he ran out of the closet.
I turned to the rack and took a quick look at the layout in the cage. I found the releases and started pulling them. Some were pretty hot, but I had the cage cleared and even released it from its slides and shook out the residue as best I could. It looked pretty clean except for the scorch marks around three of the sockets and along the upper rails. I was just locking it back down when Mister von Ickles came in with a pile of cards in static-proof envelopes stacked like firewood in his arms. He thrust them at me and slid under the case again.
“Gimme that one right on top, please,” he said, and I handed him the card. He had a belt knife that made short work of the protective covers and he mounted it in the middle of the cage. “Nice work clearing away,” he muttered as he seated the card and clipped the latch down. “Next card.”
I handed him card, after card, after card. Each one he clipped in with precision and efficiency. Slice, position, mount, seat, clip, next. We went through the pile so fast I barely had time to get a grip on one before he called for the next. He reached back, plugged in the power cord, and locked it down. With a nod of his head we grabbed our respective sides and slid the rack back into the bulkhead.
“One down,” he said. “See if there are any more.”
We found four more cabinets with damaged cards but nothing as extensive as the first. It took less than half a stan to go through the whole closet and we were pretty confident nothing else was toasted. We backed out and he pointed to a big green button mounted just inside the door with the word reset on it. “You want to do the honors?” he asked.
“Do we need to take the portable down first?”
He shook his head. “The ship’s system will detect it. It’ll be fine.”
I shrugged and pressed the green button hard.
“Not that one!” Mr. von Ickles yelled.
I jumped about a foot but the button had already lit and glowed green. I could hear the fans powering up in the closet. I looked at him and I’m sure my expression was just as bad as I felt.
“You’re fine, sorry. I was just trying to lighten things up,” he said with a grin and we both started laughing. “Come on, let’s go see how the folks upstairs are doing.”
We returned to the bridge and I could see that things had calmed down. The network displays were all up, and only a couple had blinking red highlights.
“Report, Mr. von Ickles,” the captain said.
“Systems Main operational, Captain. There was some serious burning in the network bus cabinet. Best hypothesis is the EMP started a cascade and the network took it the hardest.”
“I thought we were hardened against that occurrence, Mr. von Ickles,” she said.
“We are but it happened anyway. Either the hardening isn’t as hard as we thought, or the EMP was stronger than the rated specs.”
“ShipNet status?” she asked.
“Cabinet is hot. Net should be live, but I haven’t had a chance to inventory the systems. We may yet find some surprises.”
“Carry on, Mr. von Ickles.”
“Aye, Captain.”
We stepped back to where my portable was taped to the console. I could see in the status display for the ShipNet software that a lot more nodes were up and the main system had taken the load. Almost nothing was being routed through the portable anymore.
I turned to Mr. von Ickles and asked, “Do you want to keep this up here until the repairs are completed, sar?”
He looked at it and then at me. “Actually, I’d feel safer if we shut it down and stowed it in a grounded locker. Say, one in engineering berthing.” He raised his eyebrow at me to see if I understood his message.
“In case that wasn’t the only stray EMP, sar?”
“Exactly so, Mr. Wang. Exactly so.”
I shut down the portable, removed the program cube, and peeled it off the counter. I tried to hand the cube to Mr. von Ickles but he said, “Why don’t you store that with the portable? Just in
I turned to the rack and took a quick look at the layout in the cage. I found the releases and started pulling them. Some were pretty hot, but I had the cage cleared and even released it from its slides and shook out the residue as best I could. It looked pretty clean except for the scorch marks around three of the sockets and along the upper rails. I was just locking it back down when Mister von Ickles came in with a pile of cards in static-proof envelopes stacked like firewood in his arms. He thrust them at me and slid under the case again.
“Gimme that one right on top, please,” he said, and I handed him the card. He had a belt knife that made short work of the protective covers and he mounted it in the middle of the cage. “Nice work clearing away,” he muttered as he seated the card and clipped the latch down. “Next card.”
I handed him card, after card, after card. Each one he clipped in with precision and efficiency. Slice, position, mount, seat, clip, next. We went through the pile so fast I barely had time to get a grip on one before he called for the next. He reached back, plugged in the power cord, and locked it down. With a nod of his head we grabbed our respective sides and slid the rack back into the bulkhead.
“One down,” he said. “See if there are any more.”
We found four more cabinets with damaged cards but nothing as extensive as the first. It took less than half a stan to go through the whole closet and we were pretty confident nothing else was toasted. We backed out and he pointed to a big green button mounted just inside the door with the word reset on it. “You want to do the honors?” he asked.
“Do we need to take the portable down first?”
He shook his head. “The ship’s system will detect it. It’ll be fine.”
I shrugged and pressed the green button hard.
“Not that one!” Mr. von Ickles yelled.
I jumped about a foot but the button had already lit and glowed green. I could hear the fans powering up in the closet. I looked at him and I’m sure my expression was just as bad as I felt.
“You’re fine, sorry. I was just trying to lighten things up,” he said with a grin and we both started laughing. “Come on, let’s go see how the folks upstairs are doing.”
We returned to the bridge and I could see that things had calmed down. The network displays were all up, and only a couple had blinking red highlights.
“Report, Mr. von Ickles,” the captain said.
“Systems Main operational, Captain. There was some serious burning in the network bus cabinet. Best hypothesis is the EMP started a cascade and the network took it the hardest.”
“I thought we were hardened against that occurrence, Mr. von Ickles,” she said.
“We are but it happened anyway. Either the hardening isn’t as hard as we thought, or the EMP was stronger than the rated specs.”
“ShipNet status?” she asked.
“Cabinet is hot. Net should be live, but I haven’t had a chance to inventory the systems. We may yet find some surprises.”
“Carry on, Mr. von Ickles.”
“Aye, Captain.”
We stepped back to where my portable was taped to the console. I could see in the status display for the ShipNet software that a lot more nodes were up and the main system had taken the load. Almost nothing was being routed through the portable anymore.
I turned to Mr. von Ickles and asked, “Do you want to keep this up here until the repairs are completed, sar?”
He looked at it and then at me. “Actually, I’d feel safer if we shut it down and stowed it in a grounded locker. Say, one in engineering berthing.” He raised his eyebrow at me to see if I understood his message.
“In case that wasn’t the only stray EMP, sar?”
“Exactly so, Mr. Wang. Exactly so.”
I shut down the portable, removed the program cube, and peeled it off the counter. I tried to hand the cube to Mr. von Ickles but he said, “Why don’t you store that with the portable? Just in
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