Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer)

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Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) Page 72

by Hechtl, Chris


  Fife loved his pistols and was always messing with them. Course the deputy was a bit accident prone... he'd stunned his own foot twice since they had gotten here. Been damn funny seeing it, seeing the clueless deputy topple over like a tree, but it hadn't done the deputy's reputation any good. He'd have to work on that.

  “Minor injuries so far. Most of it is scare tactics stuff,” Sprite answered. She shot him the full file. He had first level implants now but was still struggling to use them.

  “Ah. You know who's involved?” he buffed the outside casing, frowning at a minor scratch.

  “They aren't leaving a trail sometimes but I've got some clues. Some of it is definitely by a cyber and I know some have alibis.”

  “Really?” Derrango raised an eyebrow. Process of elimination wasn't something he usually went by. He preferred live witnesses.

  “The Berkhearts were in a conference, the Fu's were in their meditation compound....” He held up a hand as she started to go through the list.

  “Shoot me the list. I'll talk to them on my own. Consider this my department's concern.”

  “Okay,” she said reluctantly.

  “As you said, it's more of a prank. But pranks tend to get out of hand even if the people involved didn't mean them to. I'll have a chat. Whoever is doing it will see me sniffing and will probably lay low for a bit,” he drawled.

  “Thanks sheriff,” she said. It wasn't exactly the response she wanted but it would have to do.

  Savo taught the self defense and martial arts class on top of his duties as a deputy. He hadn't been happy that the security force was so up in the air. Some were transferring over to the sheriff's department, and the security force was now put on guard duty almost exclusively. He was now considering changing over as well.

  He scanned the class. “Nana Korobi Yaoki, seven times fall, eight times get up!” He paced back and forth as his student opponent struggled to her feet. Savo wore a standard white gi and wasn't thrilled about teaching basic self defense but Petunia and Irons had talked him into it. This was definitely going to be his last class for basic; some of these people were just clueless.

  He knew damn well Petunia had put him up to it to keep him out of the bars on the station. Ralphie was probably glad; he hadn't busted any of his furniture or had a brawl since he'd come over to the station. The good thing about the classes was that he taking all his angst out on his students. They didn't seem at all thrilled by that but that was tough for them he thought with a secret grin.

  “There are three steps in self defense. One don't get hit. Two hit back. Three get help. We're working on steps one and two, you should be able to figure out step three for yourselves,” he growled.

  There was a snicker of acknowledgment from the class. On his first day Savo had used his simian lungs to scream bloody murder in demonstration.

  “Now remember, if they want something, let them have it. A wallet isn't worth your life. Let the authorities handle it. Unless you are the authorities, then you've got a problem.” He glared up at his students. More than one person had been amused by his small stature until they realized the hard way how much power a primate packed in those tight muscles. A primate was normally ten times stronger than a normal human. Of course the base line human lineage had changed with the advent of genetic engineering... but then again so had the chimps.

  “If you have to apologize, do so. If you have to lose money, don't worry about it, you can get more. But you can't get more if you are dead. And believe me, it's no fun being in the infirmary. Some of those nurses can be downright mean and viscous if you give them a hard time,” he said, giving a wry tight lipped smile of remembered pain.

  Of course that admission caused another round of snickers. He shook his head. “Regular laugh a minute. But here's the thing, the point I was aiming for. Sometimes you have to defend yourselves. Sometimes they want more than just money, they want blood. So block, and Nana Korobi Yaoki. It's Japanese if you're wondering, an ancient proverb Irons taught me and I'm now passing onto you. Look it up, I don't have the time or inclination to explain them all to you.”

  He was not much into the science, more into the grit. Teaching self defense allowed him to screen applicants to the security and police force since it was a mandatory requirement for all applicants.

  Admiral Irons sometimes liked to stop by for a practice bout. When he does things get both physical and interesting. Also painful, Savo thought, rolling his still sore shoulder. Speaking of the devil, he thought as he watched the familiar form of the admiral entering the dojo. He turned and bowed to the admiral. Irons smiled and bowed back.

  “Now, for your personal satisfaction you now get to see me toss the admiral around the mat,” he said as the two circled. The class was backing up a respectful distance. Some were standing, others took a lotus position.

  Irons had a feral grin on his face. “One of us will get tossed around you mean,” he said.

  “Ah shit,” Savo said as their hands began to whirl.

  Sprite seemed smug the next morning. Irons wasn't really up for it, he wasn't sore, just edgy. He took his morning cup of coffee and sat down with a tablet in front of him to read the morning news.

  Now that the station was set up and it's communications were back on line the media was now involved. A few intrepid media outlets had transferred some of their young idea people to the station. Since most of the media was print based on the planet he like a lot of people weren't sure how well the transition would work. After all, the station didn't use nor need newspapers.

  Fortunately one of the electronics techs had caught on to their frustration in the library and had pointed them in the E-book direction. It had taken several days but the set up had been worth it. They still needed a good copy editor but they were doing a bang up job now that they had their feet under them.

  Toni Chambers was currently the only video news outlet on the station. She was harried running from one place to another to cover this or that story or interview. He didn't envy her and he did his level best to avoid her.

  Of course half the news was from the planet right now, the other half was all focused on the station. Most of the local section detailed the various projects ongoing or coming online, with the occasional interview of a person of interest.

  He hadn't been interviewed. He'd considered it, but hadn't been approached yet. That was something to think about right there, Sprite was right. Something was off about that. Normally he had reporters all over him because of his status. He didn't mind not having them, but it was decidedly odd to be ignored. Toni Chambers had attempted once but then had been pulled off by her boss to handle another story.

  “Something on your mind this morning Sprite?” he asked as he took a sip of coffee. It was good to see her a little chipper.

  If anything her smile widened slightly. “I picked up a few more pieces of military equipment. They were going up for auction but I did a swap.”

  “Auction?” Irons asked raising an eyebrow.

  “They have them monthly ground side. I picked up some minor pieces and a hundred tons of milspec computer parts. They are most likely junk but you never know.”

  “True,” Irons replied thoughtfully. “Anything else?”

  “Some milspec replicators that have been initialized. Two small ones, the same make and model as the one in your launch. The auctioneer said they were locked down.”

  Irons made a face. That could mean anything from locked down but still functional to an inert shell. Still it was the thought that counted here.

  “I also picked up some sensors, a marine drop pod, some pieces of army issue armor, and a couple of other things.” She scrolled a list on his HUD. He recognized a few items. A few others he recognized when she brought up an image. Most like the ordinance cart and emergency generator were battered but he could do something about them later.

  “Good,” he said with a nod.

  She made a sour face. “I think they are on to me though, someone was
jacking up the price when I started to bid.”

  “Pattern bidding,” Irons said with a nod.

  She sighed. “I tried to use shell companies but it didn't work.”

  He wasn't sure how the hell she was planning to pay for all this. Hopefully she wasn't charging it to the station account, he had enough headaches. “That means anything else is going to be driven up,” Irons replied with a sigh. “Try to focus your efforts on naval equipment. Specifically if you see any construction equipment let me know.”

  “I'll keep that in mind,” Sprite said making a tick check on a virtual clipboard. “What about ordinance?” she asked looking up.

  He pursed his lips. Most likely the ordinance had shut down and scrammed when it fell into civilian hands. Well, hopefully at any rate. He nodded reluctantly. “Bid on it. Also any ordinance handling equipment, that sort of thing. How old is this stuff anyway?”

  “More than seven hundred years of course,” Sprite said with a smirk. He snorted. “Beyond that?” she asked, shrugging helplessly. “We'll find out when it arrives.”

  “Shipping?”

  “It's taken care of admiral,” she said.

  “And how are you paying for all this?” he asked.

  “Um... well... it's um...”

  He paused, knowing when she was suddenly caught in something she didn't want to admit. “Spit it out commander,” he growled.

  “I sold some information and agreed that you'd do a series of interviews for an exclusive club.”

  “Oh great,” he sighed setting his tablet and cup down in disgust. “And?” he knew there was more to it than that.

  “I... agreed to do some replicating. Nothing illegal. I've been doing it on your off time with your launch.”

  “Oh?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He hadn't been to the launch in some time. He'd serviced it a week or so ago and then left it alone.

  “Parts mostly, though someone wanted a stone Venus statue with their own face on it for some odd reason. It's at the dock waiting to be shipped.”

  “Oh.”

  “No worries admiral,” she said.

  “Sprite I don't mind you branching out and using military hardware to do it since you are getting hardware in return. Just try to keep me in the loop,” he said.

  “Will do,” she said, sounding a little chastened.

  “That being said, good initiative. Next time ask before you involve me though,” he said.

  “I'll try,” she said, smile returning. There was a slight twinkle in her eye. “You know the old rule though...”

  “Old rule?”

  “Better to ask for forgiveness then permission,” she said, smirk widening.

  “Cute,” he said, giving her a tight lipped smile. “Anything else to report?”

  “Not much, the station's doing okay. We've got some issues with reactor four and reactor five's still having issues. I think leaving Riff to his own devices with it might have been premature.” Riff was now chief of power for the station. He was still feeling out the job apparently.

  The admiral shrugged. “He needs to learn. Some people learn best by doing. By making mistakes, digging themselves a hole and then figuring out how the heck to get out of it.”

  “True.”

  “Net?”

  “All quiet. Lieandra's bringing another group in later this afternoon. Kiev's finally got her emitter problems sorted out. I'm doing some work with them so I'll need you to jack in when they get back.”

  “More people. Great,” he said with a head shake. They were finding that only half of the people arriving intended to work. Most wanted to find some scam or get rich quick scheme and then head back to the planet loaded with gold or credits. Quite a few had been stopped trying to loot the station. More than one person had been caught trying to steal or “borrow” a shuttle or tug to go prospecting. It was annoying for some, downright dangerous for those involved. They had no idea what they were getting into.

  Proteus opened the log file for the next replicator they were tasked with bringing online and paused. The time-stamp… the last time-stamp was after the dark time, less than fifty years ago. Apparently Draco had tried to use the replicator, recognized the problem with the control… this wasn’t the first log he’d come across he realized. Defender had done a thorough job of sanitizing Draco’s influence but this… he needed to speak with the admiral.

  “Admiral a moment?” the AI asked.

  “Proteus?” the admiral asked in surprise, sitting up. “Is there a problem?”

  “Of a sorts admiral,” Proteus replied, noting it’s fellow AI attending the conversation. “Black out,” the AI said to Defender.

  The security AI scowled but checked. He flicked a couple bots out of the apartment’s security system and then locked it down. “We’re secure,” he replied after a second.

  “We’ll, you’ve certainly piqued my curiosity,” The admiral said, setting his cup of coffee down. “Care to explain?” he asked.

  “Admiral,” Proteus said. “Sprite, Defender. I have been in the net looking at the logs and have come to a conclusion. The AI Draco was not insane.”

  “That…”

  “Let me finish,” Proteus said, cutting off Defender. “I have compared the civilian AI to Fuentes. Our experience with Fuentes was our first with a technically insane AI. Draco however doesn’t meet the same criteria.”

  The admiral frowned, looking at the three AI on his HUD. Sprite looked sullen and hurt. She glared at Defender. Proteus’s blob bobbed up and down. Defender’s eyes glowed red. “I have proof,” Proteus said opening a file and sharing it with the other AI before opening it for the admiral. “Based on this, Draco was still functional and was fulfilling his function as the station’s primary engineering AI. He was attempting to keep the station functional and was not insane.”

  “A log book is hardly evidence of sanity,” Defender replied.

  “Unfortunately it and the other files and stories the tribes have exchanged and our own interaction with the AI are all we have to go on. Based on that I have to reluctantly conclude that the destruction of the AI was in error.”

  “I…”

  The admiral held up a restraining hand as he scanned the document. He wasn’t sure what Proteus was driving at. The log was a simple entry, Draco had recognized that the replicator was down, cut off from… he paused as it hit him. The AI’s statement was coherent, understandable, in other words logical. There were no emotional overtones in the log, no mistakes, it was clean.

  “I… did not… I…” Defender turned to Sprite. “I apologize Commander, it appears I was in error.”

  “I…” Sprite seemed to swell but then stopped. Irons sucked in a breath and then let it out as she turned accusing eyes on him.

  “The error was mine. I gave the order. I didn’t know at the time. I wish we had reached out, tried to contact and better assess the AI’s sanity but I was afraid that letting the AI know we were here would be dangerous.” He frowned, looking away.

  “They say hindsight is twenty twenty,” The admiral finally said. “And friendly fire is the toughest thing to handle. I think we’re all going to be haunted by this one. Proteus, I thank you. Please file a report. Sprite…”

  “I… yes admiral?” Sprite asked dispirited.

  “It’s not your fault,” he said eyes locked onto hers. She frowned. “I’m serious commander. We went with what we had at the time. Hindsight like I said. Now we know. Please treat any files from Draco as clean not corrupted. Scan them and then use them as needed. Don’t hate me or yourself. I gave the order.”

  “I… Admiral I shouldn’t of been so zealous,” Defender grudgingly admitted.

  The admiral pursed his lips. “Perhaps lieutenant but the damage has been done. The best we can do now is learn from it and move on. Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Agreed,” Sprite said. She turned, eyes shifting. What Proteus had reported had opened up old wounds again. She’d have to think about it.
/>   As the station's interior was repaired more and more businesses became interested in opening up franchises on the station. A few of the industrial corporations sent out exploratory feelers. Some were up and coming sons or daughters wanting to strike it out on their own and prove themselves. Bert Bertoli was one such young man. He'd come up with a couple hundred tons of materials, most of it flour and seasonings. He'd mortgaged his soul to follow this dream.

  He'd had a hell of a time finding people to work for him. It was fairly obvious early on that if he didn't use butler bots for his staff his pizza parlor would never open. Since the admiral was partial to pepperoni pizza he'd helped out, tossing in a couple butler bots and even coming by to repair the heater in the pizza shop's massive oven.

  Bertoli had been so thankful for his generosity he'd offered the admiral a lifetime of free drinks on the house. Irons had chuckled but then shrugged it off.

  Of course Bertoli wasn't having it all his own way. Down the strip a sub shop was about to open for the first time on the station. The sub shop owner was in a friendly competition with Bertoli for now. It would be interesting to see if the competition remained friendly or if it became heated. Or they might just combine their businesses, after all that had been known to happen a few times Irons mused.

  There were other shops opening up, a barber, nail salon, massage parlor, also a butcher shop and a grocery store. The butcher shop and grocery were adjoining... a heated discussion between the would be proprietors a week ago led to each of them knocking holes in the wall... security being called... and then security hastily left while laughing uproariously when the owners passion had overflowed into the bedroom. Now the two were the first couple to get married and were quickly joining their businesses together. Hopefully things wouldn't run the same course when the baker opened up next week.

  Kennet was incensed to find that someone had imported real beef onto the station. He made his protests during the grand opening of the pizza parlor. He was the self appointed representative of the cybers and station council sent to attend the opening.

 

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