Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer)

by Hechtl, Chris

  Warner held out a holographic hand and then stopped. "I can't shake your hand anymore but well, I can do this." He came to attention and saluted.

  His wife did with him. Irons instinctively dropped his duffel and came to attention and returned the salute.

  "Are you two willing to take on one more assignment?" he asked amused. He hadn't been sure this opportunity would present itself. He wasn't sure how they would handle it but he had to try.

  "Sir?" Lieutenant Warner asked cautiously.

  The admiral straightened, looking at both of them with his hands behind his back. "You two were never formally discharged from the military. I can do that now, or..."

  Rasha glanced at her husband and then back to the admiral. "Or?"

  The admiral smiled slightly. "Or I can transfer you to the reserves. That will allow you authority over the military hardware I've left in system until someone of higher rank comes along." He had the refinery and a few bits here and there he'd left behind. Then there was the Kiev refinery. Both refineries would still be shipping their fuel to the station so someone had to look after his interests and the interests of Kiev.

  They exchanged looks. The ensign nodded and smiled. Warner cleared his virtual throat and nodded, eyes going to Irons. "We'll take it sir,” he said formally.

  "Good. You are both hereby transferred to the reserve as of this moment," he said with a nod. They saluted again. He sent a mental command to his implants. Codes transferred to the Warners. Now they would have access to military hardware in the system. He'd left a few things here and there. Hopefully it would help.

  What he was really doing was covering a base. He hoped that in time they could find a derelict warship and gain access to it somehow. Apparently Pyrax had been a graveyard of ships, Antigua didn't have many, but maybe... just maybe they'd get lucky.

  "Good luck and goddess speed admiral," Warner said.

  "Fair shores and smooth sailing," Rasha said smiling again.

  Irons nodded. "To you both as well. Good luck in this endeavor.” He gave a nod to the others drifting behind them. The Berkhearts and Stewards were in the front, Averies and Dr. Trask behind them. "To the rest of you as well," he said gruffly then stepped through the hatch and was gone. There was one last good bye to get over with.

  “Admiral, thank you for seeing me,” Hishina Fu said as Irons entered the virtual world. He paused, watching cherry blossoms drift in the wind. It was a picture perfect scene, an Asian home complete with rice paper walls and a beautiful mountain. He turned, hearing the gently burble and occasional slap of wood. A fountain was nearby, filling with water and then tipping to unload into a basin below. It was a Shishi Odoshi, a simple bamboo device used to frighten deer away from manicured gardens but later the sound and motion was considered an element of change and the passage of time. It's occasional thump and burbling were somehow soothing.

  Irons was pretty sure the simulation was taking up quite a lot of memory and processing. It was quite realistic, right down to the fabrics and fluids. If he didn't know any better he would be confused about reality. He wasn't sure if it was a recreation of their old home or if it was a restored file.

  “Quite nice,” Irons said politely. “Very peaceful,” he said. Hishina Fu didn't say anything. The woman indicated the wooden steps to the house. He followed her and then stopped at the door. Her wooden sandals had disappeared. He took his virtual shoes off in a show of proper etiquette, setting them outside and then stepping onto the hardwood floor.

  Mrs. Fu paused when he did, looking back at him. She smiled at his effort of diplomacy and then looked at her husband. Her husband had paused in his meditation, raised an eyebrow and then snorted softly. One hand played with his long beard.

  Mrs. Fu indicated the seat across from her husband. When Irons was seated in a kneeling position she bowed and left them.

  “You respect the old ways,” Yan Fu murmured, stroking the beard. He hadn't expected that. He'd expected the gaijin to just barge in, make a scene and then leave. The difference humbled him. He truly had underestimated and misjudged the man.

  “I've been to old Earth a few times,” Irons replied. He wondered if they had planned a tea ceremony or something. He didn't have the time or inclination to participate in such matters. He had come here as a courtesy.

  “You are leaving,” Fu said. It wasn't a question; it was a statement of fact. One apparently Fu was no longer happy about. Irons wondered what had changed in the cyber.

  “Indeed,” Irons replied, keeping his face neutral.

  Fu continued to stroke the beard but something in his manner made him look uncomfortable. “I wish you would change your mind,” he said. “We were not meant to be enemies. I realize that now.”

  “Took you long enough,” Sprite said to Irons. He ignored the jibe.

  Yan Fu continued. “You did well here. I never properly thanked you for what you have done.”

  The admiral didn't nod but his right index finger twitched. “I am an engineer. It's what we do. Making things right. I didn't do it for thanks. I did it because it was the right thing to do.”

  “And your mind is closed to remaining,” Fu murmured.

  The admiral recognized the trap for what it was. A subtle dig at him for not going with the majority, for not keeping an open mind and conforming. He however had an easy counter argument. “I am not the only one who's mind has closed to possibilities. You and I both know I have helped. I cannot help those who have already made up their minds and closed them to my help. I have done what I can. My mind is opening to new opportunities elsewhere that is all. It is a big galaxy.” He smiled politely, waiting.

  “And yet you leave us unfinished,” Fu said. His shoulders stiffened at the mention of closed minds. The admiral had a way of turning his own words against him. A worthy man indeed, a master in his own way. He'd finally taken the time to research the admiral after the admiral had pointed out his own education. He hadn't known the admiral was a martial arts master. His own prejudicial thoughts turned to the martial side immediately, but as it turned out the admiral had learned many of the other founding philosophies as well.

  Irons looked at him patiently. He studied the avatar of Yan Fu. There wasn't a hint of defiance or anger. No malice. Strangely there was something there, submission. He wouldn't meet the admiral's eyes. He looked cowed, beaten. That in itself was unusual the admiral realized. Perhaps he had thought of what was to come and didn't like it? Had a change in heart?

  “I leave your fate in your own hands as I should,” he said politely, breaking the silence. “As you insisted I should.”

  “We are not ready. I realize that now,” Fu said quietly.

  The admiral smiled internally at that admission. “It is a mark of maturity that you have realized that,” the admiral replied quietly after a long moment. “You have chafed and rebelled despite my attempts to help and guide you. I understand the analogy now, the parental one the Berkhearts had pointed out to me months ago. They tried to get me to see it from that perspective and change my priorities in accordance to that view. You yourself pointed it out to me. I have been a parent. A parent must step back and allow his child to grow and stand on his own feet. To let them fall if they will, and learn to pick themselves up once they have. To learn for themselves just how the universe truly works. It is a cold hard lesson but it is one that must be learned by stepping aside. I am doing that here.”

  Fu didn't say anything, just stroked his beard some more. Irons... he was humbled again. The admiral truly was a master. He was also determined to leave; words would not sway him from the path he had chosen. “Will you return?” he finally asked.

  The admiral shifted slightly in a slight shrug. “I don't know where the winds of fate and time will take me. Perhaps. Then again, perhaps not. The fates will take me where they may; I am but a leaf in their wind.”

  Fu bowed slightly, completely undone. “Spoken as a true master,” he said, voice shaking slightly.

  Irons di
dn't say anything, he just waited patiently. The hand stroking the beard stopped and shook a little. He wasn't sure if it was theater or not. “Your ship is ready to depart?” Fu finally asked.

  “It is. I am on my way out bound now,” he said with a slight nod. “I'll have to cut this short. The time lag will become a problem shortly.”

  Yan Fu nodded. “Indeed. We, I, wish you well admiral. Good luck and Godspeed. You go with our thanks and our sincere apology for our behavior.”

  “Thank you,” Irons said, bowing. He stood and bowed again as the old man made a dismissive wave of a hand.

  “Go. And good luck.”

  “I'm an engineer. We make our own,” Irons replied and left.

  "So, he really did it. Talk about holding a grudge,” Shandra said shaking her head and setting the wine glass down. She'd half expected Irons to go, but she hadn't been sure. She had hoped that the admiral would sulk for a bit and then set up shop somewhere in the system away from the others and build something or other. Apparently it was not to be.

  Men and their pride, she mused, watching the icon of the little ship retreat towards the jump point. Always the pride with them. Speaking of men and their pride... She looked over her shoulder to see the main display holo of the admiral's ship departing the station. “I told you so,” she said turning to her husband.

  "Petulance," Jeff Randall said grudgingly, shaking his head as he set his own glass down. The election was scheduled for next week. He was a shoe in for the governorship. The polls had him with a clear double digit lead over the competition. His competitors were already making noises about an appropriate cabinet position if they threw their support his way. He was letting them stew for the moment. Some of the muckraking they had done in the press had really rankled him.

  His staff was making the most hay out of the admiral's hasty retreat as they could but the opposition members were starting to point out how he'd run an honorable man, a man who has done a great deal for everyone and they had instead slapped him and then ran him out of town. An undercurrent of resentment for the underdog had changed hands. It was starting to sink in that he'd run a decent man, the man responsible for their new Renaissance out of the system. The architect of their bright new future. His staff people said they were on top of that but he was pretty sure it wasn't going to work out well. Spin control never worked the way you hoped or planned when it was against you. Not when the people knew you were spinning something.

  It was easier when he was the underdog and Irons was the authority to rail against. But many were pointing out that Irons never exercised that authority. He had never been a tyrant even though Randall had been quick to label him as such. It was annoying how fickle the media was, first piling it on and now turning on him.

  Sandra shook her head mournfully. "It's not petulance when you're slapped down repeatedly and told to heel like a dog. He's a grown man, set in his ways. He's used to getting things done his way or the navy way, which is tantamount to the same thing. It's both pride and common sense. He's getting out to find something else."

  "I..." Randall grimaced, clearly irritated. He knew better than to take that irritation out on his wife. It galled him that she was right. He should be used to it by now he mused; she was normally right after all.

  "I don't feel right about this. We shouldn't be allowing him to leave. He's the key to everything," he grumbled. He realized that now. Irons had vision, he had the ability to not only see the big picture but actually put the pieces in motion to get what he wanted done. And what he had done in the past six and a half months! He realized that now. He also knew now that Irons had all the replicator keys. All of them, or at least all that mattered. He was a master key, the only one left in the universe. Damn the man for his short sighted over weening pride!

  "You're damn right he is! He holds the keys to unlock all the ancient tech. All of it. Everything. You should have seen that sooner, but you were too blind to it. Too short sighted,” his wife said hugging him.

  He glared at her. She glared right back. She wasn't about to back down, no matter how many titles he had or was about to have. He admired her all the more for it. "You know I'm telling the truth Jeff," she growled eyes flashing dangerously.

  "I know," he sighed, shaking himself. He didn't need a marital spat. Especially when he was on the losing side. He also didn't need the opposition hearing about it. He tried to hide a mental snort. She was usually right anyway. He'd just taken his time seeing it this round. Now that he was getting a handle on what the governorship really entailed he had come to realize how badly they needed Irons. He didn't want to admit that he should have listened to the man. "It's just..." he started to explain. He knew it was futile though. He was explaining to someone who already knew.

  "We couldn't stop him if we'd tried. And you did try remember that? The court thing was..."

  He grimaced, running a hand through his hair. That had blown up in his face. He'd thought the judge would have seen reason. So much for that idea. The man had stubbornly clung to the letter and spirit of the law. He had to grudgingly admit that was probably a good thing for the long term. Grudgingly though, he still was uncomfortable about admitting he had been in error. "I wish he had more patience," he growled.

  She threw her head back and laughed. He looked at her in surprise. Her eyes caught his and sparkled as she smiled a little. "Patience? He's a Fleet Admiral of the Federation silly! You don't get there by many short cuts and by being impatient me bucko! He's got patience by the bucket load! He put in his time at each rank, rising on his merit and earning his titles. Eighty years in the navy, seventy as an officer. No, he knows a losing hand when he sees one and isn't willing to throw good money after bad and waste his time."

  "What do you mean?" Randall asked, pursing his lips.

  She rolled her eyes. "Come on honey, you're not normally this dense and stupid. I didn't marry a moron. You and I know he was telling the truth about the pirates. When they hear about this," she waved to indicate the station.

  "When people hear about this they will come in droves. They'll come to get their ships fixed, To buy new ships or tech, for work, for a quick credit, and for a taste of civilization as it once was. A golden euphoria. A new golden age. A real El Dorado.” She shivered a little, hugging him tighter. “When word gets about eventually the pirates will pick up on it. And when they do they too will come. Come for that station. Come with missiles and guns."

  "So?" he said dubiously. “We've done fine without it. The station isn't needed. We can do fine with the defensive system on the planet.”

  "So? So?" she asked shaking her head mournfully. She shook him gently. "So you ninny there goes our golden goose,” she said waving a hand to indicate it going away. “Our ticket to a better future. Remember that?" she demanded, tone softening as she wrapped her arms around him and looked up into his eyes. "When you and I sat under the stars as kids and talked about how we would make a difference? When we wanted to rebuild civilization? Not just for ourselves but for our children? Remember Ramona and Kylie? Our daughters?" she asked, voice softening.

  Randall rumbled a sigh, not able to hold her gaze. What she said was true but it had been something they had said in their youth, something... a dream. Now that dream could become a reality. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on her head and stroked her arms. "You're right," he said softly after a moment. "You're right," he sighed. He felt the anger leave him.

  "Of course I am, you should know that by now,” she said, smiling at him as he looked at her once more. He snorted at the twinkling eyes and smile as he gently stroked her cheek. “Irons was never an obstacle. He was an ally. You should have seen that from the beginning Jeff. If you'd tucked him in your corner he would have pulled out a lot of stops for you."

  "I know," he murmured, rubbing his temples with his fingertips. After all it had been the admiral who had gotten the collection of mayors off their fat asses and moving towards a constitutional convention, and now the government they wer
e about to form. He'd tried for years to do that and none of them had budged since he was so young. It was because of him that the station was there in orbit now! He'd done it all and he realized now that all they had given him was heart ache and a kick in the teeth. He squirmed away from the mental imagery, uncomfortable with the truth.

  "I know but it's too late now," he shook his head and clasped his hands together. “Even if we had managed to stop him with Phoenix all he had to do was get a berth on a ship leaving the system. We've pissed him off pretty good, poisoning the well like you said. He won’t come back even if we wanted him to. Even if I got on my knees, ate crow and begged him to.”

  She looked thoughtful. "Don't be too sure,” she said slowly. “There aren't many places like us, and as you said, he is a practical man. He's experienced in politics, he knows politicians. He knows times change and heal all wounds. He may come back. Hopefully he does. And where ever he goes, I think he'll do his best to help people. People that may one day work with us."

  "I hope so," he said softly. Together they watched the holo of the golden ship moving off to the jump point and the future.

  “Think they'll be okay?” Sprite asked softly as the Admiral went through the hyperspace check list one last time. Phoenix was shaking down quite nicely. She had remarkably few bugs to iron out in their little shakedown. It had taken less than a day to cross the system for the jump point. She was a fast little ship, faster than the bumbling freighters they had traveled on for the past year.

  “I think they need to learn for themselves,” he replied, not looking up from the report he was scanning. He'd gotten plenty of downtime, a full twelve hours of sleep for what was about to happen. He would need it; he'd have to con the ship on his own for the whole trip to the next system. Sprite might spell him for brief periods but they'd have to see about that. She'd never actually conned a ship before.