The Engineer

Short story involving a character I'm developing: Báirbre Coen

She never slept with her arm.

It was too heavy, and the heat it gave off made it impossible to sleep. It was comforting, in a way, to sleep fully on her side without something making it awkward. In another way, it was always a reminder of what she had lost.

She reached over to the shelf along the wall and turned on the light, shining a dim light into her metallic room. She sat up and cast her eyes about, examining the space she called her own.

Her bed was situated in a corner of the room, small with only a single sheet and blanket. At the foot of the bed was a metal closet, situated right in front of the hatch that would lead to the deck. The wall opposite her had two selves carved into it, allowing her to keep some items by her bedside. Her alarm, a glass of water and a small plant occupied the lower shelf. The alarm had not gone off, telling her she had some time to ready herself for the day.

She always felt better when she wasn't woke up by that damned ringing.

On the shelf above held the one thing she needed more than anything else: her right arm.

It was a metallic piece, approximately the same length as her regular arm. It was locked into a port in the wall, drawing power directly from the reactor to charge it. With the flick of a switch, the arm was released from the wall and a green light glowed from the elbow, signifying it was fully charged. She picked the arm up, feeling all 45 pounds of rigid metal in her left hand, and began to lift. It was her daily exercise, to lift this arm 50 times. After that, she would begin her push ups, sit ups and her kata.

She preferred to keep fit, even though most with cybernetic limbs did not. They became over-reliant on those metal things, used them more than their own. She knew what it was like to be too reliant on something. Her right arm had been her dominant arm, and the loss of it had crippled her in more than body.

On the wall across from her bed was a table with another plant and a pad for her to work. The wall was painted with a sunset, one she had spent many hours on. It was from a photo she had taken once on Hyperion, long ago when she had been a child. It was her favorite part of her room, the beautiful red, green and blue was dulled now, but when she wanted the painting would cast off a light, one for each color of paint. It would illuminate the room completely, yet leave enough shadow for her comfort.

When you spent endless hours in heat and darkness, light eventually began to hurt.

Before her alarm had gone off, the pad on her desk emitted a tone. She sighed, dropping her arm to the bed before her exercise was complete (45 times) and rose from her bed. She walked over to her closet and withdrew a black tank top to wear before sitting down at her desk and pressing the call button.

"Hello? Mary?"

"Barb," she let out a groan as the image came into view, clouding her sight with light, "Did I wake you?"

"Almost," she answered, "I haven't even armed myself yet."

She earned a light chuckle for that, and after she asked, "What do you need, Mary?"

Mary Reed was a giant of a woman. Standing at 6 feet 2 inches, dwarfing Báirbre's own meager 5 feet 3 inches, she was a blonde woman with blue eyes. In another world, she would be a beauty queen. In this one, she was her second in command of the engine room, where they would both toil should the need arise, and on an old ship like this, the need often did.

"There's a problem with the compressor coils in engine two. Captain says we can't stop yet, so we need someone who can reach it safely."

Báirbre let out a breath, "Alright, Mary. Only cause it's you. Why can't we stop?"

"If it's not something that'll blow the ship up, we gotta keep going to meet our mark on time," Mary explained, "Captain's up in arms on this one. Boggs and Jet are getting ready for a drop mission. They're supposed to deploy the minute they're in range."

"Blockade running?"

"The life of a privateer," Mary answered.

"Alright," Báirbre ran a hand through her hair, "I'll be up soon as I'm dressed."

She showered and put on a pair of black pants, a green short sleeved shirt and a pair of engineer's boots before turning to the last piece of her ensemble. All of her shirts were designed without sleeves for her right arm, all so she could attach her metal piece.

She picked the arm up, measuring the weight for a moment before lifting it up to her shoulder. She had been outfitted with a metallic slot in her shoulder to link up to the arm, and when she fitted the thread of her arm into the shoulder, the two pieces sensed each other and automatically began to thread together. She felt her arm begin to warm against her skin as she held it firm, her face stony as she allowed the arm to take hold.

The arm threaded itself to her shoulder flawlessly, clicking into place and locking up for a moment before loosening and allowing Báirbre the ability to control it. She looked at the joint of her elbow on the arm, finding a green light steady glowing, letting her know the arm was fully charged. She flexed her arm for a moment, twisting it around and making a fist before deciding her arm was secure.

She grabbed her necklace off the desk (a Celtic harp engraved with her home world, Erin) and headed out. She climbed the ladders and marched along the metallic passageways of the ship, quickly reaching the engine room. There were three engines on the small, yet powerful Ulysses-class ship 'Jizo.' Named after the Japanese deity whose purpose was to guide the damned through Hell and potentially shorten their stay, it was a fitting title for a privateer ship that fought to liberate their quadrant from an occupying invader.

"Which engine was it?" Báirbre asked Mary as she stepped into the room.

"Two," Mary repeated, "The coil started overheating and we experienced a 22% loss of power. It needs to be replaced, but since we can't stop, someone who can take the heat needs to do it."

The compressor coils for engines one and two were situated behind several pipes that siphoned off extra heat and converted it into energy for other functions within the ship. Removing the pipes was too dangerous while the ship was in motion, as all the heat would quickly lead to overheating of the engine room and several components. There was just enough space between the pipes for an arm to reach back and remove the coil, but with the massive amounts of heat, it was too dangerous for anyone to try.

Anyone except Báirbre, that was.

"Socket wrench," she instructed.

"Chief," one of her crew tossed it to her as she moved into the narrow hallway where the coil was housed.

She removed the panel on the bulkhead, exposing the two pipes to her sight. She held the wrench in her left hand and lifted her right arm. With a mental command, lights on her fingertips lit up, exposing the coil to her sight.

"There's some scorching on the right side of the coil, " she told Mary, "Looks like it blew during the night."

"Got your replacement here, Chief," another crewmen set it to her side, but Mary picked it up to have it ready for her.

"Inform the Captain there'll be a sudden loss of power," Báirbre said, "He'll have to adjust course to compensate."

She turned to Mary, "How long till the engine backloops?"

"About 45 seconds, maybe a minute. The loss of power means there's less pressure, so you'll have some time."

"Not much," Báirbre muttered, "Alright, put a light on it."

Báirbre gasped the socket wrench in her right hand and gently slid it into the space between the two pipes. Even with the steadiness her metallic limb gave her, she could see her arm graze the lower pipe, scarring the metal slightly as it burned. A flesh arm would have suffered 3rd degree burns by that point.

Her side was only a few inches away from the pipes before the socket wrench found its first mark. The coil was approximately .3 meters in length and .07 meters in width, leaving some room for error should she wish to recover the part. She doubted she would, but it was nice to know the option was available.

With the lights from her fingertips and the light from Mary, she was able to easily untwist the part, though she used her hand to keep in place so she could have the most time as possible. She grasped the part in her hand and glanced to Mary.

"Get ready," she said.

Mary pressed a button on the wall, "Captain, standby for adjustment."

"Three...two...one."

Báirbre acted fast, ripping the part away from the wall and dropping it to the ground. Mary handed her the replacement and Báirbre shoved it in fast, searing her arm in several places. With a practiced ease that was a testament to her experience as a mechanic, she used her hand to socket the piece into place.

"35 seconds," Mary advised.

"S**t," Báirbre whispered.

After what felt like an eternity, Báirbre had the piece in place. The coil began to hum as she removed her arm, throbbing in a building tempo until settling in a constant sound that made the chief mechanic smile.

"We have tone," Báirbre declared, turning to Mary, "Inform the Captain, but advise to prepare for power fluctuations. What was my time?"

"48 seconds," Mary smiled, "Not bad."

"Pathetic," Báirbre folded her arm, but with a small smile, "I used to be able to do it in 30."

Mary laughed while Báirbre turned and faced down the passageway, her right side to the pipes.

"Give me a status update on-"

A gust of hot air hit her like a blast, hard enough to send her reeling into the bulkhead. She felt pain along the left side of her head and her vision swam for a moment, making her wonder if she was underwater. The sound of a straining engine filled her head though, and it was enough to bring her out of it.

"SHUT IT DOWN!!" Báirbre shouted, "SHUT THE BLOODY THING DOWN!!!!"

She rose to her feet shakily, her vision still swimming. She clung to the wall with her left arm and tried to move her right. She felt a strange sensation in her movement: it felt choppy, sluggish even, not at all the efficient movement she was familiar with. She glanced down at her arm and discover several large pieces of metal embedded in the metal, damaging it to a point where the arm barely moved.

A loud whistle echoed out in the passageway, and Mary pressed the button.

"Report!" the voice of the Captain echoed out in the hall.

"The compressor coil suffered a backloop!" Mary stated, "We're shutting it down to prevent complete engine loss."

"Damn it," the Captain said, "Very well. Casualties?"

"Barb's arm," Mary chuckled, turning to look at her chief, "She was right there when...it..."

Báirbre shot her a strange look. Mary was staring at her, but not at her face. She followed her gaze and noted that she hadn't felt the pressure until she'd actually seen it. Not had she felt the trickle of blood flowing down her stomach, draining through the wound a piece of shrapnel had embedded into her skin.

"Captain," Mary said, very calmly, "Have a medic sent to engineering. Barb's been hit."

She stepped away from the bulkhead and moved for Báirbre, who was leaning against the bulkhead for support. Perhaps it was the shock, but she couldn't feel any pain, nor the loss of blood.

"Lay down," Mary advised.

"Not a chance," Báirbre said, "What's the status on the engine?"

Mary shot her a dark look before stepping further down towards the front, finding a readout for the second engine.

"Successful shutdown," Mary read off the screen, "29% backloop from the coil, initial analysis shows 15% damage to the engine. Definitely recoverable."

She turned back to her chief, "We got lucky, Barb-"

Mary stopped in her affirmation. The woman in question lay on the ground, a pool of blood steadily growing beneath her. She was pale and her breath was weak, barely even noticeable to her in the dim light.

"Barb!" Mary crouched down beside her, grabbing her hand, "C'mon Barb, stay with me."

For the woman in question, her vision was getting even worse. Still, somewhat strangely in her mind, there was no pain at all, even when she'd hit the floor. She felt a strong desire to fall asleep, and was not compelled at all to deny it.

She closed her eyes.

The next time she opened them, she was lying in a white bed in a white room. It was too bright for her, so she had to blink a lot to adjust. Everything was sterile, smelt sterile.

It was a room she was familiar with.

"Sickbay?" she whispered.

"Yes," a harsh voice spoke.

She glanced to her right. There, with his arms folded revealing every muscle he had, sat her Captain. Itachi Hanso commanded the Jizo, and was an excellent Captain...even though he still thought he was on a naval vessel.

He was a tall, thin man with a black beard and short hair. He wore black combat pants and a red shirt with a dragon soaring on the chest. He had on a black Greek sailor's hat which he often used to hide his face, and he did so now.

That was never a good sign. It meant he was upset.

"Captain," Báirbre greeted him.

"Chief," he replied, "Your number 2 gave me a report on what happened. It was my fault, asking so much of your department. I'm very sorry."

"F**k off."

Itachi lifted his eyes to meet hers, his face a mask of anger. It was nothing compared to her own features. The darkest of shadows had descended over her eyes. She looked at him with nothing but contempt.

"I was an engineer for 12 years before we were occupied," Báirbre reminded him, "I've been Chief Engineer for this ship since day one. You think I can't handle my job? Think I can't handle the dangers? Go f**k off, Captain. I deserve more respect than that."

The Captain stared at her for a long moment, long enough to make her worry about her actions. In the end, though, she stood by them. She was a professional, damn it, not some doe eyed b***h right off the port. She knew the risks.

Still, her Captain was not one to take insults well. In fact, the last person who'd disobeyed an order had been forced into a spacesuit and tethered to the ship while it was preparing to break atmosphere. That man hadn't had an independent thought since.

But she was Báirbre Coen from Erin. She was better than that.

The Captain finally stood up. For a moment, she was sincerely concerned she was about to be shot for insubordination.

"I hope you return to duty soon," Itachi whispered, "Look to your left."

With that strange remark, the Captain turned and marched outside, the door slamming behind him. Báirbre winced from the noise, but wasn't concerned. The Captain tended to be moody occasionally, but he could always lock it down when it was necessary.

She glanced to her right and felt an involuntary smile grace her features. There was a monitor on the table there, showing her room and the painting that illuminated it.

"Lights off," she whispered.

As darkness descended and she felt sleep pressing on her again, she gazed at her favorite painting in the verse. She felt comfortable, at peace even.

In the dim light, she could see her damaged arm on the table. It was burnt in many places and there were metal shards jutting from it, a testament to her ordeal. She stared at it, lost in thought and memory.

She smiled once more, yawning as she looked back at the painting.

She never slept with her arm. It was hot, clunky and just uncomfortable.

But today, it had probably saved her life.

Author's Note

I'm hardly a mechanical engineer, so I just made some things up.

Reviews

[richieb]

First, I am impressed with your creativity on the mechanical descriptions in your story. If you made them up, you were able to sell them. Your main character, Ba'irbre Coen, has plenty of guts and personality. Her mechanical arm will lend itself well during your story. Good descriptions of other characters and good action scenes. Looking forward to reading more. Richie.

[Jesse W.]

Thank you for the review. I'm glad you enjoyed the story and the character

[Emily]

Very nice story!!
I loved it!
Keep it up!!

[Jesse W.]

Thank you Emily! :)