Chapter Text
“Well, the union reps are talking about-” I stopped abruptly, as every screen and light in my office flicked off and trapped us in complete darkness. Captain Aizawa, who until now had been leaning back casually in a chair in front of my desk, had suddenly lurched forward, based on the sound of his chair legs hitting the floor.
Within a second, the amber-toned emergency lighting flickered to life weakly, illuminating us both staring at the other quizzically. At least the backup generators had kicked in, but it was still unnerving. Blackouts were pretty normal planetside, but on a ship? On this ship?
“Toshinori,” Aizawa vaguely towards the ceiling, trying to call the AI.
Nothing.
“Shit, I guess we better get down to the bridge,” I said, frowning. “And here I was so excited to talk your ear off.”
Aizawa snorted as he moved to the door, pulling it open manually and keeping it open until I reached the doorway.
“Saved by the bell I guess,” he added over his shoulder.
Aizawa and I got along despite our professional relationship, rather than because of it. It wasn’t exactly conducive to being an amicable partnership - as the head of HR, I had to keep him in line with union rules, labor laws, all the boring paperwork stuff. And all the while, he had to worry about...well, literally everything else on the ship, I guess. But I tried to make his job easier, and he appreciated it (I really hoped he did, anyway). That didn’t mean there wasn’t a healthy amount of ribbing involved, though.
I followed Aizawa down the hall in what little light there was. There were wall lights every few inches, but the generators only powered every tenth one or so. I had always thought blackouts were kind of exciting as a kid - breaking out the candles and flashlights, making shadow puppets, taking a rare chance to unplug from the devices around us. But it was a lot more unnerving aboard a ship that depended on that electricity to, you know, keep you alive.
“We are fine running on reserve generators, right?” I asked. I knew it was a stupid question - we still had gravity and air, clearly the essential systems were online, but it was still nerve-wracking.
Aizawa nodded, adding, “They should actually be able to power about forty or fifty percent of the ship, but I guess that depends on the cause of the blackout.”
“That’s not nearly as reassuring as I was hoping for,” I replied, trying to make my tone lighthearted.
“Ah, and here I thought I was a beacon of optimism,” he said, giving a half-smile when I snorted in response.
We reached the main hall in a few minutes, taking a few more flights of stairs than I would have otherwise preferred in the dark. After shoving open another door, we were in the bridge. The two-story tall windows at the front of the room looked out into the void ahead of us, currently dotted with a thick smattering of asteroids. The weak light of distant suns turned everything in the room from unlit black to dull, spooky gray. Unilluminated workstations ringed the outside of the room, and in the center was the captain’s chair and desk.
Kayama, Yamada and Todoroki were already here, gathered around the main table’s hologram screen. Well, at least that was still working.
“Good of you to join us,” Todoroki said sarcastically, shooting a glare towards us. He was the broad-shouldered and bearded head of security and, I think as part of his duties, permanently had a stick up his ass. He was all beef and bad attitude. Even in a crisis you could count on him to be pissy - which was fairly reassuring, actually.
“Sorry we couldn’t teleport in a timely fashion for you,” I quipped. “What’s the prognosis?” I addressed the latter question to Kayama as I took a place by her side.
She shrugged her shoulders at me as Aizawa leaned over the table and swiped through various screens. I tried not to mess with the mainboard that often - it wasn’t like I needed to see any of the diagnostics there - but I recognized him pulling up views of the engine bay.
“Toshinori?” Aizawa called again, looking up. A soft beep sounded, and I let out a sigh I didn’t even know I’d been holding in.
“Yes,” Toshinori replied placidly in the iconically even tones of an AI.
“Glad you’re okay at least,” Aizawa said, diving back into menu screens and diagnostics. “Can you patch me into Shoto in engineering?”
Technically, since we all went by last names in professional settings, he should’ve said Todoroki, but we all kind of danced around that. Todoroki Senior was touchy at the best of times, and ever since we hired his son we just kind of all decided just ‘Shoto’ was better than ‘Junior.’ For his part, Shoto didn’t mind - I think he liked his last name about as much as his father, so it was just fine by him if we never said it at all.
Another soft beep as Toshi acknowledged the request, and a floating video window appeared about a foot off the table. Shoto popped into view, calm and collected as ever.
“Shoto, what’s the status down there?”
“Our main engine is completely offline,” came the deliberate, if slightly disappointed, response. They may hate each other, but the Todorokis did have some stark similarities - even Toshi had a better emotional range than both of them put together, and he didn't even have a face. “It looks like part of the internal timing mechanism snapped. The backup solar generators are keeping the baseline, but that mostly just covers essentials and the bridge.”
"Is that...something you can fix?" I asked, arching an eyebrow. Shoto might be young, but he was an exceptional engineer - in fact, it'd been rare that anything went wrong with the ship since he'd started. Or wrong enough that anyone outside of the boiler rooms noticed, anyway. (He had to be exceptional for me to even think of hiring a second Todoroki.) But no matter how skilled or attentive he was, everything had to break at some point, even massive engines.
"Yes," he said in his usual measured tone, "but it’s a catastrophic error, so it’s a rather...involved process to repair." He was staring hard at something just beyond his end of the screen, and I could practically see the calculations going through his head about the logistics of getting waist-deep in engine guts. Good. I wasn't really a fan of anything classed as 'catastrophic.'
"Is it something you have the parts on hand to fix?" Aizawa followed up, studying the diagrams on our end while rubbing his stubble pensively. I genuinely had no idea how much of them he understood - this far down in the menus, it was all gibberish to me - but he at least looked like he knew what he was looking at.
"No," Shoto said, shaking his head. "A bigger ship might have all the parts necessary stocked, but it's a rare enough problem that it wasn't cost effective for us to have them on hand."
“Well, Yamada, guess you better start radioing our neighbors,” Kayama threw over her shoulder at the comms officer.
"That's going to be a problem," Yamada said with a dramatic sigh, gesturing to the windows. "We're in the middle of an asteroid belt."
"So?" Todoroki retorted.
"So," Yamada sniped back loudly, "external ship comms can't magically phase through rocks. We were scheduled to clear it tonight, but without engine power..." He shrugged, expression tragic.
Aizawa massaged the bridge of his nose, looking defeated.
"It'll take us until midday tomorrow to clear it," Shoto chimed in. "We've still got considerable forward momentum."
"Okay," Aizawa said, nodding. "Yamada, prep all comms as much as you can, and Shoto, let him know when we're clear."
"What, and we all do nothing in the meantime?" Todoroki asked, arms folded.
“Oh, I have some ideas to keep us busy,” Kayama tossed back, a mischievous twinkle in her eye - a signature look for her.
“The rest of you,” Aizawa said with a pointed glare toward Kayama, “will be on call for anything we need in the meantime, but give any nonessential crew the day off.”
“Just the day?” Todoroki said, frowning even deeper than usual.
“It’ll likely take at least a week, if you include time to hail a ship,” Shoto chimed in.
Aizawa wiped a hand down his face, clearly just trying to put out one fire at a time. He usually looked a little haggard, but his expression now bordered on pained.
“Until further notice,” I answered firmly, shifting to take a step forward. “I’ll send out an email later, tell them to direct any questions to me.”
Todoroki grunted, Shoto nodded, and Aizawa gave me a grateful look that made me inordinately proud of myself. Yeah, sure, I had just doomed my inbox from now until eternity, but I made Aizawa’s job a little easier at least. I didn’t even know what I would say to everyone's inevitable questions, but I’d think of something on the fly. I always did.
“Hang on,” I said, turning back towards the video window of Shoto, “we do have at least most of our computers powered by the generators, right? We’ll be able to keep working?”
“I’m working on distributing it now,” he said, and I didn’t doubt that his hands, though not in view of our screen, were moving along the controls as we spoke. “I can keep a couple running in each office, but that’s about it.”
I waved a hand dismissively, saying, “That’s fine. No need to give everyone more opportunity to bug me.” Kayama snorted. Aizawa nodded firmly, although I suspect in regards to the power distribution rather than my workload.
“Alright, get to it everyone,” he said, closing out of all the mainboard’s windows and nodding to Shoto right before his image disappeared from the air.
I turned to head out alongside everyone else, but I felt a tug on my elbow.
“Hey,” Kayama hissed, “hang on, I have something to run by you.”
"Okay," I said with playful wariness, "what're you scheming about now?"
Nemuri Kayama, the interior administrator, was someone I worked well with both professionally and personally. Between the two of us, we were almost entirely responsible for the crew's life onboard, so it was a nice bonus that she was one of my best friends.
"Scheming, moi? " she said, touching her hand to her chest in mock scandal. "I was simply thinking that a good way to entertain everyone in the meantime would be...a party." She raised her eyebrows at the last word, waiting expectantly for my reaction.
“No,” I said instantly with a shake of my head, “absolutely not.”
“Oh come on,” she whined, clasping my hand in both of hers. “It would give people something to do other than bother you! And it's not like they’re going to be doing anything productive anyway.”
“That’s too much set up on short notice during a blackout,” I countered. The residential pod coordinators would have enough on their plates as it was; each pod had what, twenty units? And there were around thirty pods total - we were on the smaller end as far as ships went, but that still wasn’t small. I didn't like the math of thirty separate parties being held in the dark. Besides, I was no party planner, but no electricity certainly put a damper on things.
“Listen, everyone’s pod has a lawn in the middle and that doesn't need electricity beyond the sun lamps,” Nemuri protested. “Either way, I’m going to have a party on our lawn so really it’s just a matter of how many other people are gonna join in. Besides, I’m the manager of the interior, what can anybody do about it if I say so?” The last part was accompanied by a pout, which worked well for her but I wasn’t about to tell her that.
“I’ll think about it,” I said sternly, both of us already knowing it was a yes. I had a soft spot for slapdash plans and having fun, and Nemuri knew just how to put those things together. Well, time to get ready for a party, I supposed.
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Even in the maybe hour or so since the power had gone out, I still had received close to a hundred emails. I frowned at the screen as I flopped down at my chair, the rest of the office still dark. How had they even managed this? Shoto said he only put a few computers online per division, were they taking turns just to email each other and copy me? Technically they could send emails from their personal devices too, but I couldn’t imagine anyone wanted to waste their battery life on that right now.
I sighed and started scrolling, one hand propping up my chin. Alright, maybe a party later tonight did sound good. I could already tell I was going to be staying late for the paperwork this whole snafu would entail, and I could certainly use a way to unwind.
I was so lost in self-pitying thought that when a rap came on the doorway, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Hand to my chest and adrenaline shooting down my back, I sighed when I realized it was only Aizawa.
“Scared of the dark?" He cocked an eyebrow at me, a smirk on his face.
“It’s generally considered polite not to lurk , ” I said in an attempt to be stern, but I probably just sounded petulant.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever been accused of lurking before,” he mused, leaning against the doorframe.
“You’re just scary like that,” I teased, scrolling back through the emails absent-mindedly. I didn’t find him particularly scary, but plenty of the crew seemed intimidated by his intensity; he had a bit of reputation for his ability to stare someone down.
“Speaking of scary,” he said contemplatively, “what exactly are you and Kayama planning to do with a crew full of people who can’t do anything for a week?”
“Well…” I said, pushing my chair back to look at him slyly, “Nemuri did propose something to me after that meeting.”
“And I’m going to hate it, aren’t I?” he asked, already sounding a little exasperated.
“Oh absolutely,” I said, grinning. “We’re going to tell everyone to have a party.”
Sure, I wasn’t exactly in favor of it per se, but I figured a failed party attempt would keep people’s minds off of the blackout a little bit at least. And it’s not like I had a better plan. Besides, giving Aizawa a hard time was my bread and butter.
“No. Absolutely no way,” Aizawa shot back, shaking his head firmly.
“You know she’s going to throw her party regardless,” I countered, “and I think you’d feel a lot less guilty going if it were mandatory. Besides, can you think of a better way to boost morale?” I smirked as I watched him roll his eyes, sigh, and finally accept it.
“Fine. Fine, but if it goes wrong, it’s your problem,” he said, as if challenging me.
“When is it not?” I replied flippantly. “So, any update from Shoto?”
“Not much,” he said, pressing his lips together in a concentrated frown, “it’s just a waiting game at this point.”
“Well, at least Shoto got enough of the computers up for everyone to bitch at me,” I sighed, gesturing to the ever-increasing notifications on my screen.
“I can see why you’re in favor of a party tonight then,” he chuckled lightly.
“Hey, you should just be glad you get to see me in my new dress,” I jabbed back. He gave me an odd, appraising look and I felt my stomach twist in anxiety. We usually joked like this all the time, had I said something wrong suddenly? Had I misjudged our banter?
“Besides, watching Nemuri get wasted is a perk all by itself,” I added on, trying to sound as cheeky as before. He gave a light chuckle, and I felt myself relax.
"Oh, what'd you stop by for?" I asked, realizing I'd sidetracked him.
"Ah - just checking in, that's all," he said, seeming to be caught off guard by the question.
"I appreciate it," I said, and I meant it. "I would've figured you had a lot more pressing things to deal with right now."
"I just needed a break. Stretch my legs and all that," Aizawa shrugged, looking almost sheepish. "Well, I guess I'll see you at the party then." With that, he turned and disappeared into the dark of the office.