Queen & Commander (Book One of the Hive Queen Saga)

Chapter Twenty-Five: Deus Ex Engineer

Alan stumbled through the door to the engine room, balancing his miniaturized Alcubierre tensor jet drive in one hand. The drive wouldn’t do any good if he dropped it, but it wouldn’t do any good in the corridor either.

When this is over, I’ll look into voice activating the doors in case of emergency.

Ah, good. Gavin was already there, munching on a Tribute. Gavin was above average in intelligence. Though not in Alan’s class, he was capable of helping him hook up the drive. “Good, you’re here. We’re going to add an outsystem drive.”

Gavin loped over and took Alan’s baby from his hands.

“Careful!”

With a worryingly casual shrug, Gavin put the delicate machinery down on a table with no respect for its importance. “This ship doesn’t have space for an outsystem drive. You can’t fit a mature maple in a dwarf-apple plant box.”

Alan tilted his head down and scratched at the bridge of his nose, holding back the words he wanted to say: Let’s try this again, idiot. He pointed to the mass of machinery he’d brought along. “Our illustrious Queen and Commander has ordered us to make that work. It’s an experimental tensor jet drive. Don’t think you can take credit for it with the Science and Technology Eisteddfod Medal committee. That’s my personal project, and you’re only getting to see it because Rhiannon commands it.”

Gavin wore an obnoxious, indulgent smile, and Alan realized he might have gotten a little off topic. The smile washed away, replaced by a slight opening of the mouth that showed off pearly teeth. “Is she serious?”

Alan thought about calling on deities for help explaining. Our Queen wants us to set up this thing was all Gavin needed to know. It was a simple concept. But Gavin deserved a little more respect than that. After all, while Alan had been oh-so-busy hiding in his cabin, too far away from home to cope with strangers and Llewellyn, Gavin had solved the oxygen crisis. And they’d both managed to break out of jail, even if Alan’s situation had been much more complicated.

So instead of making his usual show of no confidence, he smiled through bitten cheeks and shook his head. Oh those silly non-engineers. “Isn’t it always the way? If you need a miracle,” he started the old engineroom saying.

Together they finished it: “You call an engineer!”

Alan nodded. “Right. So, let’s get to work.”

First they diverted all power away from the planetary and in-system drives. They didn’t have the man-hours to get everything working in concert. Either they’d fly by tensor jet, or they’d be driftwood.

As he spliced and hooked, Alan found himself humming “Men of Harlech” again. Foes on every side assailing / Forward press with heart unfailing. Since his first escape attempt, he’d had it stuck in his head. All his lab partners at university had groused that he sang while he worked, so maybe it wasn’t such a strange phenomenon.

He fiddled with the casing to the drive power box, humming away. For a moment, he faltered when he realized the harmony lines weren’t only in his head.

The placid sky / Now bright on high. Gavin had joined in from where he was disabling all automatic calls on the shut-down drives. The ship’s Handsman sung an enviably warm baritone.

Gavin didn’t even notice his pause, just kept singing and clipping. “Finished! What’s next, boss?”

Alan felt a pang of nostalgia for the university and all those older students who insisted on leading group projects. If only they could see him now. See? Plenty of people submit to the wills of those who know better. This new faith in his knowledge was gratifying. I got a better Hive than all those morons.

“Start thinking about fuel,” he ordered, attention focused on the operation in front of him. “You probably won’t think of anything, but I’ll come help you after I finish this part of the installation.”

“Aaaactually.” Gavin extended the word like a professor giving a student a chance to recant his utterly incorrect answer. I’m not going to fall for that.“The Cauldron has a fully stocked garden. We could probably mix up some tincture of Bel—”

Alan didn’t let him finish. “Yes! Yes. That’s perfect.” He elbowed the unfortunate Handsman out of the way so that he could reach the communications system and call down to the plant room.

The call wouldn’t connect.

Gavin tapped him on the shoulder. “Gwyn’s probably not there.”

Alan turned to him and raised his eyebrows. Gwyn had been running the plant room? “I thought she was doing Medical?”

Gavin reached past him and made a call. “She did both.” But no one answered his call either. “If she’s not in her room or with the plants, she’s probably with Victor in Medical, and I’m not interrupting that scene.”

“Can you—?” Alan didn’t know the right way to ask. Is it insulting to assume he knows anything about plants? Or to assume he doesn’t?

Gavin clapped a warm hand to his shoulder. “I’m on it.” And he was gone, presumably to the plant room.

Alan firmed his mouth. I trust Gavin. I can delegate. I am not a control-freak like Doctor Agosin in my mother’s Hive. Besides, he had to get this wired into the rest of the ship before fuel became the constraining factor. Fuel or not, without the drive, they weren’t going anywhere.

Cymru fo am byth! / Onward, Men of Harlech.