Forever Working

Month 7 Day 18

0817 Hours

Della Harris

Della stopped just before her body slammed against her living room door. Yep, it’s locked. Without moving away, she pressed her finger against the id pad. The door slid open. Inside, she sat on the edge of the closest desk. “Told you it was off.”

Nagging Negron walked to Mac’s desk and touched the console. That computer screen lit up, showing squiggles moving randomly, first one highlighted and then another. Occasionally, a squiggle disappeared, but the screen got no less crowded. “What’s this?” Negron demanded.

“How should I know?” She tried to watch the display, but her vision blurred. She closed her eyes.

“What did you tell it to do?”

She opened her eyes. “Nothing!”

“Quiet!” Smythe directed loud enough to get their attention. With a glance toward the bedroom, he lowered his voice more. “Negron, that’s her roommate’s computer.”

Negron compared the serial number on the console to the information on his e-pad. “No, this one is assigned to Harris.”

Smythe’s eyes showed confusion, but Della understood the problem, now. “Originally. When my former roommate left, I switched to the other desk. Didn’t think about it. Is there somebody I should inform about the bed, closet and dresser, too?”

“That explains it,” Smythe told Negron. “It’s not Harris’ problem. Let’s go.”

“I’ll correct the records,” Negron stated. “But the computer is on, no one using it, and I don’t know what it’s doing!” He touched several keys, which set off a loud alarm.

Through that noise, Della somehow heard a grunt, a thud, a 2nd thud, and cursing in a language she didn’t know, but had heard before. She headed for the bedroom.

“Shut it off!” Smythe roared.

“That’s what I was trying to do!” Negron returned.

“I meant the noise! Turn off the noise!”

“Mac, are you okay?” Della knelt to help the redhead get untangled from the bedding on the floor.

Her roommate sat blinking amid the blankets. “You’re home? Did I oversleep?” She cocked her head to one side, her eyes almost closed. “What’s that noise?”

“Your computer. I’m not really here. Negron said I’d left my computer on, but it isn’t. But yours is. He tried to turn it off.”

Mac managed to climb to her feet. “Have to kill that.” The stubborn redhead aimed for the living room. Della followed, ready to catch her if she toppled.

Negron had sat down, was punching more keys while Smythe glowered at him. Despite the apparent uncertainty of her gait, Mac said, “Move,” and slid Negron and chair aside. Slim fingers punched 2 keys, and the alarm died. Mac’s shoulders relaxed and her head slumped forward, red curls hiding her face. “Okay, fewer decibels. Head’s ringing.”

Negron gave Mac a shocked look, her short stature and well-filled pajamas sending conflicting messages. “Don’t leave your computer working!”

“Why?” Mac bent over to punch more keys.

“You aren’t supposed to leave your computer running when you aren’t around,” Negron repeated.

Mac’s head rolled to look at him through long locks of bright red curls. “Says who?”

“Common procedure-“

“If that’s a common procedure, it’s a stupid one. I don’t twiddle my thumbs every time I start a diagnostic on the communications console. There’s other things to check, so I do. Sitting and waiting is a waste of time.”

“You’re the new communications lieutenant,” Negron realized.

After a shocked - or confused - moment, Mac asked, “I’ve been here over 6 months. Where have you been?”

Negron’s mouth thinned. “This isn’t about me. Common procedure is to turn your computer off when you aren’t using it. For instance, before going to bed.”

“Again, that’s stupid. I can’t stay awake 24 hours a day - I have, and got into hot water - but a computer can. So it’s doing the drudge work of my projects while I -“

“You shouldn’t use a Fleet computer for personal projects!”

Since when? “Hold on.” Della jumped at her superior’s voice. I forgot he was here. Mac whirled in surprise, and Smythe took her shoulder to steady her. He stared at the computer specialist. “Negron, what do you do on the computer in your quarters?”

“Well, I - Pretty much like Harris said, emails, magazines, stuff like that.”

“Does that include personal mail from off-ship? Are the magazines from off-ship or the ship’s library?”

Negron faltered. “I see your point, Mr Smythe.”

“I hope so. Because my next question was going to be about the gaming programs I’ve seen advertised in various magazines, the ones that have your name attached to them. Worked on those on your assigned personal computer?”

Negron paled, and his voice was soft when he answered. “Yes, sir.”

“Don’t tell others they can’t do personal projects. Especially if their project is a favor for a superior officer.”

“Well, one of them,” Mac muttered. Smythe’s fingers tightened on her shoulder, and she caught her breath. “That’ll bruise,” Mac breathed, and Smythe hurriedly let go.

“What do you mean, one of your projects?”

Mac gingerly raised her arm to push her hair back. “I already had -“ She stopped when he grabbed her lower arm.

There was a smear on Mac’s palm. “Stand still,” Smythe ordered, and parted her hair carefully. “Not a big gash, but scalp wounds tend to bleed, I believe. How did you cut you head if you were asleep?”

“Probably when she was startled awake and fell out of bed,” Della offered. “She lands with her head near her nightstand, and could have banged against it.”

Smythe stared in concern. “She has a habit of falling out of bed?”

“It happens,” Mac confirmed. She stepped away from Smythe and let her hair hide the injury again. She doesn’t want people to know she has trouble sleeping. “Especially when an alarm goes off.”

Smythe sent a glare at Negron. “Harris, take her to sick bay before you return to duty.”

“It’s nothing.” Mac headed for the bedroom.

“I said go to sick bay!”

Mac stopped, walked back. Gave Smythe a glare as good as any of his. “Mr Smythe, I assume you have never exchanged punches with a Gaelunder, because if you had, you would know how dense our bones are. No damage was done to my skull. It’s far too hard. There’s no blood running down my face, so I’m not bleeding much. In addition, I’m under orders to get my sleep, which won’t happen if I report to sick bay for every bump.” She stopped talking, and confusion overtook her face. “Della, why are you... all... here?”

“Negron... the one who set off your alarm. Kept saying my computer was on. I told him it wasn’t. Mr Smythe came to see we didn’t wake you.”

Mac gave a half-smile to her superior. “Did that work?”

“I never intended to wake anyone!” Negron protested.

Mac faced him. “And yet, here I stand, not asleep! Look, my computer was fine, despite my not sitting and waiting with baited breath. Which I can’t do, because I expect this grunge work to take a week. Roughly.”

Negron stared, aghast at the idea of a computer being unattended that length of time.

Smythe politely asked, “Colleen, please explain what your computer is doing.”

The redhead eyed him uncertainly. Afraid he’s hatched some nefarious plot. I think he’s realized his first impression was wrong. In which case, she’s now misjudging him.

Mac explained. “I slapped together a translator and a decoding program, fed in 2 known examples of Yukosk writing and their English counterparts, tossed in my limited Yukosk vocabulary, and later added the manual you wanted translated, Mr Smythe.”

“You modified programs?” Negron demanded. “You can’t just slap them together!”

Mac gave him a sour look. “True, I didn’t take programming classes at the Academy, but... Computers use a language, right? A non-human language. Something I did learn about. And, those 2 programs - translator and decoding - are quite similar. So merging them was pretty easy.”

“What else is your computer doing?” Smythe asked before Negron could argue. “You mentioned other projects.”

“I was working on them when you added the translation... request,” Mac answered. “Now it saves its work in 3 different files - an Yukoskian / English dictionary, a list of grammar rules for the Yukosk language, and the translation of your tech manual. Right now, there isn’t much else involved. It won’t completely translate your manual, but it will do some of it.”

Smythe stood quietly, absorbed in his thoughts. “You’re consulting with Kolla on words you aren’t sure of?”

“Well, she knows Yukosk better than I do. She’s working on her version of the same projects. Except for the manual translation.”

“I think she’s had that added, too,” Smythe stated. “Different technual, though.”

Negron asked, “Which programs? I imagine TRN102, and maybe DEC315 for decoding?”

Mac hesitated before answering. “I know TRN102, of course, but TRN108 has fewer assumptions that a new language will have some resemblance to Earth languages. Still, 108 works best with spoken language, so I used TRN108b, for written language. And no doubt DEC315 is good, but DEC18 was the standard of its day, and uses the same base language as TRN108b, so they were easier to blend.”

“Code. They use the same code,” Negron corrected absently as he made notes on his pad. “I don’t think you should continue until I-“

Smythe cleared his throat loudly. “How long has your blended code been working on this project? Projects?”

“Since 3 hours after we left Yukosk.”

He blinked, the only indication he was surprised. “It was already working when I gave you the tech chip?”

“Yes. I just added the chip to the mix before I went to bed.”

Negron was suspicious. “It works on its own, around the clock?”

“Not completely. I check on it. Supply an answer, if I can, make suggestions, if I’m not sure. Otherwise, I wouldn’t know what to ask Kolla every night.”

The chilly look Smythe gave Negron would have shut up anyone in regular engineering. “Why set an alarm?”

Mac’s cheeks went pink. “I’m impatient. I don’t want it to sit idle while I sleep just because it’s not sure if it’s found a new verb form... or something. A lot of things it notes as questionable, and keeps going. But if it gets too many unknowns, it can’t go on.”

Who can argue with that? She definitely has a brain, and uses it. Even reaches outside her own field, if needed. I could learn a lot from her.

“Mr Negron, keep an eye on this computer, if you feel you must. Colleen chose good programs, and the results look believable. The computer hasn’t melted, and she checks on it, so don’t mess with it.”

“I’ll just see what’s-“

“No!” Wow. Both at once. I understand why she’s eager to squash that idea. He must really want that tech manual, as fast as he can get it.

“She hasn’t been approved to modify, let alone merge, computer programs!” Negron complained.

Smythe sighed and gave the redhead a calculating look. “Test her,” he finally stated. “See where she stands with her computer skills. Then fill any gaps she has until she can pass that test. She’s due for cross-training. Computers are a good place to start.”

Most of us don’t get cross-trained in computers unless we ask for it. But am I surprised? Mac isn’t like the rest of us, although I think she wants to ‘fit in’.

“Are we done?” Mac stifled a huge yawn. “I didn’t get enough sleep.”

“Since it’s barely 0900 now, I’m not sure how you were asleep when we arrived,” Smythe blurted.

“Falling asleep is easy,” Mac returned. She usually follows that with a muttered, ‘Staying asleep isn’t.’ Glad I don’t have her sleeping problem, whatever it is.

“Good. Test her, Negron. Let me know the results. Sorry we woke you, Colleen. It wasn’t our intention. Let’s go, people.”

Della followed him out as Mac headed for the bedroom. When the door closed behind them, Smythe said, “Harris, go to sick bay, see if someone can look in on her head gash. I assume she’s locked the door again.”

“Yes, sir,” she agreed, and peeled away from the group. A couple jeffries tubes will be more direct than the lift.