Literary Challenges : The Library Computer
View Single Post
Join Date: Dec 2007
07-08-2011, 01:59 PM
“Get away from that console you moron!”
Krovan straightened, banging his green hairless head on the thick matte metal of the replicators underside, causing a swarm of stinging fireflies to dance around his tired aching eyes.
The angry footsteps of the Sorno's head engineer vibrated towards him, despite the thick layers of fire retardant foam saturating the deck beneath his heavy booted feet.
Olgan was a violent drunk, the only time he was more vicious was when he was sober, or when his sleep deprived fumbling apprentice managed to foul up the ageing systems aboard the Sorno.
Recovering somewhat, Krovan began to slide out from under the console, rolling out of kicking range of the swaying old Orion, and raised his arms in a placating motion.
“Olgan, look...I only wanted to tune up the ..”
The fire alarm began blaring over the loudspeaker above, distorted and ear wrenching, partly because of the panic in it, partly because the speaker was hanging by its connecting wires, swaying in a slow circle.
Krovan looked up at the speaker, Olgan did as well, although he nearly fell backwards as he did so.
“You took the sealing collar off the speaker to rig the replicators connection plate?” he asked, one bleary eye squinting at the mess of wires overhead.
Krovan nodded, shuffled back a step, the foam on the floor making his footing unsure.
“And cut the fire safety cable by mistake, and set the ships alarms off, coating the entire bleeding scow's interior with this?”
He lifted a foot, shaking the foam off his boots, and then he did fall, flopping down to one knee, and slipped again as he managed to pull himself back up.
“the captain and officers were in the mess...all six of them, they took a double cut of rations from the crew..”
Krovan nodded again nervously, since the replicators went down anyone working below deck one had been eating less, and working more.
“And do the replicator repairs work now?”
His eyes were almost reptilian as they bored unto Krovan's.
“It only makes ice cream...”
Olgan began to laugh then, a big hearty bellow that rang across the Sorno's decks, along it's pitted old plating, through it's sagging ducting, and eventually up it's leaking ancient pipes, to the Officer's mess, only softening when it collided with the half ton of thick liquid foam, and the entombed Officer's within it.