She came to a halt. "This one."
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The nurse's? Or was it someone else? He didn't know, didn't know enough about either of them, shouldn't ask a guard about a pregnant maybe-stranger who might or might not have had a little girl.
"I--hope everything went well."
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"I lost some skin getting in there, though," she said daringly. "Ill really appreciate it if you could fix this lift so it doesn't happen again."
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"You were there," he said, nodded. "Can you describe what happened?"
Engineering had probably transmitted specifics by now, of course, but he wanted to hear her take on things first.
And--a daughter? It might be her, might be their nurse. Ayel nodded, kept his expression level. It was too early to show redshirts a smile.
"And I'm glad they're well."
[[ooc: Whee, potential room for misinterpretations!]]
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She felt the blush radiate down her cheeks at Paul's disbelieving stare. "Um, I'm sorry, did you mean, what happened to the lift?"
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"Yes," he answered for Ayel. They needed the information. He had a niggling sensation in the back of his neck and he scratched at it idly. "If you still expect us to fix it."
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"The lift stalled between floors two and three. It did not return to the base floor, nor did it move to the entrance of two or three, rendering the escape hatches almost unusuable. In addition, efforts to use the comm from inside the lift failed. Construction reports faulty wiring, but Maintenance suspects mechanical fault also."
There. She couldn't wipe out the embarrassment of the last few minutes, but she *could* try professionalism after them.
Reply
"Lock down the thrusters," he paused. "It isn't run on cables, is it?" Nohhua fvadta, he wouldn't have been surprised if it was, in this century. At least they weren't Thaessu.
Reply
They had small, underpowered lasers forced to low settings: aluminum, high-density plastic, insulation. Cutting copper would take patience. There were a few manual tools, purposely lightweight and flimsy, and a pair of arm's-length pry-bars that had been the subject of endless discussion and paperwork.
"Hydraulic?" But they'd have reported coolant leakage for that. "It's...it should be electromagnetic." He let out a slow breath. "Captain's right. If the inertial dampers kick off, or on, while we're working..."
He blinked away the thought he was not thinking, the flicker of the grinding, wet, organic catch of stalled vents, far down a narrow access hatch in the dark ( ... )
Reply
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