Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer)

by Hechtl, Chris

  “Well, unfortunately the repairs to the holo projectors are sort of down on the list. Getting life support and gravity sorted out are up higher. The number one is getting the EPS system fixed. Then the ODN lines and computer memory for critical systems...”

  Sid's avatar nodded. “I know. I think some of us realized that but others are getting eager. They want everything now. Right now. They are impatient. Which is...?”

  Gwen's eyes narrowed and her fingers drummed against the console in annoyance. “Not happening anytime soon. We're not miracle workers like the admiral. He's trained some of us but we all know we've got a lot to learn. For instance none of us have implants. Well, most of us anyway.”

  “Really?” Sid asked. He hadn't noticed until now.

  Gwen snorted. “Implant tech is proscribed. A locked down thing. Right along with nanites and a lot of other tech. You have to have the keys and skills. If you don't have both...”

  “Then you make do without,” Riff said shifting a console out of the way so he could get behind it. “Which is what we're doing now until the admiral wakes up.”

  Sid nodded. “Which makes what you've been achieving even more remarkable.”

  Gwen nodded, pleased. “Thank you.”

  “Hopefully he gets some rest. I could tell he was bushed,” Sid said. “It's not good to try to function when you are tired like that.” He had actually been surprised that the admiral had crashed. He'd forgotten the need for sleep in the excitement of the moment.

  “Do you sleep?” Gwen asked, clearly curious.

  “Oh of course,” Sid said. “We... all cybers, even AI sleep. We need the downtime. For the cybers we need the rest so our organic bodies can recover... and so we can remain sane. It's also a relief from stress...”

  “Which also keeps you sane. Is that why the others went loco?” Riff asked.

  “I have no idea,” Sid said spreading virtual hands. “It's a running theory. We've got a lot of them now.”

  “Moot point. They were beyond help,” Gwen said with a shrug. “Which is just as well. We wouldn't of been able to help them much.”

  “Oh,” Sid said quietly.

  “At least not for a very long time. But with your help we might get better,” Gwen said diplomatically.

  “That's true,” Sid said brightening a little.

  “You said there are a few people other than the admiral with implants?” Emily asked entering the conversation.

  “Sleepers,” Riff said, hunkering down to look under a panel. He yanked it off and grimaced when it warped a little.

  “Sleepers. Stasis sleepers. People found in stasis pods like the admiral. We've had our share over the centuries. Actually we've probably got the record. We've got over nine hundred on the Kiev. Admiral Irons rebuilt our sickbay so doctor Numiria has been busy repairing and waking those she can.”

  “Repairing?” Emily asked, eyebrow raised. She wished Megan could be here to hear this. She saved the recording for her.

  Riff nodded. “Some go in injured; others were our friends and family who went into stasis...”

  “When they had a lot of radiation. Or were badly hurt,” a tech finished for him. “I got to see my great great great before she passed. The radiation had done too much damage. Doc couldn't save her. She wanted to stay out and die in peace.”

  “Oh,” Sid said quietly. Emily looked torn. “If they had been here we might have been able to do something,” he said.

  “Really? Like what?”

  “We've got a state of the art hospital here. Three of them actually. One specialized in cancers and nanite repair,” Sid replied proudly.

  “Or she could have entered the net and become a cyber like us,” Emily said looking away.

  Riff looked up from under the console. Gwen pursed her lips and then tugged on a long ear. “It's a thought,” she said, exchanging looks with Riff. She for one wouldn't want to be a ghost.

  “We've got a few coming over eventually,” Riff said. “People with implants I mean. The Warners should be coming over soon. If they aren't here already.”

  “They are old. I don't see why they are interested in coming here,” Gwen said.

  “They want to help. And the admiral is an old friend. I say let them. Stay out of their way, they are liable to run you over,” a tech said with a grin.

  “True,” Gwen said with a snort. “Let's see what we can accomplish before Irons wakes up. I'd like to see if we can get enough done here so he can focus on other more important areas,” she said.

  “Memory core two is almost finished,” a tech said looking up. “I got the report a half hour ago.”

  “Good.”

  Sid and Emily brightened. A full and brand new memory core would double their current memory. Now they had to find a way to keep the others from fighting over the spoils.

  The Warners made their way over. They were excited, too excited for words apparently. They hug their son in the boat bay and then climb on board with the other volunteers.

  “We've got a lot like that,” Numiria said, coming up beside the exec. Her husband Lobo was with her. Warner turned to her politely. She nodded her muzzle and flicked her ears to the departing shuttle. His eyes shifted to it. “People like them. The older set are interested in going.”

  “Oh?” Lobo asked.

  “Not all of course. But some. I think it's the excitement. The challenge,” Warner said.

  “And it's helping the admiral,” she replied knowingly.

  “That too. They all seem to have a bond with him. We do as well,” Warner said turning back to the station. “I wish they'd let us do it though. Step back. Keep their wisdom for us.”

  “Let the young lead the way? I think they did that here. But they aren't going to sit in a chair and age while staring at a bulkhead anymore. Swapping stories of the past... dad's tired of doing that. You've really helped them,” Warner replied.

  “I know. Their antigeric treatments helped some but they aren't as spry as they'd like to appear,” she said.

  “I know,” he said with a snort. “Mom's not all that great. I can tell. She's still not talking.”

  “Oh she talks. Just not a lot. I think the speech damage did a lot of psychological damage. Psycho-somatic possibly,” Numiria said. “She will get better with time and practice.”

  “I don't know doc, I'm not cleared for that sort of thing,” Warner said with a grin. The doctor snorted and twitched her long ears. He shrugged. “Mom's a survivor. Dad too.”

  “They'll be fine in other words?” Lobo asked. He was worried about some of the people going. A few were old friends. His old boss had decided to go over and make a new start. He wished Bart and Lisa all the luck in the world.

  “I think so. I wish I could go with them in some ways,” Warner said.

  “Why don't you?” she asked. Lobo stared at the exec.

  He shook himself and then sighed, seeming to deflate a little before his shoulders set. “I thought about it. By my duty is here. Besides,” he said turning to the Neos. “I'm in love. And I've been rather firmly told she's staying put here.”

  “Oh?” Numiria asked with a forward set of ears and canine smile. “Put you in your place?” she asked amused.

  “Woman's prerogative,” he growled. She chuckled.

  “Are you going over there?” Warner asked finally.

  “Me? No, the captain forbade it. I'd like to visit the medical infirmary though. And their supply rooms,” she admitted. “Visit with a couple dozen friends and a bunch of empty hover pallets.

  “Oh hell, you and me both,” he said with a grin.

  “I'll see if one of the medics can send us some stuff.”

  “Probably way past the expiration date doc,” Warner warned her.

  “Probably. But equipment? Tools? Files?” she asked.

  He nodded. “True. I'll pass it on as an order. But only stuff they don't need. Or at least not right away,” he said.

  “We're not sending much to them. I kind of
hate the idea of asking them to send stuff back,” Lobo said.

  “We're sending some of our best and brightest. Some of our people who won't be coming back,” Warner corrected.

  “You think it's that dangerous over there?” Numiria asked, suddenly concerned.

  “It's a station. An old station with gangs and Dilgarth on it. It's dangerous. Don't kid yourself doc. They're working on it though. One step at a time,” he said.

  “Right,” she said with a nod.

  When Irons woke the second time he was momentarily disoriented. He yawned and stretched, scratching but finding the suit in his way. He felt the sway of the hammock and froze. He forced his mind fully awake and made a rough assessment as coherent thought and memory finally returned.

  He was still tired, but now feeling better. His mouth felt like it was dry as a desert though. Time to do something about it. He got up and snagged a cup of coffee from the recently repaired beverage dispenser. He grimaced at the aftertaste of metals in it. Definitely in need of further repair. A back flush and thorough cleaning. He added it to the to do list. He looked around the room, noting the sleeping people.

  Quietly he made his way out into another bay. “Sprite?” he asked.

  “Admiral?” she asked coldly, not sounding pleased at being disturbed.

  “Sitrep?”

  “All's quiet so far,” was all she said.

  He frowned. “A little more if you please commander?” he asked, emphasizing her rank.

  “I am seriously getting tired of... never mind. Fine,” she growled. She still wasn't projecting an avatar or apparently speaking with the others. “Clio has the reactor in hand. Power output hovering around forty nine percent. Bottle is stable. Gwen and Riff have installed two memory cores and made a lot of progress repairing the damage in admin. How much is up to you to judge, I'm not an engineer and they didn't file a report.”

  He paused, cup raised to his mouth and then continued, taking a sip and then setting the cup down. “Kiev?”

  “Unknown. I haven't been in contact.”

  “What have you been doing?” he asked.

  “Personal time. I'm using my personal time,” she said icily. “I'm entitled to it remember?”

  “How much longer is this going to go on Sprite?” he asked quietly.

  “This? Unknown. Repairs are ongoing. I'd say years. Decades at least,” she said ignoring the true thrust of his question. At first he thought she was talking about this, her damage. Finally he realized what she meant. She did a good job of deflecting his concern though, Irons thought. It brought him back to focusing on what needed to be done. He picked up the cup of coffee and downed it.

  “Fine then. We'll, I mean I'll get to work. Rest then if you need it. But I want you to get checked out first chance we get,” he ordered.

  “Whatever,” she said grumbling as she clicked off. He winced. She'd always been frisky, a free spirit bound by her honor and duty. Now... he wasn't sure what the hell was going on with her. It was like something died. PTSD or something. He intended to find out though, just as soon as things were under control.

  “That was rude,” Defender said in a side channel to Proteus. Proteus didn't say anything, just undulated. “Borderline insubordinate.”

  “She's entitled,” Proteus finally responded.

  “She's an officer as I am. He is our superior officer. She is not entitled. Ever.”

  “She is a victim. You're victim. Leave her alone,” Proteus replied, rising to Sprite's defense.

  “I did no less than what was expected of me. My duty,” Defender said, swelling.

  “Both of you shut up. It's not like I can't hear you,” Sprite snarled.

  “You need help,” Proteus said concerned. Sprites appearance was tattered. There were gaping holes in her. Each hole had a reddish color around them of wounds. She was taking the damage a great deal more than it actually was. She was possibly inflicting more upon herself. It was crippling her, crippling her ability to function.

  “I'll... Frack your concern. And Frack you and your duty lieutenant,” she turned, practically shrieking at Defender. For once the dumb AI was disconcerted. “Leave me the hell alone!” She screamed and disappeared, cutting off all contact.

  “This is a problem,” Defender finally said.

  “Which you caused. The admiral is aware of it. I do not believe he understands the full extent of it though. We will have to allow him to deal with it. With her,” Proteus replied.

  “Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! Won't you please shut up! Go do something else!” Sprite screamed from far way. Proteus twirled about himself and then bounced a few times.

  “I... shall take her advice. I have work to do,” he said and then disappeared. Defender watched through the admiral's eyes as he rested a hand on a broken piece of equipment. Proteus was there with him, accessing the systems through his nanites.

  Defender didn't feel remorse. He didn't feel at all. Not normally. He wasn't built for that. But for the first time... something akin to regret coursed through his core. Not in doing his duty, but at the price. He'd heard about this. Heard it was a problem. His programming dealt with most situations handily. But dealing damage... friendly fire the admiral called it. That was not in his core programming. Nor... he turned, automatically throwing up a firewall as Proteus accessed a memory core. It appeared he too had work to do. He was actually thankful for the distraction.

  “What time is it?” Irons asked. He had the clock on his HUD but it wasn't sinked up to the station clock.

  “Morning sir,” a tech said nodding. The admiral raised an eyebrow. “About oh eight hundred.”

  “That works,” Irons said, setting the station clock on his HUD. He could adjust it later. “Sprite?” he asked.

  “Yes Admiral?” Sprite asked.

  “Can you ask Gwen Riff, Sid and any of the other team leaders to meet at oh, say Oh nine hundred?” he asked.

  “Understood,” she said curtly.

  He turned in place for a second and then decided to make the rounds and see how things were going.

  “Admiral they need you in the replicator room to unlock parts for the other fusion reactor,” Sprite informed him a few minutes later.

  “On my way,” he said with a nod, changing direction. “How is the net shaping up?”

  “Better. The replicators have replaced four memory cores,” Sprite replied. Her voice was leeched of emotion.

  “Okay...”

  “That's about one percent of the station's net.”

  “Wow,” he said, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Did anyone remember to add nodes for you and Proteus to use?”

  “It's on the list,” she said, thawing minisculely.

  “Bump it up if it's a problem,” he said.

  “You don't have to be nice to me admiral,” she said, voice cooling once more.

  “I don't Commander? You need the nodes to function when I am on the move. I need you to do your job at the best of your ability. Which means...?”

  “Fine fine,” she said testily. “Whatever.”

  “Commander, I think you and I need to have another talk here as soon as things are squared away.”

  “I'll put it on your calendar,” she growled and signed off with a click. He winced. Yes, he was going to have to take a personal hand in her repair. He'd neglected the issue and it was indeed festering out of control.

  Irons has a pow wow with Gwen, Riff, Sid, and the other leaders. He listened as they laid out what has been accomplished in his absence, nodding and complimenting them. They have worked minor miracles; getting the station running this far was great. Now they needed to do more. To do that he had to focus on the bigger picture.

  “First thing on my agenda is to get more parts in the queue. Which we're working on now I believe,” he said, nodding to Regua. The Veraxin's mandibles twitched and then her upper arms shrugged in second level confirmation.

  “I think we need to get a handle on the Dilgarth and the tribes. The g
angs. Do we have a head count?” the admiral asked, turning to Sid.

  Sid grimaced. Now that internal sensors were online in some areas they were getting a better look at the station's population. It hovered right around four hundred. At least that was four hundred that they could confirm. There could be hundreds more in areas the station's sensors couldn't see.

  “There are four major gangs. Two Terrans, the Romeo clan and the Juliet clan. One mostly non Terran led by a Veraxin and one other that seems to be less than a dozen people. Plus the Dilgarth of course,” a tech said looking up from her tablet.

  “We've boxed the Dilgarth into the F sector,” Gwen said. She seemed happy about that. “We're taking your advice and boxing them into smaller and smaller containment areas. We may have to break them up. What do we do with them once we've got them contained? What if they try to break out?”

  He frowned. “Right now let's just keep them as far from our people as we can. Drop life support in connecting areas as a buffer if you need to. That way they won't cross it easily.”

  “A moat,” Regua said with a mandible click.

  Irons looked at her and then nodded. “Exactly. I'd like to talk to the tribes. But first I'll need to get their attention. Which...”

  “Getting their attention is easy. They know we're here,” Riff said. He yawned. “I'm betting they have spies watching our outer perimeter all the time. The guards said they feel like they're being watched.”

  “Okay,” Irons said with a nod.

  “The real problem isn't getting them to see you; it's getting them to hold still so you can talk with them. And get them to stop shooting at you first,” Sid said with a frown.

  “I think I've got the tools to handle that,” the admiral replied.

  “They won’t talk to us. Even when we try and explain we're not ghosts. The audio and projectors... They destroyed the bots...” Sid looked sad.

  “Then I'll have to go in there myself,” Irons said firmly.

  “You admiral?” Sid asked in disbelief.

  “I'm not sure that's a good idea. I think it's too dangerous. We can't afford to lose you,” Riff said, feeling concerned.