Ships, unlike humans, exhibit no diurnal tendencies. The lighting is the same, regardless of the time, the sounds of the various machinery remain the same throughout the "day." But people are diurnal and prefer to have their activity cycles based on something resembling a day. So at "night", especially "late at night", human activity is far lower and fewer people tend to be around. Those who work alternate shifts would be awake but at their posts.
Now, most of the crew was gone. Of the population still on board, almost one third had been incarcerated and the most of the rest kept close to C-Section. So sneaking around and avoiding attention was relatively easy. During this period, in Section B, Deck 40, a figure dressed in black pants, a black jacket with a black hood, quietly walked up to the door and touched the communication pad.
The figure whispered into the microphone panel, "Jenkins, I know you're in there. Open the door." After a moment of silence, the figure then added, "Come on, no games. We need to talk, and you know the situation out here, how dangerous it is. Open the fucking door. I got something for you."
Another moment passed and then a quiet click indicated that the door had been unlocked. The hooded figure opened the door and entered the lab. Another click, moments later, indicated that the door was once again locked.
Jenkins was stooped over a workbench, 3 meters from the door, holding a thin, metallic tool in his right hand, and some sort of small back box that seemed to be a metering instrument in his other hand. Both the tool and the meter were connected to with a rat's nest of wires and lights situated on the workbench. His back was to the figure. "You think it's dangerous? I was almost killed today. Want me to tell you how good that made me feel? How good I feel now?" he said to the workbench.
"Are you looking for an apology?" the figure asked. "I had little choice at the time. Look, I'm sorry about the 'you must die' part..."
The tool slipped a bit from Jenkins hands and gouged a bit out of the workbench. Angrily, he threw the tool down, slid the mess of wires off the bench, and slammed the meter down onto the top surface. His hands were shaking slightly. He spun around. "And what about the 'his blood must be spilled' part? How about that? Why not just a ritualistic sacrifice on the spot?"
The Reverend Lon Kalopello lowered his hood and said, "Of course, I'm sorry about that part too. It seems you haven't figured out that I saved your life. You were found in an escape pod, one that is claimed by The Children. And it's not working. If people thought you had sabotaged it, they would have killed you on the spot. I had to play up agreeing with them and calling for your blood, otherwise they wouldn't have let me let you go without making a bit stink. You had to 'convince' me that you could be more use to us alive than dead. By convincing me, you convinced everyone else."
"You're the leader. You could just make a decree," said Jenkins.
"Yes...yes, but I don't want to play the I'm-having-a-Star-Vision card too often. But the end result is that you're safe and can help us."
"Us? Us who?" asked Jenkins bitterly.
"Look, the escape pod holds five. There's the two of us, and one of my acolytes. Plus, someone he's got working on some angle. And then," Lon paused for effect, "...perhaps someone else."
"Someone else? Like who?" asked Jenkins cautiously.
"Whoever you want. It's that simple. You get that pod to work, you pick who's in the last seat. And you know if it's someone in the fold, they will jump if I ask them."
Jenkins stopped to consider the offer. "You mean..." he began.
"Let me be blunt. Quillian. Plain and simple. If I said The Stars told me she needed to spread her legs for you, she'd be out of that rob and into your pants faster than any of your instruments could measure. That's the kind of thing I'd use the Star Vision play for. Do I make myself clear?" asked Lon.
Jenkins was now leaning with his back against the workbench, his hands rapidly, nervously covering each other. After a bit, he managed to ask quietly, "What do you want from me?"
"Actually, just what you want. Minus fucking Quillian," he added as an afterthought with a little smirk. "What have you been spending your time doing since the disaster? Trying to get an escape pod to work. Yeah, I heard about some of the other disasters. It doesn't matter. My pod has all the parts. But you're right, it's got problems. A short in one of the command modules could blow out the electronics of the whole unit, shut down its propulsion system at a critical moment, and wind up turning that pod into an express shuttle to the afterlife. Of which I personally don't believe--but don't quote me on that one. You want to fix a shuttle, I've got one you can fix. Are you up to that?"
"Of course I am. I'm the best damned engineer on this ship. And not just now. I know things those A-Ship, goody-two-shoe, braggarts haven't even heard of. Yeah, I can do it, though...it depends on how bad it is, and the equipment and ... stuff. There's a lot of wiring in a Mark VI-E pod. And it's kind of complicated. And they make it hard to figure these things out. And ..." his voice trailed off.
"Couldn't you just swap something out, replace it with something from that one?" Lon pointed to The Last Hope. Someone had changed the sign with a black marker to read The Lost Hope.
"They're two completely different models. Different command systems, different communication protocol, power bus, form factors, everything. The main reason it's all intact here is because they couldn't use any of it...other than the beryllium conduit."
"The Children's supply of it was stolen recently, so I've none to offer you. Our shuttle has enough of it. But not enough to support yours. It's only got 15 meters so don't even begin to get any bright ideas there." Lon stared at Jenkins for a long moment. Then his face and voice softened a bit. He asked, "When was the last time you got any rest?"
"Couple of days. Why? I got too much work to do to sleep," Jenkins said, suddenly active again.
"I figured. Quillian did manage to retrieve some of the lost stardust in all the recent...confusion." He watched Jenkin's eyes bulge out a little at the mention of the holy dust. "So I have little incentive, need, nor desire to remain on this ship any further. I don't even need to punish those responsible for mishandling the stardust. The white hole should do it for us, rather neatly, in a day or so."
"You found...some stardust?" asked Jenkins with a fierce interest.
"We think so, though we're not certain. You've been helpful to us before--we wouldn't have figured out some of the alternative uses for stardust had it not been for you. So I thought you might be able to help us again to determine if what we have found is the real thing. I have a small sample I brought with me. I think in this instance, our holy relics' loss will be minuscule and ultimately our gain, as well as yours, will be considerable."
Lon removed a small bag he had kept under his belt and removed a small vial from it that contained a sample of a substance that certainly looked like stardust. He set it on the workbench and then politely walked to the back of the lab to take a look at The Lost Hope (nee The Last Hope).
"It looks to be in good shape," Lon said, "except without the conduit, there's no way to get the damn thing to move. I wouldn't waste my time on it when our escape pod is bigger. Though in a pinch, I suppose it would be acceptable...if it actually had the conduit."
He walked inside the pod, looked at the systems, flicked a few switches and watched some of the components power on and self-test. The only red light on the entire panel was on the power control and delivery system. Even with fully functional engines, it was completely inoperative without the conduit to deliver the power. Lon reset the switches and walked out of the pod back into the lab, as the pod's systems shut down or went back into standby mode. Jenkins had gone back to tinkering with the coil of wires on the bench.
"Look, is there anything that I can get you?" asked Lon.
Jenkins flinched for a moment, as if he had been so engrossed with the small Floater that he had momentarily forgotten Lon was even there.
"How about a magic wand? Something I can use to just make it all go away," Jenkins said cynically.
"Would a... have you heard of a..." Lon began but then stopped, as if he hadn't quite decided what he was going to say or reveal. "Could a dark energy field projector help?"
"Why? Are you carrying one around with you right now?" said Jenkins, snidely. "I've got two, but I left one at home and the other one I need in case I meet any scientist who says a white hole isn't impossible enough to make him believe in shit. But with two impossible things, he'll be convinced."
"Seriously. Could it be useful?" asked Lon gravely.
Jenkins turned around and looked at Lon. "Look...I don't know...a dark field versus a white hole? Maybe one would wipe out the other. Maybe they'd repel each other, since they both seem to flaunt all the rules of physics. Yes, it'd be a hell of a power source. But who on board could possibly have one and how the hell would you know?"
The Reverend smiled his practiced smile and said, "We provide confessions to all of the prisoners. You know it's not only for recruiting but an effective way to coordinate drop-off and pick-up of our materials. As you once said, no one checks them when they leave. If they have a few Ks of G-root on them when they go back planet-side, that's not our problem, and really, not traceable to us. But we also get information. And one man told me not only was he involved in a portable dark energy weapon, but they had put an entire field projector in a small, handheld device."
"So where is it?" asked Jenkins.
"I don't know. One Y prisoner passed it off to another and another. Many were killed during The Event, but also through the non-standard extreme interrogation techniques that seem to have gained popularity recently. I know it passed hands a few times, but I've no idea what happened to it since then. Perhaps you could talk to some of the Ys."
"Right...perhaps while at knife-point. That'd be just great. Maybe before they kill me, I could ask them for any military secrets they had."
"Look, are you that naive? If they corner you, you make them want to keep you alive. You give them information, but stuff that doesn't matter or that can't matter. Tell them there's a stuff where Section A used to be or in the contaminated zones in Section F. If they can figure out how to get there, they can take all the riches. That should buy you enough time to get out of there. Anyway, I'll be trying to find out what I can too. I, too, have a vested interest in you succeeding."
The reverend looked around the lab, then looked at a chronometer, and said, "I best be going. It's hard enough getting around with all the loose prisoners. In C-Section, I have to avoid being seen by any of my Children. Oh, and I've sent word that you're permitted to move about C-Section freely. If you're not feeling safe, find any Member and they can arrange an escort for you. I've got some pretty beefy people in the organization."
Jenkins reflexively rubbed his arms where Teshbin and Y't'nli had demonstrated their grip of iron on him.
"OK...I've got stuff to do anyway," Jenkins said distractedly.
"Until we meet again, Technical Sergeant. And don't waste all your blessings in one place."
"I haven't heard that prayer before," Jenkins said, puzzled.
"That's because that one is just for you," the Reverend said, as he pulled up his hood and quietly slipped out the door.