Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer)

by Hechtl, Chris

  “But this... the cleaning has been our task for generations! Ours and ours alone!” Another elf said, coming forward.

  “Okay, if you want to continue no one is saying you should stop. I'm saying that it's not the only thing your people can do. You can still clean, and you can manage the robots that will help you with the task.”

  “Making it easier for you,” Warner said, looking from the admiral to the chief elf. “Taking some of the tedium out of the job. I know how tiring my job is. I can only imagine what it is like for you. Don't you want more help?”

  “But that... the work isn't enough for all of us with robots as well!” a voice cried in denial.

  “Then you can do other jobs!” Irons said waving his hands. Teela looked at him. “You can run wiring into places where large hands can't,” he held up his own hands. Each was nearly as large as an elf. “Or you can become doctors or other careers! You are a people!”

  That brought about a murmur among the elves. Warner looked at Irons.

  “We are the people of the ducts! That is who we are!” A voice said.

  “Yes but you are starfarers! Your ancestors rose into the sky and flew ships like other races. You can do so again if you put your minds to it! There's nothing... NOTHING wrong with your minds. Just because you are small doesn't excuse you. It doesn't with me and it shouldn't with anyone else. You are a people, not robots.”

  “No offense,” Sprite interjected dryly.

  “None meant,” Irons replied as he locked eyes with the chief elf. He watched the elf rasping breath as his people murmured and talked about the idea.

  Finally the oldster's grip tightened on his cane. He tapped it twice against the floor he was on. Slowly all eyes turned to him. “This is too much for one day to discuss and attend to. We will discuss it,” he said turning.

  “I know an elf who is a first lieutenant on Firefly. She is the ship's chief tactical officer. Her name is Purple Thorn, she is related to Oberon. Think about it. If she can do something like that then what can you do? Check the ship's net for careers. I'm sure you can do a great deal of things given time and an education,” Irons said, feeling like he was pleading with them.

  “We will consider it and get back to you,” the oldster said, one hand balled into a fist behind his back as he looked over his shoulder to the Terrans. “Good day to you,” he said. “There will be no more interference with your robots from now on,” he said firmly.

  “Thank you,” Teela said with a nod. “That's all I ask,” she said. She turned to Warner. “The rest is up to you,” she said.

  “No it's up to them,” Warner said looking at the aliens around them. “I... the Admiral is right. I'm sorry I didn't encourage your people to be more than what they currently are. But I will work to change that if you will,” he said one hand over his heart. He motioned for the others to go. Teela brushed a hanging bag out of her face as she turned. It swayed back and forth. An elf dropped down the line and turned to glare at her. She ignored it as she left. The men followed.

  “Well! That was interesting,” Warner said as the hatch clanged shut behind them. “So they were doing it all along to protect their jobs. And we didn't see it.”

  “Sometimes we overlook the obvious,” Irons replied thoughtfully. He hoped something good would come out of the confrontation.

  “True,” Teela said. She nodded to the guard. He was a Terran with a standard black ship suit on. It seemed new, unlike the slightly worn coverall Warner was sporting. Apparently someone had figured out how to fabricate clothing. That was a good sign.

  “We done here?” he asked.

  “It appears so,” she said looking at Warner. He nodded. “All right then. I'll file a report.”

  “I'll inform the captain,” the exec said with a wince. Irons felt a little sympathy for that. He wasn't sure how the captain would react.

  When the others were gone Irons paused, looking at the hatch thoughtfully.

  “Is that all they do?” Sprite asked quietly. “Spend their entire lives in the ducts scrubbing them?” she asked softly. She couldn't imagine such an existence for a sentient to do day after day for literally generations.

  “It appears so,” Irons said quietly. He felt a little disappointed in that. He'd seen the tiny brooms and shovels the elves had. He couldn't imagine spending a day doing that, let alone a life time. One generation after another, just toiling away. Like being in a mine shaft, constantly having to go back over your own work since the job never ended. “So much waste. So much talent there wasted on menial tasks. They deserve better,” he said.

  “Then we need to make sure they have the opportunity to try,” she said.

  “I'm not sure if they can,” Irons said, turning away slowly. He started forward. “Some people can't get out of a job. Out of their comfort zone. They spend so much time doing a task that...”

  “That they lock themselves into it. They stopped taking risks and accepted it. They no longer see the prison bars limiting them, they see the bars as protection,” Sprite murmured catching on. “Agoraphobia.”

  “They don't see the bars limiting them. They see it as comfort and security. To them it's not penning them in, it's keeping the rest of the universe at bay,” he murmured.

  “What a way to live a life,” Sprite said.

  “Not for me,” Irons said. “We've got work to do.”

  A day later the gardener had a sit down with O'Mallory and Cora. The admiral wasn't invited but Sprite listened in. The gardener is defensive and annoyed by all the changes. Cora managed to diffuse the situation and put him at ease by asking how his plants were doing. She explained that they wanted to continue with the gardens; after all they needed fresh fruit and vegetables. What they would like to do is clean up things; make them more safe and efficient. Repair anything that needs fixing and maybe design the plumbing and lighting for the maximum use of the space.

  “We do need better lights,” the gardener replied.

  “See?” O'Mallory asked with an inviting smile. “We can replicate some UV and IR lights that are much more efficient than the ones we currently have in place. And we can design the wiring so we get the maximum amount of light where you want it when you want it. Same for the plumbing. I believe you want drip lines but we've had problems right?” O'Mallory asked.

  “We have some, but they become brittle. I've improvised more.”

  “We can replicate them. The admiral showed us how to make plastic parts with a food replicator so we don't need to use his. How would you like coils of drip line? Or new fittings?”

  He blinked and leaned backwards. His long clawed hands scratched at one side, picking off flakes of dirt and scaly skin. “Some of the parts have been worn down. We have valves that have been stripped.”

  “And we can replace them. We can run the lines where you want, out of the way. Water lines, ducts, sewer lines, all of it. Do you want to make more room and stack things in some places? What about timers to send nutrients to plants at specific times and with specific amounts? We can do that. Think about it,” O'Mallory said.

  “You can do that?” The Gashg asked, leaning forward and staring at her with his eye stalks. His mouth opened and closed. His long claws dug into the side of the desk. Cora saw the marks and winced.

  “Yes. Anything is possible if we put our minds to it,” Cora said with a smile. “And we can do it right. No slapped together things that fall apart after heavy use. New pots... you know what, make a list. A wish list and prioritize it. Everyone else in the other departments has, you should too.”

  “The ceramic pots...”

  “Break.”

  “So we make plastic pots. I'd like a few hanging pots for my quarters. I'd love to have some plants in my quarters,” Cora said with a smile. “I grew up around green things. I even have my little watering can still. Silly, but I still do.”

  “I can see about getting you some soil and some seeds,” the gardener said.

  “I'd love to have them,” Cora s
miled appreciatively.

  ñChapter 11

  O'Mallory talked with Numiria over breakfast. She nibbled on toast as they talked. Numiria devoured a chicken omelet. She dabbed at her muzzle when she was finished and O'Mallory sipped her coffee, relaxing and enjoying the release of tension. “Always the carnivore,” she teased as her eyes drifted to the count down grease board with 42 days on it.

  A Neo Hyena entered. He was a scruffy being, red fur with black stripes from the mane running down his back. He was wearing a set of stained coveralls with one shoulder strap unhooked. He looked like a hay seed from some space show. He even had a tattered red ballcap on. He leaned over and nuzzled Numiria's muzzle with his own. It's the equivalent of a kiss for Neos. “That's my wife,” he told O'Mallory with a cackling laugh. Numiria wiggled her ears and stroked her husband's cheek. “See you at dinner tonight?” he asked.

  “I'll try,” she said. Her eyes were soft and not quite firm in her answer. There was a hint of an apology there. She knew she unintentionally let Lobo down all too often.

  “I've got to tear down the number four recycler again. But I'll make it,” he told her. “I heard that admiral fellow is going to help. About time I met him,” he said shooting O'Mallory a look. His ears flicked and then settled forward.

  The chief set her cup down in surprise. “Something I said?”

  “More like didn't say. You of all people know it's wise to close the loop properly,” Lobo said shaking his head as he turned back to her. “You just don't like getting your hands dirty,” he said wrinkling his muzzle as he took his battered ball cap off and shook his black mane out before putting it back on. “Like us honest folk,” he said, hooking his thumbs under the suspenders of his overalls.

  O'Mallory snorted. “I do my share of dirty work. I just don't revel in it like some people,” she said giving him a glare. “And I'm not a connoisseur of trash? So?”

  “Tisk tisk,” Numiria teased. O'Mallory turned a mock glower her way. “I didn't know you had skipped over the recycling.”

  “Well some people were bitching and whining to skip to the head of the line. Not naming any names though,” she said, glaring at the doctor accusingly.

  “Always ladies first,” Lobo sighed then smiled taking Numiria's hand and stroking it. “For her I don't mind though,” he said.

  She smiled, squeezing his hand. “I'll be home. Unless something comes up,” she said softly.

  “Good,” he said with a nod. He went to the food replicator and grabbed a couple of energy bars and a cup of coffee and then left stuffing the bars in his pockets.

  “He's running late,” O'Mallory said.

  “I forgot to wake him,” Numiria admitted. “He was so cute flat out on his back, head hanging over the side of the bed, tongue hanging out snoring...” She grinned. “I took a picture and used it to replace his profile picture. I'm wondering how long it will take before he notices.”

  “Teach him to have you set the thing up for him and not change the password,” O'Mallory chuckled, taking a sip of coffee.

  Numiria looked down suddenly. “Something's got me by the pant leg,” she looked under the table as O'Mallory scoots back to look as well.

  “Hello,” Numiria said. “Why don't you come up here where we can better see you,” she said. She could smell an elf.

  The elf looked uncertain but then shrugged. She hopped up on an empty chair and then onto the table nearly landing on Numiria's dirty plate. The doctor moved the plate aside. The elf watched it clatter aside warily.

  “Something we can do for you?” O'Mallory asked. She'd heard about the bots yesterday and wasn't happy about it. It was reflected in her icy tone. Numiria shot her a quelling look.

  The elf looked at the human and then back to the neo. She gulped and dry washed her hands a few times. Numiria cocked her head and raised an eyebrow.

  “I want to learn,” the elf finally said.

  “Learn? Learn what?” Numiria asked.

  “I... I want to be a better medic. A nurse or a doctor,” the elf said hesitantly.

  “You are one now?” O'Mallory asked, looking at the elf and then looking at the doctor. “I didn't know that.”

  “Neither did I. I've actually never had an elf patient. I wondered why until now. Now we know,” she nodded politely to the elf, ears forward and attentive. The elf's antenna wiggled up and down. Her tail was stiff behind her. “You'll pardon me for my ignorance.”

  The elf looked uncertain. Her tail thrashed back and forth, a clear sign of distress. “I... I am the healer of my clan. I would like to know more,” she told them. Numiria is a little skeptical but O'Mallory nodded and nudged her friend to go along.

  “We can always use new students. Anyone willing to learn is welcome. And if it means your people get better medical care, all the better right doc?” O'Mallory said, prompting the doctor with a look.

  Numiria stared at her, turning the thought over and over before mentally shrugging. “All right,” she said. “Unfortunately most of my patients are a little big for you. We can start with the basics and see what you know. If you can shift some of your patient load to the infirmary then we can provide access to the medical equipment and supplies,” she said.

  “We have only taken what we need. But...” the elf looked uncertain as the doctor's ears went flat back. Numiria wasn't happy about the thefts.

  O'Mallory rested a hand on the doctor's as it curled into a fist. “You are our shipmates. But I suggest in the future you clear that with the doctor or the staff. But I also suggest from now on that you have your people report to you in the infirmary. Right doctor? That way you can access the equipment and help you when you or they are in need,” she said.

  “There... I cannot do anything for Bloodknife. His spine was broken in the fall. His legs...” the elf looked away and closed her large eyes.

  Numiria sucked in her breath, suddenly feeling a weltering of emotion. She knew what it was like to be a doctor and feel so damn helpless sometimes. To feel the need to do anything for her patients. To try your hardest and watch death steal them away despite the effort. It wasn't fair. Yes she knew.

  “All right,” she said, ears rising. “From now on we'll work together. I'll have engineering here work out the medical equipment and exam tables for your species. We'll see if we can find the data in the computer for your species.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I think we can use the replicators to make tools for you. I mean ones you can use. I can just imagine you trying to use a standard sized stethoscope,” O'Mallory said.

  For once the elf seemed amused. She wiggled her antenna and her tail settled. She turned enough to look at O'Mallory. There was a small smile on her face. O'Mallory nodded.

  “Is Bloodknife still alive?” Numiria asked. The elf nodded. Numiria felt concern. There was so much expressive anguish in those large eyes. She had to help.

  “What is your name? I forgot my manners,” Numiria sighed, ears flat again.

  “Light Touch,” the elf said. “Bloodknife... he is stable. I... he is my younger brother.”

  “Then we'll see what we can do for him,” the doctor said getting to her feet. “Come on. I'll call ahead and we'll get a triage team to your compartment. We'll go from there,” she said. “One step at a time,” she said as the elf hopped down off the table and then headed to the hatch.

  “Thank you,” she said, pausing as she climbed over the knee knocker. The doctor nodded.

  “Let me know how it turns out!” O'Mallory called and waved. Numiria didn't say anything but she waved as she exited.

  “Well,” O'Mallory sat back and cradled her cup. “That was interesting,” she said. She looked at the dirty dishes and wrinkled her nose. “Sure, leave me with the mess to clean up,” she sighed.

  “Don't forget you've got the kiddies coming this morning chief,” George told her as he came into the galley.

  O'Mallory looked up at him and then sighed getting up. “Sure, remind me of my own fo
llies why don't you. Rub it in,” she said policing the dishes.

  “I've got that,” a Veraxin bus boy said, taking the dirty dishes and placing them into the tub on his tray. “Anything I can get you chief?”

  “Just leaving,” she said, downing the last of her coffee and then stretching. When the Veraxin reached for her cup she snatched it back. “Nope, this one's mine,” she said with a grin.

  “Still got the cup I see,” George said smiling, shaking his head.

  O'Mallory turned on him with a glower. “And just why are you here? Isn't this your shift?” she demanded.

  “Man's got to eat chief,” he said, making his way around the tables to the food replicator. “Besides, Yvonne's up. Said something about not wanting to miss you sticking your foot in your mouth.”

  “Everyone's a comedian,” O'Mallory muttered making her way to the hatch. She could hear the pitter patter of feet on the deck already. “Oh this is going to be a looooong day.”

  O'Mallory started to get into teaching as well as she warmed up to the experience. It was interesting with a one on two or three experience, but even more fun when she noted the enthusiasm on the kid's faces. The kids were eating up what she was telling them. Everything from the hyperdrive to the lighting was touched upon. She felt exhausted but elated as they near the end of the tour.

  She explained to the young students in the field trip about the fusion reactor and fusion drive and their differences. “Really, the fusion drive isn't fusion at all. It's not really a fusion drive; it's actually a plasma ion drive. It's a giant rail gun. We funnel all the waste from the reactor, most of it is helium by the way, plus anything else we don't want to the rail gun. The gun gives this fuel an electric charge that is similar to the charge on the walls of the thrusters.”