By Research Engineer Orad
80509.15
Just prior to the Sera's arrival in orbit of Stra II
-=Technology Allocation Control Center: 3 miles beneath the surface of Stra II=-
80509.15
Just prior to the Sera's arrival in orbit of Stra II
-=Technology Allocation Control Center: 3 miles beneath the surface of Stra II=-
"Excuse me please, are you my Builder?"
"Can't you shut off its vocal processor?" The tall, reed-like Strasa scientist called Lind snarled. "If I have to hear it ask that question one more time I'm going to rip its tiny head off and dropkick it all the way to the farmlands." She dabbed at her forehead with the back of her hand and glared at the short, round man working beside her.
"I can't even figure out how to access the damned processor." Her colleague, a short, round man named Orad, barked back. "These schematics are all wrong. All wrong!"
He ripped the diagram he held in two. He'd been straining to read it by the dimming light of his wrist-lamp for the better part of an hour, but when he looked at the internal circuitry of the mechanical, nothing aligned with the drawings in the blueprints. It was as though he was looking at a different machine entirely.
"That's because something has been making modifications to its own systems again!" Lind stared at Mim, and Mim lowered his head in shame.
"Modifications increase productivity. Achieving perfect productivity is Mim's occupation." The mechanical responded softly. He next directed his eyes toward Orad. "Excuse me, sir, Do you know where Mim's Builder is?"
"Mim? Who is Mim?" Orad felt beads of sweat soaking his shirt against his skin. The temperature, even in this underground location, had increased exponentially since the power had gone out- with no fans to cool the excess heat from the overloaded equipment, not only did he fear he was going to pass out himself but he worried that even as they tried desperately to fix the malfunctioning maintenance bot, that vital components inside the core of the main computer were likely fusing together, melting into something that would soon be of no value to them at all.
The sound of footfalls approaching drew the attention of both workers. They had been cut off from the outside world as soon as the first power grid had failed- safety protocols firmly in place- who could possibly be coming here?
"Mim is," the mechanical began, but he stopped as suddenly the two people who had been attending him rose and ran to the door.
"Supreme One!" Orad blinked and felt his knees weaken. "However did you,"
"Emergency site to site transport. At least the generators on the Executive level of the Providence Spire are still working!" Resident Overseer Lank, leader of the people of Stra II, folded his arms impatiently. "What is the problem down here? I thought that you had worked out M8's. . .functional issues."
"We had, Supreme One," Lind stepped forward, as Orad gratefully stepped back.
She had ambition enough to want to be the next one to run this whole show, he was happy to let her take the heat for their inability to repair M8, despite all their attempts and the huge amount of their budget allocated to just that purpose. "These problems are not the same ones we have encountered in the,"
"Excuses!" Lank smacked a fist against the nearest computer console. "For five years, all you people have been able to offer me are excuses! Excuses why the designers cannot construct another maintenance bot to take the Mark VIII's place. Reason after reason why you cannot stop the Mark VIII's deterioration, and most of all you have not been able to tell me what would happen if the Mark VIII simply CEASED TO WORK! Well, NOW we KNOW!" The man shouted, nose to nose with Lind.
She sighed deeply, and then shined her wrist lamp directly upward, so that there would be no mistaking the expression on her face.
"Supreme One, with all due respect I would remind you that I only assumed these duties ten days ago, after the thirteenth senior researcher in as many months simply walked out."
Lank flinched. "What about you, Orad? Of all people you should have some idea what makes this thing work, or in this case, not work."
Orad inclined his head slightly toward Mim, and he found himself suddenly doing the unthinkable. He put his hand on the tiny bot's shoulder. "M8, please. Tell me how to repair your malfunction."
Mim rotated his head around, blue eyes shining brightly in the dark as he looked first at the redheaded Lind, then at both Strasa males, whose pitch black hair contrasted so wildly with their amber complexions. He observed that all females of this world seemed to have red hair, and all the males, dark hair.
Why didn't he have hair? Or skin?
"M8, state the nature of your primary malfunction." Lind demanded, as she scanned Mim once again with the Strasa equivalent of a tricorder.
"No." Mim replied, simply and softly.
Everyone in the room, which now included several officers from the Resident Overseer's personal security force, exchanged glances.
"What do you mean, 'no'?" Lind scoffed. "I order you to state the nature of your primary system malfunction!"
"No." Mim rolled backward slowly, holding his pincers out and open. "Mim will not."
"Did that thing just say NO to you?" Lank shouted. The heat was beginning to get to him already, and he felt like he was suffocating. "That's it. If you can't repair it, then rip it apart and then maybe you can figure out how it works and build a replacement."
"That will take months. . ." Orad stammered, "Perhaps even years. . ."
"What do we do in the meantime?" Lank demanded. "So help me if you two do not come up with a plan in the next eighty seconds I will take you out into the public square, tell the people that you are the reason that they have lost their technology and I will let them punish you in whatever manner they see fit!"
Lind and Orad stared at each other. A slow death at the hands of an angry populace was not something that they wanted to entertain the thought of.
"We can bring in every certified power allocation technician we have," Lind blurted. "Put them all to work manually operating the power grids."
"You're not serious!" Orad laughed at the absurdity of the idea. "There is no way that any organic mind, let alone the number of minds it'll take to do M8's job with any sort of efficiency, can coordinate and work together in such a manner! Their humanoid errors will compound and soon they'll be tripping shut off safeties right and left and. . ."
"Have we any other choice?" Overseer Lank asked.
Orad's shoulders sank in defeat. "No."
"Resident Overseer! Resident Overseer!" The largest of Lank's personal guards hulked into the room, holding a small communications device in his hand. "I've just gotten a message from the township supervisor of Reja. They were able to get a distress call out and Starfleet has dispatched a ship! The USS Serendipity will arrive in orbit in less than thirty minutes!"
"If Starfleet engineers begin poking around down here," Lind warned, and both Orad and Lank nodded in agreement.
"They must not find out about the M8. Make one last attempt, and if you cannot repair it, destroy it."
"Destroy Mim?" The tiny mechanical, barely more than half a meter in height, backed up until he reached the farthest wall. His wheels spun, servos whirring in a whine that matched the rising pitch of his vocal processor. "No! Help! Builder!"
"Get it out of here." Lank ordered, and as the security detail moved forward and lifted Mim from the ground, wheels still spinning backward in protest, something inside of Orad twisted.
This was not right.
"Builder!" Mim continued to cry helplessly. "Do not let them!"
"Clean this mess up, or I warn you, it is the end of you both." Lank pointed an accusatory finger toward each researcher as he backed slowly toward the exit. "I'm going to have to pay a visit to this USS Serendipity. We must be cautious. We can avail ourselves of their assistance, perhaps if they can give us enough generators to keep some sort of infrastructure operating until your teams sort this out, we can prevent an all out revolt."
"We will do all we can, Supreme One."
"See that it's enough." Lank warned. He paused in the doorway. "One more thing. You both know that the Tri Tower Medical Complex has its own dedicated, redundant power supplies. Those will have kicked in by now. What is going to happen soon if the hospital is the only place in the city with access to power and water?"
"By the Benevolent Spirits. . ." Lind breathed.
"That's right. If we do not give the populace access to their technologies soon, they will overrun the hospital in an attempt to take what little there is by force. I have already deployed troops to that location and set up a perimeter, but it will not hold if,"
"Understood." Orad replied.
"I will contact you from the Serendipity. Be sure you keep their engineers out of this room and away from M8. Get to work!"
After the group withdrew and the room was once again dark and silent, Orad turned to Lind.
"We're both dead, you know. It's only a matter of time."
-------------------------
Orad
Research Engineer
Technology Allocation Control Center
Beneath the surface of Stra II
Orad
Research Engineer
Technology Allocation Control Center
Beneath the surface of Stra II