Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) (108 page)

“Gov?”
Sprite asked amused. “British? In this time period?”

“Some
things transcend time and space Sprite,” he said, amused as well. “Sitrep?”

“I'm
setting up the banking system now admiral.” Sprite hadn't been sure about this
last bit. Fortunately someone in the local banking industry had picked up some
computers and was using them.

“I
meant the station.”

“Oh
that?” She sounded distracted. He frowned as he dodged a cart load of luggage.
Smog was everywhere, forming a haze all over the station. “The gas giant
refineries are working like clockwork. There is a load in transit now. Eta
twenty nine and a half hours.” He had negotiated the building of the Kiev plant
for the first two months of fuel from it. It wasn't like they were going to
miss it after all; the ship was out of the system and wouldn't be back for
nearly a year.

“Do
we need to be on hand for it?”

“A
little late to ask now admiral don't you think?” Sprite asked.

“Sprite...”
he sighed.

“No,
she's good. Warner's have it covered. The crews on the station are falling into
routine.”

“Good.”

“Admiral,
there, okay, it's set up I think.”

“You
think?” he asked.

“We'll
know in a minute,” she said as he slowed. The crush of bodies was stalled by a
narrow turn style bottleneck. He sighed softly. This was definitely going to
take some time. He was glad now he didn't have a hard appointment time.

"Admiral
what in the spirit of space is that?" Sprite demanded as they broke away
from the pack a half hour later. He looked up at the whistle and smiled, turning
to the iron behemoth nearby. He of course recognized it right away. Any
engineer worth his salt would.

"Checking
database..." Sprite said. Images flickered in a window on his upper right.

He
grinned, eyes tracing the lines of the behemoth. "Don't bother Sprite,
that is a steam locomotive," he said feeling a little like a kid again. He
was grinning and couldn't help it. His practiced eyes traced the familiar yet
alien lines. They'd followed the classic lines; she had a boiler, smoke stack
and even a cow catcher on the bow. He took another look, studying the train
tracks. She was using the original tracks as well as add ons. Smart.

"Why
would anyone use such an archaic piece of technology? That pile of scrap iron
belongs in a museum!" Sprite said with some heat.

He
snorted in amusement. Sprite may think it was antiquated but he thought it was
fascinating. It also showed him that these people didn't just sit and watch,
they did things. They didn't moan about not having the tools, they went back
and reinvented what they could. "Maybe from where we come from, but for
this time period it's what they have available. They can't replicate what they
need so they bootstrapped it the hard way." He even noted a steam
governor. Good he thought with a nod of approval. They thought of safety and
efficiency as well.

"A
locomotive. Designed to haul goods and materials along a linear track?"
she demanded.

"Yes
Sprite," he replied amused. His lips puckered in another smile at her
tone.

"It's
very inefficient. And it pollutes," she finally said as he continued to
look the machine over.

The
admiral nodded grudgingly. "It's extremely energy inefficient you mean.
Also slow compared to modern transportation methods. but it can be readily
built by the local population out of materials on hand and doesn't rely on
technology they don't have."

"Fascinating,"
Sprite said dryly.

"Actually
it is. If you notice the track, it's actually not the typical design." He
went over to the edge of the platform and studied the track and train. The black
and red train had two sets of wheels to propel it. Eight were on the outside,
riding on the outer two rails. It looked like... he ducked and peeked between
wheels, ignoring the puffs of escaping steam. Yes, there were another broader
set of wheels running down the center of the locomotive. He wasn't sure how the
linkage was done. He looked at the piston. It was solid, the cylinder coated in
brass, probably to keep it from rusting from the constant contact with water
and steam.

He
checked the... truck he thought to himself as he looked. Yes, the four wheeled
contraption under each end of the cars was called a truck. From the looks of it
they each had six wheels instead of the usual four. Four on the outside yes,
but two broad inner ones connected to the axle on the inside on the middle
rail. From the look of it these wrapped... ah.

He
scanned it then straightened and pulled up his recording. Ah yes, not two inner
wheels, but some sort of armature that had smaller wheels. The armature hugged
the inner rail, and it looked like smaller wheels were on the inside edge
hugging the vertical part of the T shape. Or riding on the underside of the top
bar.

All
in all it was a fascinating piece of engineering. The crew were busy refueling
it. From the look of it the machine took gallons of water along with what
looked like tons of coal.

"Steam
locomotive. Simple boiler arrangement. The steam pressure is used in the
pistons. They need a better governor though," he said.

"How
do you know these things?" Sprite asked amused.

"I
saw one and checked the engineering out when I was a kid. Did a report on the
tech when I was six," the admiral replied watching the crew work. They had
corduroy coveralls on and the class blue hat of the train worker. The conductor
was dressed in a brown suit. The engineer had a red ascot tied around his neck.
He took it off to wipe at his sweaty face and then waved impatiently to the
conductor.

"Oh.
That explains it," she said amused.

"The
track... that's interesting." The track had three rails. Two outer ones
and an inner wide monorail in the shape of a T. The monorail was iron and wood,
but shaped like a modern monorail. He'd seen the design before in mass transit
in his travels. "I bet this can run on the old network. The subway
network," he said. “If it still exists.”

"Possibly,"
Sprite said sounding doubtful. "I'd hate to be in it."

"I
don't think we have a choice Sprite," he said as the man in the brown
uniform, a conductor or assistant waved a lantern in one hand and waved to
people to board with his free hand.

"All
aboard!" he yelled, cupping his free hand to his mouth. Irons winced.

"Aren't
we getting on?" Sprite asked.

"I
believe we need a ticket," he said looking around.

"I
can access... or not," Sprite said sounding vexed. "No electronic links,
no electronic banking," she said sounding disgusted.

"But
there is a booth," he said walking to the nearest counter. The freckle
faced red headed girl on the other side looked at him with a bored expression.

"Destination?"
she asked.

"The
capital, um Doonburg?" he said uncertainly.

"That'll
be twenty two fifty."

"Credit?"
he asked hopefully.

She
pushed a keypad his way. "Knock yourself out," she said, face resting
on one fist.

He
looked at it and then touched the pad.

"You
new here?" she asked suspiciously.

"Just
got here actually," he said, jerking his thumb to the nearby space port.

"You'll
need to set up a bank account then," she said shaking her head. She looked
over his shoulder to the next in line as she pulled the pad away.

"I
already did," he said, pulling it back.

"Then
enter your account number then the pin."

He
looked down at the pad. That was a recent addition as well. Someone was on the
ball, picking up electronics from the station and putting them to immediate
use. "Um...."

"Put
your finger over the pad admiral," Sprite said. He did so. He felt a
tingle of data flow through him. She must have been using his nanites to
establish a connection. After a moment the girl blinked at her screen.

"What
did you do? You didn't type anything?" she said eyes narrowed.

He
held up his finger and blew on it. "Implants, got to love them." He
smiled at her expression.

"Implants?"
she asked wrinkling her nose.

"Long
story. Can I have my ticket?" he asked as more people started to line up
behind him. From the sounds behind him they were restless.

"Sure
sure," she ripped off a ticket from the roll and handed it to him.
"Keep the stub on you or they'll toss you off. They'll check the tickets
when you're on the move."

"Thanks
miss," he said amused, stepping away and holding the paper stubs.
"Fascinating," he said walking to the boarding ramp of the nearest
car.

"Not
that one sonny, the end one. This one's full up," An assistant said in the
doorway, pushing him gently back with his hand up.

"Sure,
sorry, didn't know," he said. he watched over his shoulder as the man
closed the accordion gate in the doorway.

"Huh,"
he said getting in line for the last car.

"Like
a nightmare," Sprite said. "Hurry up and wait."

"Public
transport usually is," he muttered.

"Who
you talking to boy?" A voice asked behind him.

He
turned to an old woman. "I haven't been called a boy in ninety years
ma'am," he said amused.

She
blinked at him, eyes wide. "You pulling my leg sonny?" she demanded,
poking him with her mahogany cane.

The
admiral shook his head wryly. "Not at all ma'am, I've had a long life.
Just woke up to rejoin the galaxy actually."

"Oh
one of dem dare sleepers?" she asked with a sniff.

He
nodded. "Yes ma'am."

"Come
on gran gran we're late!" A young boy said waving impatiently. A young
Veraxin chittered with him. His four legs skittered on the wooden floor.

"Here,"
Irons said stepping aside.

"Why
thank ye kindly sir," The grandmother said, craggy face breaking into a
toothless grin. He nodded politely as she seemed to curtsey and step forward.

"And
the wait gets even longer," Sprite said. He snorted.

Irons
followed the Veraxin aide into the office several hours later and then sat down
in the indicated chair. He took a cup of coffee from the tray nearby and sat
back in the high backed chair.

The
trip across town from the train station to the mayor's office in the center of
the large town had been an interesting experience. The town was a mix of
periods, mostly something called steamer punk. The architecture of the
buildings, some embedded into the cliff walls lining one side were a mix of
Victorian brick mortar and wood in the nineteenth North American style.
Functional certainly but quaint.

The
people were much the same in appearance. Most of the women, the Terran women at
any rate, were dressed in long dresses of various colors. Some had parasols,
others canes. Most of the men were dressed in various outfits ranging from
western cowboy to simple white shirt, suspenders and slacks. For the men Brown
or black tended to be the primary choice for colors of most of their clothes
other than their shirts.

Here
and there he could see technology creeping into their daily living however. For
instance there was a large LCD screen and a holo emitter just below the clock
face of the city hall. A pair of workers had been studiously watching another
replace lantern lights with LED's. That must have been new; he hadn't known
they had that. The screen was showing the news broadcast from the station.
Interesting, the admiral thought moving on.

Jeff
Randall was certainly everything Sprite said he was the admiral thought,
returning his attention to the here and now. He was a player, suave, and
distinguished from the look of him. He was a trim and fit one point eight meter
tall man, in his early thirties like Sprite had said with a lot of life and
energy in his eyes. He had on a nicely tailored brown business suit, a bit
archaic, but functional and formal. He even had a stately top hat hanging from
a coat rack standing in the corner. This man knew his office and dressed for
success.

They
had shook hands and exchanged pleasantries when he had entered but he felt that
Randall was a bit uncomfortable about being bearded in his own layer by the
admiral. Good Irons thought with a mental smile. It felt good for someone else
to be off balance for once.

His
host looked at him and then shook his head. "Admiral shouldn't you be on
the station rebuilding it?" the mayor asked.

The
admiral spread his hands. "Even I need a break from time to time mister
mayor. And I sometimes take the time to look around and speak with
people."

Mayor
Randall nodded. "Still it's a major project. I would think you would be
focusing your efforts there." That sounded a great deal like both a rebuke
and a dismissal.