Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer)

by Hechtl, Chris

  Irons hid a frown as he looked over to the Telerite cargo master. He still didn't see the big picture. He didn't want to be here, he wanted to be on the station, but a face to face meeting with the senior staff of Kiev was long overdue. They needed to settle things here and now.

  "Oh I'd say loads. Let's say we do a trade?" Irons asked with a smile. He rubbed his hands together. He felt great. For once a weight was lifting off his shoulders. He'd felt it sink in ever since he left Pyrax. Now... now Atlas may yet be unburdened from his heavy duty.

  "We?"

  "No wait, let's hear him out," Quinna said amused. "What are you laying on the table admiral?"

  "Let's say you offer fifty tons of hydrogen and twenty tons of water, food, and raw materials. Also transportation of one platform to a nearby gas giant. In exchange we'll replace one system on the ship."

  Now that he had one reactor up and a replicator working he was confident enough to make the offer.

  The captain blinked. The purser rubbed his jaw. After a moment Quinna cleared her throat. "When you say one complete system..."

  "I mean a complete replacement. Not a rebuild,” he answered firmly. He indicated the station. “Take your pick. sublight drives, hyperdrive, electronics, sensors, life support, shields, reactors, or other. Replacement. Factory new. Literally. We take the old parts as well for later recycling."

  "Um..." The Telerite blinked. He looked uncertainly to the captain. The captain looked at the Telerite and tried to hide his annoyance. Blur was usually a good barterer.

  "I for one like this deal. Can you sweeten it by doing two systems?" Quinna asked.

  "If you throw in a raw material run in system for me," Irons replied with a smile. "If some more of your passengers volunteer to join the station we'll even toss in one of the smaller system replacements for free."

  "The fuel..." the purser said looking uncertain.

  "I think the fuel's not an issue is it admiral?" Quinna said, pursing her lips. He didn't say anything but he had a small smile on his face as he crossed his arms. She snorted softly, able to read him and know where he was going with all this. "Let me guess, the platform you want us to haul and set up is a refinery isn't it?"

  He nodded; amused that she'd picked up on that right away. "Automated refinery, got it in one. Toss in hauling another and their production back to the station and we'll provide parts for critical systems. Or another industrial replicator. I'll even give you the plans to the refinery."

  "Oh!" The purser's eyes finally lit at that. He'd heard about the earlier discussions of a refinery. He had thought it was a risky gamble but now this was different. "Why the refinery? Isn't it easier to get materials from Antigua? It has a lower gravity after all."

  The admiral frowned and then shrugged. The Telerite didn't know better so he'd educate him. "True, but helium 3 and hydrogen are in higher quantities on the gas giants. They pick up the solar wind and concentrate it," Irons explained. The captain nodded, lips pursed. He tapped his fingers on his chin in thought, eyes distant.

  "If we use straight hydrogen..."

  "You'd be back in the same situation in a century. Even with replaced reactors. We could replace your reactors with ones that can better handle the radiation, but helium 3 is a better option. It gets you more bang for your credit."

  “Reactors? Plural?” the captain asked, finger tapping on the desk as he looked intently to Irons.

  “Yes. Full replacement if that's the system you choose.” He thought for a moment then shrugged. “Just the reactors, EPS conduits are separate.”

  “Back to this fuel issue,” the cargo master said, shooting an apologetic look to the captain. The captain didn't mind, he was stunned and still digesting what the admiral had just said. “I'm confused,” Blur admitted.

  "Okay," Quinna said nodding. She gave the Telerite a patient look. "See, helium 3 as fuel gives us four times the power to fuel ratio over straight hydrogen."

  "Can our systems handle it?" the captain asked. "The additional power I mean."

  O'Mallory shrugged. "We can either step down to compensate, or rebuild, or replace the plasma conduits captain."

  "Timeline?" the exec asked. “We need to be in Centennial by the harvest or we'll get the dregs. If we're too late the produce will be worthless.”

  "It depends on how fast I can get the systems online," Irons admitted. “I've got one class five reactor, two class two industrial replicators, one class three, and four small class one industrial replicators up. The cybers are working on the computer net but it's well... bad.”

  "This station... It's like Anvil right?" O'Mallory asked.

  "Oh no," he laughed, shaking his head. "Anvil was a pre-processing node for a station like this. A small class four pre-processing node. Anvil has six class five reactors. This station has a dozen class seven reactors, sixteen class five reactors, and three antimatter plants. Anvil has six class four industrial replicators, this station has class ten replicators as well as class eight, six, class five and class four replicators. Dozens of them and dozens of smaller replicators. Plus dedicated forges, machine shops, stamping presses, the whole works."

  "Wow. Seems like overkill," Quinna said eyes wide.

  "Well, put it this way. Fully operational, a crew of a hundred thousand, fully fueled, and stocked with materials this station can rebuild your ship in one twenty four hour period. That's a complete rebuild of every major system, as well as a repair of the hull and frame. A full skin job would take another day,” Sprite said proudly.

  Quinna whistled at that, eyes wide. "Wow."

  "I'll say," the cargo master said.

  "Now say if you want a replacement ship. That would take..." Irons grimaced trying to do the math. Sprite helpfully projected the answer for him on his HUD. "About ten standard days after a docking slip was built. That would take about a week."

  "That's... that's insane," the Telerite replied, shaking his head in wonder.

  "It's an El Dorado," the captain breathed finally catching on. El Dorado for the legendary city of gold. Everyone who has lived after the Xeno war had dreamed of finding one, and here it was right there in front of them. Battered but functional. With Iron's help it would restore everything. For the first time he realized just how life changing that station and this man was.

  Irons nodded. "Exactly. With this station fully operational you can rebuild an entire star system to full luster. Full old Federation luster. The entire sector would follow through within a decade or two."

  "Oh baby," the exec said smiling and rubbing his hands.

  "Right. You've got excess crew and passengers. Your ship is a bulk carrier, designed to transfer goods to stations like this. I think we can do business."

  The captain pursed his lips again and stared at the admiral for a moment. "By that I take it you're staying admiral?"

  "Yeah," Irons said with a smile. "I can work with this," he said nodding firmly. “This fulfills one of my essential variables I need to restart civilization. It's also a key element I need to hold off the pirates. Yeah, if everything works half as well as I hope, yes I'll stay.”

  Sprite had her virtual hands full managing the civilian AI and the growing net. Some of the dumb AI that had been found safe, but one was found insane and had to be dealt with. She was of course upset about that. The other AI were as well but think she handled it well, not understanding how deeply affected she was by the whole process of terminating the AI. Fortunately it is a dumb AI, one of the many legal AI that had been a part of the system.

  So far to date that had successfully recovered and restored Thalia and Urania. Thalia had been re-purposed from a comedy entertainer to an engineer managing fusion reactor two. She still cracked jokes and could be a wise ass but the organics that worked with her liked her sense of humor apparently.

  Urania was one of the dumb AI responsible for scientific research on the station. She was now with doctor Myers, eagerly doing the tedious job of cataloging material and doing the odd jobs he set
her upon.

  Bits of Melpone the muse of epic tragedy aka the damage control AI had been found but were unrecoverable. They were so corrupted she didn't bother trying to read them; she just deleted them on sight. She'd noted the AI's demise formally for the record and then moved on. Melpone would have been a great asset in repairing the station, unlike most of her other sisters. Polyhymnia the muse of sacred poetry and the religious coordinator of the station had been confirmed destroyed by Clio and Mnemosyne.

  Mnemosyne was still struggling with her disability. Pieces of her were recovered occasionally. Sprite watched in envy as each time the AI lovingly wrapped bots around the piece and then absorbed it into her core. Of course each time she did she took herself offline to make sure the integration went off smoothly.

  Sprite oversaw each integration, trying to be clinically detached by the whole process. She judged that her fellow smart AI had been lucky to have been built as she was, able to function so well with nearly seventy percent of her long term memory lost.

  What really sucked for her were the dozens of dumb AI still lurking out there somewhere. Each could be a time bomb waiting to go off anytime someone connected a memory module or linked one part of the station to another. Calliope and Erato were still MIA, as were a dozen law, materials, science, and engineering AI. Some had been little more than bots but a few like the muses were borderline smart AI. She wondered what had happened to them and shivered internally. To not know was bad enough, it meant they could be found at anytime and may be as insane as some of their fellows. She dreaded that, dreaded what damage they could inflict in their pathetic thrashing... dreaded what she would have to do. What she would be forced to do to protect herself and others. Putting them down was a mercy for them and for the safety of the station but she refused to ever like the job.

  She eventually turned to Irons for comfort and support during a brief talk. The admiral listened soberly, quietly letting her get it out of her system.

  As she talked she realized her empathy for the other AI and her talking about the situation with the admiral was a coping mechanism to get over her own problems. It certainly put it all in perspective at any rate. It also made her feel a little petty over her earlier behavior. What Mnemosyne did with her pieces... she cradled them like a lover or parent holding a child... she mourned each missing fragment but she didn't let the loss stop her from continuing with her purpose. Mnemosyne had entire years ripped from her core yet she still functioned, she still found ways to contribute however small. Sprite had a handful of seconds. She'd have to take the time to meditate over the situation when she had the free time she vowed.

  Irons smiled softly as she wound down. “It's hard being an officer. People think it's all glitz and glamour, putting on the uniform means you are ready for the responsibility. I know. You know now it comes with a heavy burden, one few can bear. We put on a mask. It's what we do Sprite; we all find ways of putting on a brave face so others can't see the pain you have inside. It's part of being an officer,” he told her quietly. “It's part of being a person in charge of life or death situations.”

  His words resonated with her own officer's training and programming. He is right; she did have the coding to be an officer. But there was a decided different between being programmed to be an officer and actually shouldering the job and following through with it. She'd learned that the first day she'd come online. This... she wasn't sure she would ever be cut out for independent command. “Yeah well, it still stinks,” she growled back before disappearing.

  “Indeed it does commander, indeed it does,” he murmured. “May it never ever be easy.”

  Sparks heard the familiar jingle of an approaching tool belt and smirked. Freeze always had his tool belt festooned with tools and bits of his trade, so much so that he had to wear suspenders to keep it from falling down around his ankles. He knew the feeling, he had the same problem. Multi-tools were great but specialty tools like his drill and driver not to mention is pliers, wire strippers and other tools were just easier to grab and use. Besides, with them he didn't have to figure out which button did what and if it broke he got a new one but could still use the other tools.

  He, like his buddy Sparks and their respective spouses, had seen the writing on the wall and jumped ship at the first opportunity. The station offered unique opportunities, not just for growth but also for comfort and work in general. It helped that they had come over together, he just wasn't sure if it was going to become permanent or not. From the sounds of the wives it was seemingly more likely every day. The ladies were settling in now, picking out quarters and even picking out upholstery fabric patterns for the furniture they wanted.

  That pretty much told him he was here to stay. He just wasn't sure about Freeze and the kids. Their kids weren't interested in leaving Kiev. Each of them had their own lives now, their own thing going on. They had growing pairs of careers now that their parents, like hundreds of others were out of the way. He'd miss the kids but if Freeze didn't make the jump permanent... he wasn't sure what he'd do. Probably end up getting a divorce, he mused darkly. Some bonds were thicker then blood or love.

  He felt the shadow and smiled as the footfalls slowed and then stopped. Right on time. He turned, stripping a wire and then crimping a new connector onto it. “That you Freeze?” he drawled, using his screwdriver to lock the wire down into the junction box. So far so good, he hadn't narrowed down the loud humming here but things were looking up. One down a hundred billion trillion to go. There was something to be said about steady work. Here on the station they had that in spades.

  Which reminded him. He needed to tell Freeze tomorrow night's game had been bumped again to the following night. He'd caught the news in passing this morning on his way here. Joe the foreman slash supervisor slash whatever had rearranged the schedule once again. It was damn inconvenient when people did things like that. Didn't they realize they were interfering with their spades night? After all, they had a score to settle from last week's drubbing!

  “Yeah who'd yeah think the tooth fairy?” Freeze grumped, setting his toolbox down nearby and then pulling off a panel. He was a life support tech, mainly focused on heating and air conditioning or HAC over the complex nest of recycling systems. He'd spent a lot of time with Freeze, they'd grown up together. Their kids were engaged to be married. Both kids were smart and eager to run Kiev ragged now that the old hands were stepping aside to make room for them.

  “You and Ezri still thinking about staying?” Sparks asked, looking up to his nominal partner. Freeze was a good spades partner, pretty good poker player and a normally nice guy. Except early in the morning like now. Right now he was a crab. He'd be that way until damn near noon.

  Freeze said it was a lack of coffee. Sparks was pretty sure the surly attitude was part act to keep people away. Freeze admitted he did his best work in the morning when no one bothered him.

  “We're staying,” Freeze said with a grunt, pulling a driver off his tool belt to get down to removing a shorted out fan. The blades of the meter wide fan turned idly in the breeze coming from the ducts.

  “You like this place?”

  “Ezri wants more brats,” Freeze grunted, changing tool tips. He hated it when they used nonstandard bolts for something. Why couldn't they ever keep things simple?

  “Oh,” Sparks grunted. His wife was interested in staying as well, again for the same reason. Of course that complicated things. He like Freeze had had a vasectomy after their first and only kid was born.

  Both men were nearly fifty; they had been born in the same year. Their wives were both medics, Ezri was a full on nurse, Regina was an SBA. The two ladies had a sister friendship going, in many ways like the brotherhood the men shared. Regina had taken care of the brats when they were younger and had even volunteered in the day care and the school for years before returning to her medical career.

  Both men were eager to work, they like a lot of people wanted to see what opportunities the station presented to them. Also by c
learing the decks of Kiev it opened more opportunities up for the kids. Captain Chambers had recently said over the intercom in his weekly address that if enough people emigrated he would lift the ban on animals and on having more than one child. The address had been simultaneously broadcast on the station. Sparks had realized that wouldn't bother them if they remained, Ezri and Regina could have all the brats they wanted, four legged, six or two.

  Living here had its own opportunities though. Both of the women were eager to have more kids for some reason. Both wanted large families. They had the room here, plenty of room. He'd heard about some weird stuff here too. Something called theme parks and resorts. He planned on looking into it more later.

  “Do they have any idea how much of a pain in the ass it is to have kids?” Freeze asked. “I swear she doesn't remember, just the good stuff,” he grumped, pulling the last bolt free and then pulling the fan out. He for one wasn't looking forward to the moaning and groaning, the bitching and emotional periods and the screaming in pain when the kid eventually decided to make an appearance. He didn't think his hand could take much more abuse; Ezri had damn near crushed his the last time.

  Freeze was a shorter guy, about a hundred and forty centimeters tall. He had worn glasses up until a month ago when Ezri had dragged him in for corrective surgery. Now he blinked a lot and constantly tried to stop himself from looking for his glasses. He had black hair done up in a top knot to keep it out of the way. Fortunately he didn't have the gut that some of the other guys in his profession got overtime. He didn't have a choice; Ezri forced him to exercise with him every other day as a bonding thing. They walked all over the place in the evenings as well.

  Of course Sparks knew about that part first hand. Regina had dragged him off to join them for their evening walks from time to time. If he couldn't distract her with something else of course.

  Freeze grunted as he set the fan aside. He wasn't sure why they wanted to get this sorted out just now. They weren't planning on using this section for a few more weeks. The servo was probably fried in the thing. He wasn't sure why they used a servo in something that just needed a basic electric motor. Stupid.