The rangy red-haired pilot showed her teeth in what might equally have been a savage smile or a grimace of pain, and launched into a long vertical lunge. She snatched the ball, holding it in the crook of her elbow as she tucked to roll mid-air, coming down flatfooted, knees bent. Her smile grew positively feral as she threw ball with considerable strength, straight down at the decking.
Predictably -- at least to those wise in the ways of the device and the game -- the ball shot upward. Unpredictably, it skated to the right, into the space occupied by the hapless Fortch, the least apt of their players, nearly as new on station as she, and yet unaccustomed to his local mass.
He jumped for the ball, twisting in an effort to eat his unwanted momentum, actually got a hand on --
"Kara ven'Arith!" The all-call rattled the walls of the so-called Arena.
Bilton leapt, and came spinning to the deck, the bowli ball dancing along his fingers, shedding energy as it did.
Yangi grabbed Fortch by the belt just in time to keep him from ramming his nose against the wall.
Kara, flatfoot and hands at her side, stood waiting.
"Kara ven'Arith to Central Repair," Master Thelly's voice blared. "Kara ven'Arith to Central Repair, now!"
#
"Sorry 'bout it, Kara -- know it's your rec shift. Vechi had an accident in Green-Mid-Six. Got 'er out to the clinic, but the work'd just got started, and needs to be finished. You got least hours on the card."
"So I win," she said, showing cheerful in the face of his worry, though she was worried, too. This accident was the fifth among the tech-crew in the last eighteen Station-days; more than the total accidents for the last six Standard months. Not only newbies, either -- two old hands had spent a couple work shifts each in the station's autodoc, getting patched up from injuries from 'freak accidents'.
Kara finished belting on her kit, and looked 'round.
"Vechi's wagon's still down in Mid-Six," Master Thelly said. "Had to carry her out."
Kara stared at him.
"What happened this time?"
"Wild charge," Master Thelly said, looking even more worried. "You be careful, hear me?"
"I'm always careful," Kara told him, picking up her tea bottle.
He grunted. "So's Vechi."
#
Green-Mid-Six was a well-lit and roomy utility hall in a low-grav segment of the station. Kara had helped with the complete maintenance overhaul of the systems housed in this hall during her tenday tour. Vechi's orders, still up on the work wagon's screen, were to check an anomaly in Bay Four. The hatch was off, and leaning neatly against the wall. The test leads were still tidily wrapped on the wagon, so the wild charge must have struck Vechi either as she removed the hatch, or when she did her first eye-scan. That was standard procedure for a tech with an anomaly report to retire: A visual scan to make sure there wasn't any obvious damage -- melted leads, snapped fuses, anything broken or compromised.
If the tech's eyeballs or nose didn't locate a problem, then the leads from the wagon were attached, and a series of diagnostics were run.
A wild charge build-up, thought Kara, pulling on her gloves, while contemplating the open access from the side of the wagon -- that would create an anomaly, all right.
It would also create damage with a very particular signature. Once identified, all that remained was for the tech to pinpoint the cause, for the reports, and file a work order for rebuild.
Gloves on and light in hand, Kara advanced on the open access port.
Even though she knew what she'd see, Kara still blinked as her light illuminated the interior of the hatch.
Carnage was the word that came to her mind; and also the thought that there would be no identifying the failed source; there simply wasn't enough left to support a forensic diagnostic. The smell of ozone was not completely gone, nor that of the antiseptic sprays they'd used on Vechi.
She returned to the wagon, tapped up the main schematic screen and traced the power flow.
The station operated with tertiary back-ups, only sensible in so vulnerable a habitat as a space station. She was pleased to see that the back-up had come online without a glitch and there had been no discernible disruption of service.
So much was to the good. She opened another screen, logged the damage and created the work order for the rebuild. In plain truth, she was likely to draw that one, but right now she was Vechi, with Vechi's orders to clear.
She tapped the screen, bringing up the list of work orders. Anomaly resolution went to the top of a given roster-list, so this had been Vechi's first stop on her shift. It glowed yellow on the screen -- begun, but not logged as complete.
Below was a long list of work orders, all patiently showing green -- waiting for tech.