Do No Harm Read online

  “Can I have access to the manuals for the equipment?” he asked as he held onto the machine, listening to its gears strain, like a doctor would listen to a patient’s heart.

  Steele didn’t say anything, but he obviously transmitted something to the ship, for diagrams began filling in as overlays on Verne’s vision.

  “The pressures aren’t right,” Verne said. He could see the dials and gauges, and he knew that to be true, but worse, he could hear the machinery, pushing against pressures it wasn’t designed to withstand. Something was going to break, and soon.

  “We know that,” Steele said as his son came to hold onto the hatch. “We’ve checked the filters, but they are fine. It is almost like there is a blockage somewhere, but we can’t figure out where. We need it fixed soon—the air quality is getting bad, and I’m not sure we could go another week through hyperspace. It has to be fixed here.”

  “Yeah,” James added, “and what’s worse, the whole ship smells like shit. We’ve got crewmembers threatening to leave.”

  Once it was pointed out to him, Verne realized the air quality was bad, even for Humans. The oxygen level was lower than normal, and the sulfur levels were higher than what the system schematics said were the nominal values.

  Steele was probably right—there had to be a blockage somewhere. The input pressure was correct, but it didn’t match the expected output pressure. Verne put an arm on the input ducting. It felt right so he began tracing the conduit back along the ducting run. Within a couple of minutes, he had it. The ducting narrowed after several branches joined, and he could feel a whistling from the interior.

  He slid a tentacle out of his rubber suit, closed his eyes, and allowed the specialized appendage to vibrate just so as he reached through the ducting and grabbed the obstruction. He wrapped his tentacle around it, and while still vibrating, he withdrew it.

  “Here you go,” he said, opening his eyes and holding out the mass of yellow fibers. “This was blocking the ducting.”

  Both Humans stared at him, their mouths open and eyes large in what Verne took to be disbelief.

  “Really,” Verne said. “This was blocking the ducting. I have removed it.”

  “Did you see…” James asked.

  “Yeah,” the elder Steele replied. “He reached through the ducting.”

  “Holy shit…”

  Verne pulled himself toward David with an arm and held out the material he was holding. Although it was almost like Human hair, it was much thicker and somewhat rubbery. For Steele’s part, he shied away from Verne’s arm…or maybe it was Verne himself.

  “What?” Verne asked. “You asked me to find the blockage; I have done so.”

  David Steel shook himself and looked at the mass of fibers. “Damn it,” he said. “One of those Fiblets got loose.” He took the fibers from Verne’s arm and pushed toward the hatch. “I’ll be right back,” he said as he went out.

  Verne’s moved back to the ducting to hold onto it, and he could immediately feel the system was still not right. “On second thought,” he said to James, “I do not believe I have entirely solved your issue.” He took a glance at one of the gauges. “No, the pressures are still not right.”

  “Shit,” James said, shaking his head.

  “I do not believe shit to be the source of the problem,” Verne said, “although that would account for the sulfurous smell. It was some sort of fibrous mass. There is probably another blockage.”

  “Yes, there probably is,” James said, “and that’s why I said ‘shit.’ I was afraid of this.”

  “Afraid of what?” Verne asked. “What is this ‘Fiblet?’”

  “It’s a little creature we transported. They’re really cute, like cats, and give off a vibe that makes people content. We weren’t supposed to take them out of containment, but I couldn’t resist. I fell asleep holding it, and it got away. I’ve laid out traps but haven’t recaptured it yet. I figured that was probably what was in the ventilation system, but I was hoping we’d find the animal, not just its fur.” He looked at the floor. “And my father is going to kill me when he finds out I did this.”

  “Well, perhaps we can catch it before your father comes back. There is still a blockage, and perhaps the Fiblet is caught somewhere. If so, I ought to be able to remove it.”

  James looked up with a look of hope on his face. “You think so? That would be great! I knew it had to be a Fiblet—they emit sulfur when they’re scared. I thought it might be trapped somewhere.”

  “I will attempt it,” Verne said, putting two of his arms on the ducting.

  Although clearing the blockage had allowed some air to flow, one of the ducting runs didn’t feel like air was flowing through it. Verne followed it to where it passed through the wall, then through the passageway and into another room.

  “It is here,” he said finally, arriving at a juncture where a smaller run led into the larger one he’d been following.

  “Can you do that weird thing again, where you reach into the piping?” James asked.

  “Yes, if you are quiet.” Verne plunged a tentacle into the ducting. “Hmm…ouch!” he said after moment. He withdrew his tentacle and unrolled it to show a mass of fibers not much bigger than the previous blockage, but this one was moving. “Here you go,” Verne said, handing the Fiblet to James.

  “Shit,” James said again. “That’s not the one that got away. It’s too small.”

  “I expected as much,” Verne said.

  “You did?”

  “Yes. There is a bigger one in the pipe.” He turned over his arm to show a red ring. “It bit me, although it appeared to not like my taste.”

  “Can you capture the mother?”

  “Perhaps,” Verne said after a moment’s consideration. “There is a problem, though,” Verne added when he saw the look of hope return to James’ face.

  “What’s that?”

  “She is too big for me to extract.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Six

  “So, what is it, exactly, you intend to do?” David Steele asked.

  “Uh, what?” Verne asked. James had told his father about the Fiblet problem, but Verne had become distracted after a couple of minutes of the gratuitous verbal abuse David had been giving his son about allowing the Fiblet to escape and get into the ducting. It had been fairly thorough, having covered issues of safety, crew morale—the Fiblets did release sulfurous emanations when they were scared, thus the aroma onboard the ship after the smaller one got trapped—and following orders, among other topics. It was an impressive monologue, worthy of Staff Sergeant Graves, but when he’d begun to repeat himself, Verne had gotten bored.

  “I asked what you planned to do to get the mother Fiblet out of the ducting before it reproduces again and causes the same issue you just fixed.”

  “I intend to go into the ducts and catch the mother. James told me he knows what they like to eat. I will try to bait it and capture it. Alternately, I guess I could find it and reach through the duct and grab it, but then we’d have to cut open the duct to remove it and then fix the ducting again afterward. Going into the duct seemed like the easiest and most efficient method.”

  “If you think you can do it, fine, go ahead and do it. Let me know when you’re finished.” David left with one last glare at James, who looked at the deck. Verne had heard the elder Steele use that word to indicate the floor several times, as well as bulkhead for walls and overhead for the ceiling. Although the speech had grown wearisome, at least the first time through there had been some information included amongst the cursing.

  “Follow me,” James said. “I’ll take you to an access.”

  James led him through a couple of corridors, stopping by the eating area to pick up some food along the way. Although James said the area was a mess, it looked clean and shiny to Verne, and included several small food preparation machines Verne had never seen before. He wanted to stop and see how they worked, but James wouldn’t let him—they needed to catch the F
iblet—and besides, the food processors also hadn’t worked in several months.

  They made it to the ducts, and Verne slid out of his rubber suit and into the duct, holding a morsel of chocolate in his leading arm. Although the duct was small, Verne was able to squeeze himself into it and had stored enough moisture to slide along the metal surface.

  The chase and capture of the Fiblet turned out to be almost too easy, as the Fiblet didn’t recognize Verne as a threat. If anything, she seemed almost as interested in the fishy smell emanating from Verne as she was in the chocolate, which she happily accepted once Verne had lured her in and snagged her with two of his arms.

  He followed the still-damp trail back out of the duct and presented the Fiblet to James. “There you go!” he said as he slid the rubber suit back on. “I will need to go back to my VASPer for a little while to rehydrate, though.”

  “That’s fine,” James said. “I will take this to my father and meet you back at your suit.”

  * * *

  Verne hadn’t made it any further than the mess, though, when James found him again. He’d been unable to walk past the two broken machines without stopping to look at them. Both were fairly easy to fix—wires had come loose in their interiors—and it was nothing more difficult than wiggling one of his tentacles inside and vibrating the wires together at the right frequency to meld them together. The joining was at least as secure as a weld.

  He was just withdrawing his tentacle from the second when James found him. “What are you doing?” James asked. “I told you, those are broken. I just haven’t gotten around to removing them and sending them to the replicator yet.”

  “There’s no need to,” Verne said. “I fixed them both. They are operational again.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Absolutely. Bagels are much better when they’re toasted, and now you can do that again.”

  “He fixed the toaster?” asked a female voice.

  Verne turned around and found three of the ship’s crewmembers standing behind him. “I did.”

  The woman laughed. “James, you need to have your father hire this…this…what are you?” she asked.

  “I am a Wrogul,” Verne said, “but I was raised with Humans and understand you.”

  The woman smiled. “James, you need to have your father hire this Wrogul. That damn toaster’s been broken longer than I’ve been on board this ship.”

  “I’d love nothing more,” James said. “He also fixed the ventilation system.”

  “He did?” a man asked. “I wondered what that smell was. I almost forgot what fresh, non-shitty air smelled like. Jane’s right, you need to hire him.”

  “I think you’re all right,” David Steele said walking into the mess. “I would like nothing more than that. Verne? Are you available for hire?”

  “What?” Verne asked.

  He’d been looking at Steele’s mag boots, which allowed him to move around the ship like Verne did in his VASPer. Watching him walk gave Verne an idea for modifying the VASPer to walk more normally. It might still be awkward, but now he knew what he was doing wrong.

  “I asked if you would be available to hire on as part of the crew. We could use a junior technician in the engine room, and you seem to pick things up quickly. We can’t pay you much—”

  “Can you take me to Karma?” Verne asked, seizing on the one thing that was most important to him. “I want to go and sign up with the Winged Hussars, and they have an office there!”

  “Okay, we’ll take you to Karma…or put you on a ship headed in that direction at the earliest moment possible,” David said. “Until that time, you can work onboard and fix anything mechanical that is broken.”

  “Really?” Verne asked. He’d get to fix things and get to go to Karma? What could be better than that? “That would be the best thing I’ve seen since the sawdust cannon episode on Mythbusters!”

  “The what on what?” David asked.

  “It was an old show I used to watch. Along with How Things Work, they are my favorite Tri-V shows. Of course, they weren’t Tri-V when they were made; they were adapted to it. But that’s awesome! When can I start fixing things?”

  “Right now,” David replied. “James will take you down to engineering and you can get started!”

  “Outstanding!”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Seven

  Verne tried to fix everything he could. Days passed as he went from room to room—or space to space—on the ship, fixing what he could. The Leaf didn’t have an extensive collection of tools, but, happily, Verne had a set of some of his best in one of the storage compartments on the right leg of his VASPer.

  He worked around the clock, and only stopped when the chief engineer made him take a break after he almost fell asleep with a tentacle in the main reduction gearbox of Engine #2. Verne was not sure what would have happened to the machinery—or to his tentacle—had he stopped vibrating, but even Verne decided it would not have been good. So, he went and took a nap in the quarters the Humans had made available to him. It was tiny—no bigger than the broom closet at the Forge—but that was all he really needed.

  He plugged his suit into the environmental system of his VASPer and fell soundly asleep, happier than he had ever been in his life.

  * * *

  He went back to work as soon as he woke up and had just finished fixing the shuttle’s port engine when a note at the bottom of Verne’s vision alerted him to an incoming transmission from Mr. Sanders. He authorized it, and Sanders’ face appeared in a small box.

  “Is everything all right?” the Human asked.

  “Better than all right!” Verne replied. “I’m going to space!”

  “Umm…you’re already in space,” Sanders replied. “We show the ship you’re on is headed for the stargate. Is everything okay?”

  “Yes. It is better than okay, actually. The captain of the ship has offered me a job as a technician aboard the ship, and I have accepted.”

  “So, you’re not being kidnapped?”

  “No, I am going of my own free will. The captain says he will either put me ashore at Karma so I can get a job with a merc company, or he will put me on a ship going toward Karma at the first opportunity. I am following my life’s dream.”

  “Uh, okay,” Sanders replied. “I just wanted to check. Both Overstreet from the Blacksmith Forge and Todd have come by here in the last few hours looking for you, and they both seemed worried about your disappearance.”

  “Oh! In all the excitement, I forgot to tell them I was leaving.”

  “Well, it’s none of my business, but I kind of think you should. If nothing else, you ought to at least give Todd a call. Probably Overstreet, too. Apparently, you have some weapons that just showed up at the shop.”

  “I do? Oh, no—I have no idea how I’m going to get them. Sorry, I have to go.” He terminated the conversation while Sanders was in mid-sentence and pushed off toward the bridge.

  “I need to go back to the planet!” Verne said when he finally found David Steele, who wasn’t on the bridge, but in the mess.

  “Why’s that?” Steele asked around a mouthful of toasted bagel.

  “My weapons—for my VASPer—are here. I can’t be a merc without weapons! We have to go back and get them! I also need my motorized tank!”

  “Sorry—it costs too much to send a shuttle down, and we’d be really close to missing our stargate time. Even if we could, I don’t know if our shuttle would hold a tank.”

  “But…but…I need them! I didn’t know I wouldn’t return to the planet when I came up here. You have to let me get my things! And the tank isn’t that big—it is a fish tank on mechanical treads, not like a Zuul main battle tank.”

  “Hey, Skipper, let him go back,” Terry Collier, the chief engineer said. “It’s the least you can do—he did save you a ton of cash by fixing the ventilation system for free…and catching that stupid Fiblet.”

  “And the port engine of Shuttle One,” Sharon Buck, one of the p
ilots, added.

  “And even the toaster that made the bagel you’re eating,” James said. “He’s saved us a ton of cash. Giving him a quick trip to gather his things is the least we can do.”

  “I also have some special tools and a small fabricator in the Forge,” Verne added. “Those will be helpful in upgrading some of the older equipment in this ship.”

  David held up his hands in surrender. “All right! All right! You got it. One quick trip.” He looked at the pilot. “Sharon, get him down and back ASAP. If we miss the stargate window, I’m taking it out of your pay.”

  The pilot turned to Verne. “You heard the boss; let’s go.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Eight

  Verne called ahead and Overstreet and Todd were waiting at the starport with stacks of his gear.

  “Just get out of the way, and we’ll get this loaded,” Overstreet said as Verne stumbled down the ramp in his VASPer.

  “But I can carry more with the suit!” Verne exclaimed.

  “And then throw it all over the place and break half of it,” Overstreet replied. “No, it’s better if you just stay out of the way and let the pilot and me load it.”

  “I could have fixed anything I broke later,” Verne grumbled as he lurched to where Todd sat in his motorized chair, supervising the loading of Verne’s meager possessions. All the things Verne wanted—really wanted—were his tools from the Forge, his tank, his weapons, and the mini-replicator he had purchased with Todd’s credits.

  “Get out of that thing,” Todd said when Verne reached him. “I want to talk to you, and I don’t want you falling over and crushing me.”

  Verne crawled out of the suit and toward Todd. “I’m getting much better with the suit,” Verne said. “I probably wouldn’t have fallen over. Also, I have some good ideas for programming the suit to walk more naturally—more like how Humans do it.”