Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) (13 page)

It
wasn't as simple as just turning the reactor back on of course, they had to get
it to stabilize and to keep it stable while powering up essential services. The
Ops officer, a Veraxin named Hir'ruk was rather helpful in that regard.

Hir'ruk
had a miser's approach to handling ops, as most good ops officers should. Once
the mains were back online he was busy routing around non essential systems to
bring the life support systems back up to full power.

They
had a few minor blow outs, power overloads to deal with but overall the life
support threat was ended after a half hour. When it was under control the
Veraxin turned his attention to the RCS thrusters and the drive.

Irons
had hoped to have a bit of a break before diving into the repairs. He wanted to
study the situation, study what was and wasn't critical to repair. The crew
however were diving in with unbridled enthusiasm. He now regretted his
suggestion to the chief an hour ago.

There
was one plasma blow out; fortunately it was in the superstructure away from the
inhabited volumes. Barry had a Scarab maintenance boat on its way out to do
repairs. Proteus had routed around the damage but the patch was temporary, the
re-routed stream passed through sections that had poor containment.

“I
want that damage assessment yesterday Barry,” O'Mallory growled over the link.
Her eyes were blood shot. Someone had gotten out stims for the crew but it
didn't look like it had helped her much. Her shoulders were slumped. Several
people had suggested she get some downtime, one tactfully, one not so much.
She'd bitten the heads off of both people and sent them into a chastened
retreat.

Irons
had seen it before, seen people work miracles when under pressure. He'd seen
them pull off all sorts of things when the boss was in a foul mood, mainly to
get out from under the cloud. More than one team had papered over issues just
to get the boss to go to bed. It hadn't helped the situation however.

O'Mallory
had a good team he mused, looking around. She was well trained in people
management and the hardware. She was also well liked, something not all leaders
managed to attain. Liked and respected were two qualities of a good leader,
ones she had apparently. It helped that she, like Irons, liked to get her hands
dirty. Irons snorted softly as O'Mallory wiped her hands on a dirty rag.

She
turned her attention on him and he cocked his head. If she thought she was
going to outlast him she was sadly mistaken. “RCS systems are coming up. Port
side has plasma and is powering up. Ten minutes I believe,” he said, glancing
at the noncom working on that project. The male human looked up and nodded.

“Four
minutes chief. We're sending a trickle stream to power the EPS conduits first.
We don't want another blow out,” he said wiggling his long ears and then
blinking goat eyes. His head was mostly bald. He had a long braid front and
back though. One down his back and his beard was braided. Little bits of
circuitry were braided into the brown hair.

“Lee
good work. Keep me posted,” she nodded to him. The man turned back to his station
and tapped at the controls.

Human
was more of a... not quite state of mind but broad selection since gene grafts
and mods had become available over the past one thousand years making things
really confusing sometimes Irons mused. Now a days the basic human form was
limited, many mods didn't survive or breed after the Xeno war, but some like
this noncom did thrive. Good.

“Barry
what's the hold up?” O'Mallory growled looking up as her hand stabbed down to
the intercom. Irons winced at the attenuation squeal in the reply.

Barry
tried again before he got the gain under control. “Working on it chief. We've
disconnected the boat and we're running post now. We'll be clear of the bay in
a few minutes.”

“Fine,
take your time, we're just leaking plasma all over the void...” she said with a
suffering air. Irons shook his head.

“Chief
we're working on it,” Barry said, sounding testy. O'Mallory's eyes flashed.
“You can't just unhook a boat and power it up after we've been using it as an
auxiliary power source chief. Hell! By rights I should stand her down and do a
full overhaul before we send her out!”

“We
don't have time for that!” the chief said in exasperation, slapping her hand
down against the console.

“You
don't think I don't know that chief? That's why I'm only refueling the bird and
giving it a simple preflight post. Don't get your knickers in a twist, we'll
get it done.”

“Barry...”
O'Mallory growled dangerously.

“Don't
push it chief. You handle the big boat, I handle the little ones remember?”
Barry growled back. “Boat bay clear,” he said with a click as he signed off.

She
sighed and ran a hand through her hair, staring at nothing. Around them the
work continued. Irons caught a few of the crew sneaking glances at each other.

“EVA
techs are on the hull. They've patched the two minor leaks chief,” a tech
reported.

“Good,”
she said. “I'm going on walk about. Keep me posted,” she said walking off.

“Admiral
we need you in your um...”

“My
shuttle?” he asked amused as he turned to the Veraxin tech. The Veraxin nodded.
“Replicator issues?”

“Yes.
We need more plasma conduit and well...”

“The
replicator balked. I know. Do you have the materials on hand?” he asked.

“Yes.
We're um, sort of in a hurry.”

“I
know. I'll get on it,” Irons replied as he got up and walked out.

Irons
scanned through the list and added to it. It was a long list and getting longer
every minute. He considered taking his replicator down to make a copy but
discarded the idea. He could sure, but he was still not happy about the captain
and the crew's actions. Some of them were okay, but he wasn't going to go out
of his way to make life that easy for them. Not after what they had tried to
pull on him.

“I'm
going to the galley. Anyone want anything?” a tech asked. He looked up.

“Hang
on a sec, I'll come with you,” Irons said. He got up and stretched. The tech
looked nonplussed but then shrugged.

“Sure,
this way. Try to keep up old timer,” he said. Irons snorted softly following
along.

They
made their way through the ship. He's surprised by the number of people milling
about. Apparently not many were crew. Nearly half were old or young. Some
looked very old. He'd have to talk with Sprite about doing a demographic later.

The
companionways and hatches were reasonably clean. Here and there he spotted a
crew of elves cleaning. A few of the crew stopped to watch them pass then go
about their business talking quietly. Gossip, figures, Irons thought with a
small smile.

They
picked their way along the companionways, dodging the occasional pedestrian or
piece of equipment. The walls were clean but still stained with stuff.
Apparently solvents were in short supply.

Here
and there he could see the ship was showing her age. Some of the metal fittings
were rusted, some were bent or torn. Bulkhead false panels were cracked. Paint
was peeling. It took a lot of heat or wear to peal that paint, it was normally
bonded to the metal during fabrication.

The
ship was definitely old. Time had definitely not been a friend to her despite
the care the crew had tried to provide. They didn't have the parts, that was
what it really boiled down to. Well, he could help them change that. With the
right material, people, and time they could fix just about anything on this
ship.

He
paused in the galley hatch, losing his guide in the crowd. There were a lot of
bioforms within, Terrans of various breeds and races, Naga, Gashg, Elves,
Veraxins, Telerites, and Talasians.

“It
appears that you need to get in line admiral,” Sprite informed him. He looked
at the long line winding its way through the place to servers dishing out mush
behind wooden counters. The iron pots of gruel didn't look very appealing.

“Bugger
that,” he said going over to a food replicator.

“It's
broke son. Best get in line,” an old Veraxin chittered.

“Well,
let's just see about that,” Irons said. He pulled the panel off and started
rooting around. He felt Proteus go to work. After a moment all the repairs he
could manage had been complete. “Clogged lines and some IT issues,” he said
putting the cover on.

“See?”
The Veraxin said. “Waste of time.” All four eyes blinked as Irons touched the
on patch and then selected a cup of coffee and an energy bar. The replicator
hummed for a moment then a cup of steaming liquid appeared. Irons took it and
sniffed.

“Metallic.
The tanks need to be purged and cleaned,” he said. He took a sip and grimaced
at the after taste. “Water line too,” he said. He put that on the list. The
entire filtration system probably needed to be cleaned and overhauled.

“My...
it works?” The Veraxin asked as people around then stopped and stared.

The
admiral looked over the cup as he took another cautious sip and shrugged
slightly. “Just needed a little TLC. Just because it's old doesn't mean it's
worthless,” Irons replied. He took one energy bar and handed it to the Veraxin.
The old Veraxin took it with his upper true claw. His lower hands were
withered. His right lower arm ended at the first elbow joint. His chitin was
faded and dry. It was cracked. From the sound of it he was well past his prime,
creaking and making crunching sounds as plates rubbed together. It was probably
painful to move. He had some malnutrition issues, as Veraxin’s grew older they
needed more boron supplements in their diet to maintain their exoskeleton.

“Thank
you lad,” the Veraxin said with a bob of a nod.

“You're
welcome,” he said. He pulled a second and third bar out and then a simple
sandwich and then turned looking for a seat.

Some
of the people glared at him. He hid a sigh until one of the human techs he
recognized waved him over to an empty table. “Take care,” he told the Veraxin
in passing. The Veraxin nodded again.

Irons
made it half way to the chair before he heard people murmuring around the
replicators. He turned to see one punch the display and order a drink. The
volunteer stuck a blue mug into the replicator and then waited as it filled. He
snorted as they gathered around to watch the volunteer take a sip.

“How'd
you do that?” The tech asked as he set his food down and then pulled the chair
away from the table. He looked back the way he came and then to the tech as he
sat. “I'm an engineer. Old habit. I like to fix things.”

“Oh.”

“Can
you show me?” the tech asked as Irons picked his sandwich up and took a bite.
Irons chewed thoughtfully and then nodded.

“Sure.
If we've got power. I can show you how to use a food replicator to make simple
parts too.”

“Really?”
the tech asked in disbelief.

“Yes.
I showed um....” Sprite helpfully projected a name. “Martha how in my shuttle a
couple of hours ago. Food replicators can replicate more than just well...
food.” He indicated the cheap thin plastic cup and then the plate.

The
young man studied both. Irons pocketed the energy bars in a breast pocket and
then pushed the small plate over to the young man. He watched eating the
sandwich as his fellow diner turned it over and over and then showed it to the
other patrons.

“It's
simple really. Plastic is one of the easiest items for a replicator to make.
Easier than food actually. It's all chemistry.”

“Huh.”

He
finished eating and then showed them how to repair food replicators in the
galley and explained how to apply what they learned to a few crew members. He
showed them how to replicate basic parts with them too.

“Someone
want to tell me why there is a power surge in Galley five?” the overhead
squawked.

“Who's
that?” Irons asked looking up.

“Ops,”
his fellow patron winced.

He
opened a channel. “This is admiral Irons. I've repaired some of the replicators
in this galley and I've been showing the crew how to use them and repair them.
Sorry for the surprise.”

“You've
been drawing a great deal of power. More than I've anticipated. Next time warn
me,” the bridge officer chittered in annoyance.

“You
can prioritize the power demand and ration it if necessary ops. Draw out the
replicator time as needed. It's annoying but understandable.” He looked around
the room. Some of the people were looking sheepish. The cook looked amused. The
server looked thoroughly confused.

“I'll
mind you to not tell my job. I know what I'm doing. Ops out,” the Veraxin told
him testily. Irons shrugged it off.

“If
any of you need the simple parts for the repairs to the ship I suggest you use
what I told you but do so sparingly,” he said to the room at large. He turned
to his dinner mate. “Thanks for the company son,” he said.