Kerry recalled the holes in the hull she'd seen, and reserved judgment. "Are you part of the ship's staff?" She asked politely.
"I am. I'm Tally Johnson, and I'm the captain's personal assistant. And you are...?"
"Kerry Stuart. From ILS. Do you have a few minutes to show me those bones you mentioned?"
The man positively beamed. "I sure do. You're the computer people, right? We heard we were going to get computers." He started leading Kerry further inside the ship. "The captain's not so sure about that, but I heard we're even going to be able to get email. Is that true?"
Well, having a few friends in middling places was a good thing. Kerry decided she liked perky Mr. Johnson. "That's a very good possibility, yes. We're planning on a satellite, and a new charging system, maybe even VOIP telephones."
Tally laughed. "Okay, you just went past me, Ms. Stuart."
"Kerry, please." Kerry gave him a charming smile. "Nah, it's not that bad, just phones that run over the computer network. You don't have anything like that now, right?"
"No way. We've got manual cash registers, and one old PC the purser used to use to make up the pax folios."
Kerry chuckled. "Now you just went past me," she said. "What's a purser, and what's a pax?"
Tally led her into another, smaller hallway with stairs going up and down. The destruction did seem to be less. Tally headed for the stairs holding his hand out to her. "The purser is the fellow who handles all the money, and the pax are the passengers. C'mon, let me show you the old lady from the bottom up."
Kerry followed him, avoiding the railing and its thick coating of dust, and glad of her jeans and sturdy boots in negotiating the torn up carpet and broken steps. As they went down, the sounds of work, hammering, and banging increased and she had the sudden sensation of descending abruptly into another world.
THE FOREMAN CHECKED off names at the gangway, glancing briefly at each worker as they came up to his desk. He eyed the next to last of them, a big guy wearing a sleeveless sweatshirt and very worn jeans. "Next?"
The man ambled up and presented a set of papers.
The foreman scanned them. "General work." He read. "You got a seaman's card?" He looked at the one presented and nodded. "Service?"
"Navy."
"What'd you do?"
"Little a' every damn thing."
The foreman looked closely at the putative worker noting the scars and the air of definitive but understated competence. "All right, Roberts. Just give this to the guy at the ramp, and have at it. Contract's as long as the tubs are here. Understand?"
"Yeap."
The foreman scribbled a note on a card and handed it over. "Here." He fiddled with his pencil as the newcomer walked away and turned to the man sitting next to him. "Can't believe some of the guys they're passing through the security check, can you?"
The other man shook his head. "Want me to double check that one? I can have Alberto rerun him."
"Nah." The foreman made a rude hand gesture. "As long as he works, I don't give a crap. We've had worse on the docks, and at least this guy showers."
"And speaks English." The second man pointed out.
The foreman snorted as he waved forward the last applicant. "Yeah. Probably make him a supervisor just for that."
DAR PROPPED HER laptop up a little more comfortably against her knee, and typed in another command. She was flat on her back underneath one of the racks, a pale blue cable extending from the jungle of equipment to the back of her machine.
The floor was cold against her skin, but she'd found a relatively all right piece of metal to rest her head against and at least for now, the odd position wasn't interfering with her ability to concentrate.
"Ms. Roberts?"
The techs, on the other hand... "Yeees?" Dar rumbled.
"Um, can I run a cable out here for you? That looks really awkward."
Dar wiggled one foot. "What does, my typing style?"
"Well, the floor, ma'am. Can't really be comfortable, huh?"
Dar typed in another command and reviewed its effect. She scowled and reversed it, tapping the enter key with unnecessary force. "Have you ever tried it?" She glanced quickly at him, before returning her attention to her task. "Lying on the floor?"
There was a moment's silence then a squeak as the tech moved in his leather chair. "Uh...well, sure...we have to do that all the time under there. That's why I said we'd...um..." He cleared his throat. "Ma'am, it's uncomfortable."
"Well, I like it." Dar informed him. "It's good for your back."
"It is?"
"Sure." Dar tried to ignore the annoying object between her shoulder blades that she suspected was a screw removed from the rack and never replaced--a pet peeve of hers. "Better than my waterbed as a matter of fact."
The two techs moved around causing more squeaks. The younger of the two, blond crew cut Dave, leaned his elbows on his knees and gazed over at Dar. "You like waterbeds? I tried one once, but it moved too much for me. I got sick."
"I have a semi-waveless." Dar answered, distracted as a readout gave her an answer she hadn?t expected. She switched to another screen and checked a monitor she had running, then frowned again and tried something else. "Damn it."
"Is that one that don't move, ma'am?" Dave said. "At all?"
"Not really." Dar muttered, biting off a grimace as she mistyped a command and had to redo it. "Depends on what you're doing in it."
It took a few seconds for the utter silence to penetrate her concentration. Then Dar turned her head to see two shocked faces looking back at her, jaws hanging. She took a moment to review her words, grinned. "Too much information, huh?"
Both techs nodded. "No offense, Ms. Roberts." Dave managed to get out.
"None taken." Dar replied graciously. "Didn't mean to freak you out."
They left her in peace for a while, shuffling and squeaking just out of her vision behind the racks, and she took advantage of it to continue the slow process she'd started two hours prior.
She set the monitor running again and tried a new command setting a complicated algorithm on one of their outside interfaces. The device accepted it, and then began processing traffic with the instruction, causing her other screen to start spiking wildly. "Hmm."
"Ma'am?"
"Not you." Dar typed a note to herself on yet another screen she had open, and then she went back to the device and removed the command. "Just something I'm doing."
"Uh. It's not like you freaked us out or anything."
Dar stopped typing in mid motion, and turned her head again. "No?"
Dave had scooted his chair over a little toward her. "No, I mean-- you're really cool and all. We figured that out the last week or so."
"Thanks." A low beep interrupted this enlightening conversation. "Excuse me." Dar pulled out her PDA and glanced at the screen. "Ah, heh."
Hey sweetie. Bet you'll never guess where I am!
Dar pulled out her stylus and scribbled a reply. Can you toplying under a router rack being grilled about our waterbedactivities by the ops staff? She hit send, and then waited patiently until she saw the light stutter on.
Uh...no. Not by a long shot. How did that happen?
Dar tapped. Eh, good question. Got myself into it somehow.Anyway, where are you? Thought you were going to the ship?
I'm in the morgue.
Dar stopped, blinked, and put her PDA down, pulling out her cell phone instead. She speed dialed Kerry's number and kicked impatiently at the corner of the rack until the line was answered. "WHAT?"
Her partner delicately cleared her throat before answering. "Hi, honey."