Postby Mithrandir » Mon Aug 04, 2003 10:02 am
The Rabbit Hole
By: OldPhilopopher
Part IV:
User defined a AHSU (All Hands Status Update) as a suspension of ongoing tasks and reporting any inconsistencies or unusual occurrences during a shift. Lt. Philips leapt into action. Tapping the light brought up a log of every system status update for the shift. Other than a brief background radiation spike from Ultra Deep Space in the center of Gamma-2749, there was nothing whatsoever on the list. He briefly considered ignoring the data; it was obviously a fluke. He sighed. All information must be reported, he reminded himself. If someone was going to make a decision to act on readings like this, it was their career on the line. He quickly highlighted the sensor logs and attached his badge number to the reporting algorithm. He did not hit the submit button immediately. He was smarter than that. If you submit your log data to quickly, you are usually accused of not sufficiently processing the data. A little bit of idleness goes a long way toward advancing up the chain of command; Philips had made a career out of knowing when to submit status reports. The moments ticked away, and he re-configured his control panel; it was something to do when one needed to pass the time.
The panel was a single sheet of transparent crystal-steel, the images of the buttons projected from below by a laser, which excited the crystal components and created the images; the panel was also touch sensitive. This combination allowed the UWSE to customize the panel to each user, officially because they wanted to make the screens as intuitive as possible. At each shift change, the biorhythms of the replacement personnel were check as soon as they sat down, and the control panel rebuilt to their exacting preferences. Upon leaving, the panel was completely redrawn for each staff member. Philips, however, had long ago realized that he could customize the system himself, and look busy doing it. He knew the system was capable of withstanding a staggering amount of force, and he secretly suspected that the system was also capable of withstanding anything he could spill on it. And right now, he wanted to spill coffee on it. Anxious to be off, he checked the time stamp. It flipped the 5th ITU, and right on schedule his replacement walked through the bridge security sensor security checkpoint.
The security officer on duty checked him in, filing the proper reports and checking for contraband. No one would ever dream of breaking the rules, but it was something he rather enjoyed doing. It gave him the sense that every member aboard was answerable to him. Well, at least everyone but Fleet Admiral Spencer IV. No one in their right mind would question anything he said. He had personally fought in over 100 skirmishes with the Cru’ixa and earned his admiralship from the bottom up. He was a hard-fighting, hard-hearted fighter - one who tolerated no disrespect. It was rare that he was seen on the bridge for more then a few minutes. His normal routine was to wonder around a few times, barking orders to any one near, his voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of people looking for any excuse to get out of his way. But FA Spencer IV was not on the bridge at the moment, and the security guard waved Philips’ replacement through with only a moderately concealed yawn of boredom. Philips stood up and shook his replacements hand, aware that the man was not remotely interested in talking to him.
A minute later, he was heading out the checkpoint and off to the galley for his daily shot of caffeine. He had escaped just in time, he realize as the admiral rounded the corner of the main bridge access way. Philips walked with his head down, apparently in deep concentration. When he judged the distance was appropriate, he looked up with an expression of feigned surprise. Quickly, he snapped to attention and saluted. The admiral scowled and offered only a brief, curt nod as he continued toward the bridge. It was rare to see the Admiral hurry, and Philips was relieved he has spent enough time on his uniform this morning to forgo the usually rebuffing. The bridge door slid shut behine him, and he finally dropped out of attention. He continued on his way, the admiral as well as the status report forgotten. Forgotten, and unsent. It was a mere fluke that the log data was routed to the main office, and Lt. Philips’ replacement was responsible. Distracted by the pretty petty officer next to him, he accidentally dropped a book onto his control panel before being seated. It fell squarely atop the submit button just before he slid into the chair. The sensor reading data responsible for alerting Fleet Admiral Spencer IV to the greatest discovery in the history of Earth was sent to forensics only by dumb luck, and the massive weight of the United World Space Exploration Regulation’s Manual.