Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) (28 page)

“Red
is bad. Got it.”

“You
want to check every weld. You don't want a bad weld. That means something will
break in the future,” he cautioned.

“Are
you going to finish anytime soon?” a testy voice asked from the companionway.
Irons looked up and then shook his head.  From the sound of it a tech wanted
the space they were in.

“Working
on it. Finishing up now,” Irons called and then turned to the class. “So, weld.
Move around, grind smooth, again moving around, and scan the weld to make sure
it's proper. Any questions?” The class shook their heads. He looked at the
Veraxin. Jer'uk and her companions gave off signs of second or third level
agreement.

The
changes to the internal parts of the ship were making life interesting for the
passengers. Since they were doing it anyways, the chief and Numiria had taken
advantage of the dislocation to rearrange things. With the Admiral's help they
relocated the most commonly used quarters closer to the center line of the
ship. Stores of goods and materials that were not radiation sensitive were
placed in the outer hull areas.

The
changes made people a bit happier. Ever since their conversation the passengers
were nervous about being anywhere near the outer hull. They hadn't before, that
amused Irons. The chance of a breach or blow out had been on everyone's minds
for years but had been an accepted risk. The threat of radiation though... that
held a dread for all of them. He made another note to try to upgrade the
infirmary when he got the chance.

The
interesting thing was that they were putting a lot more design effort into the
accommodations. They were thinking it out this time, not throwing it together
as someone did centuries ago. Granted whoever had thought up this mess had been
a mad genius for it to last this long, but there were tons of rough edges. 
With a little foresight the barracks for instance had proper bathrooms and
lighting.

“Okay
people, let's go. We've held them up long enough. Next section you can tack and
weld on your own. I'll jump one ahead of you and then spot check you.”

“Test?”
Jer'uk asked.

“You're
all old enough and experienced enough to know a pass fail. You also know the
risks,” Irons replied as they moved out of the compartment.

“About
time,” an accusing voice said. Irons turned to the source. A cargo tech was
looking a bit annoyed. The class shifted about as the cargo techs started
moving in. Yvonne gave Irons a look.

“They
want to get some space back. Everyone's crowded.”

“Tell
me about it,” Yvonne said. With the changes to the internal parts of the ship
they were double bunking, or in her case hot bunking her hammock. Whoever was
using it when she was off shift didn't shower
nearly
often enough.

“Are
we really going to rebuild the interior like a passenger ship? With quarters for
everyone?” A student asked.

“We're
laying the ground work right now,” Irons replied, giving Yvonne an amused look.
That had been a bone of contention with the ops officer. He didn't see the need
for one full bathroom for every ten people on board the ship. “Unfortunately we
don't have the material to dress them out with plumbing and refreshers, let
alone vid screens and other things.”

“Frills,”
Yvonne said wrinkling her nose. It didn't quite sound convincing though. He was
fairly certain she wouldn't mind a few frills if she could have them.

“Something
like that,” Irons replied. He wouldn't like to live in a converted cargo bay
for most of his life. Now that the repairs were underway people were flocking
to some of the interior quarters that had been abandoned as unlivable. He'd had
to chase people out of his quarters twice. Cora had apologized each time. He'd
considered moving into his launch but then rejected it. Sleeping in the launch
was possible, but it was also busy 24/7. His replicators were in constant use
still.

“Once
we're finished here we'll knock off for dinner. Okay?” he asked. The class
nodded. “Good. Let's get with it people before the cargo people bury us in
boxes.”

Irons
was amused by the galley. Normally the food they grew was processed and then
either eaten right away or ground up and processed into a sludge and then fed
to the crew as porridge. Now that they had food replicators and working
recycling plants it was a bit different. Many people were overlooking the
porridge so the chefs didn't make as much. The fruit was frequently overlooked
as people made a run on the replicators.

To
compete the cooks were now cutting back on the porridge and introducing real
meals. For once they had the time to cook a proper meal and not a sludge that
was barely edible. They were making fruit salads and other salads. The
replicators couldn't deal with a salad the same as it could something simple.
They were making fruit sorbets and smoothies as well. It was interesting to
watch them adapt to the changes. He was curious to see if they started digging
out old recipe files and how well they would adapt to following them. Only time
as well as trial and error would tell.

The
next day he had a class on nanites. He used the repair of the broken
replicators as the hands on experience for them. They start with the broken one
near the shuttle bay that had the cancerous growth.

Fara,
Jen, and Martha had him explain a little about nanotech and its history. He
explained that nanites needed an external control node to function. “There is
only so much you can program into a molecular robot after all,” he said. They
nodded in not quite understanding. They were taking a lot of what he said on
faith since they didn't have the proper foundation.

What
he said was true... from a certain point of view. There were ways to store
information. He for instance had tons of information stored in molecular
circuitry... and strands of artificial DNA in artificial cells in his body. He
had an incredible amount of information stored within him, something he
couldn't admit to anyone. It was all a part of Trinity of course.

“Nanites
are a hive mind. You've got the basic dissemblers, and then the assemblers of
various sorts, and behind them both are the controllers. The queens. They hold
bits of the big picture and keep the nanite's coordination. They follow a
program,” he explained.

“And
we control the queens?” Fara asked wrinkling her nose.

“Yes.”

“One
of the things that bothered me was how they could pick things apart but didn't
accidentally do it to themselves,” Martha mused. “I always thought they had
some sort of radio beacon.”

The
admiral nodded. “Sometimes they do. By accident I mean,” Irons replied. “Or by
intent if they're self destructing. Yes they do have an IFF ID, an Identifying
beacon. They are programmed not to tear one another apart. But sometimes as
they work one gets ahead of another and it could be destroyed.”

“Oh.
Yeah what about that?”

“Coordination.
That's the answer to your question. The queen and hive mind. They coordinate
the actions of the nanites keeping order.” His hands held the small replicator.
He pulled the power cable. It was now dead. Proteus had taken the extra
precaution of releasing the self destruct command to the nanites in the pod
anyway. The nanites inside were inert sand.

“Ah,”
she said and nodded. He turned and set the pod down on a cart and then picked
up its replacement.

“A
single nanite can't store a great deal of information. But it can hold a piece
of a program. The problem is the program changes as a part is built. If you
kept nanites for every part of a program you'd need trillions of nanites for
every cubic centimeter. Not going to happen in the real world. So, the queens
receive their instructions from the machine interface. They then pass it on to
the simple minded bots that do the real work.”

As
he spoke his hands worked. His right arm had micro-manipulators out, pulling
cables apart or plugging them in. In a minute the pod was back in place. He
stepped back and watched as Martha gulped and stepped in holding a logic probe.
She probed the IT and then frowned. She glanced at him. He cocked his head.

“Bad
IT,” she said showing him the LCD.

He
nodded. He had deliberately left it in for her to find as a sort of test. “You
know what to do. Don't let me stop you,” he said. She nodded and started
pulling the electronics. In a few minutes it was all out and on the recycling
cart. Fara started handing her replacement parts starting with the motherboard.

“You
have nanites right?” Fara asked him after a quiet few minutes. Irons looked at
her. The class looked from her to him. After a moment he rumbled a sigh.

“What
makes you say that?” he asked.

“Because
I've seen what you can do. Not everything can be fixed with those
manipulators,” she said. She indicated his right arm.

“Correct.
Yes, I have nanites. I just replaced them.”

“Replaced
them?” Jen asked. She sounded genuinely curious and not appalled or scared.
Irons turned to her and shrugged as she paused with a board in her hand. Fara
reached out and tugged it out of her hands.

“Replaced.
When we were repairing the reactor... when it first went down I mean; I lost a
lot of nanites. Proteus used them to affect some of the repairs to the control
runs that we couldn't get to. But exposure to the radiation field forced them
to self destruct.”

“Oh.”

“I
couldn't bring them back to me either. It was a necessary sacrifice,” he said
in the ensuing silence. The silence turned thoughtful.

“Are
you sure they're all dead? And did you say you can make more? Wait... um...”

Irons
smiled and nodded. “Yes and yes. Yes they're dead. Proteus and Sprite confirmed
it. Yes I can make more. How is complicated and classified. Suffice to say it's
done and we're about done. Right?” he asked as Martha seated the last part and
started plugging in the cables. The optical date lines were dead easy; they
were color and shape coded.

“Just
about,” she said, plugging the power lines in and then reaching for the cover
plate.

“Not
quite. Run a diagnostic test again before you button it up. Always run a
diagnostic before you do a final close up. It saves having to open the thing
back up later if something's off.”

“Oh.”

“No
kinks in the feed lines? No air bubbles in them?” he asked.

“No?”
she said, sounding uncertain as she checked. Her hands felt the lineup. She
reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a pen light and a mirror. She
used the tools to look around and behind things and then up and down into the
cavities she couldn't see. “I don't see any.”

“Good.
When you start POST keep an eye out for any. Bubbles in the line are minor but
they can be a pain in the ass if the unit is sensitive. This is a Yukio niner
so yeah, it's fussy. If it senses a stop in the feed, either material or water
like oh say by a loss of vacuum because air is in the line then it locks up.”

“Is
that why I keep getting that error on deck eleven?” Jen asked. She'd tried to
use what she'd learned from the admiral to repair a replicator on her own. It
hadn't worked out quite well.

“Possibly,”
Irons said giving her an amused look. “We'll find out for sure though later.”

She
nodded, not looking at him as her hands played with the tool in her lap. Martha
watched her screen and then the screen on the replicator. She checked for air
in the lines, bleeding any air out that needed to be released. She wiped up the
materials that came out by accident and then nodded when all lights turned
green.

“Green
is good to go,” she said. She turned to Irons. “Are we ready to button her up?”
she asked. He nodded.

“Finally,”
Jen muttered. They put the panel in place and then as a last step Martha pushed
the test button and stepped back. The replication chamber glowed and then the
delivery platform began to glow a blue as well. After a moment a shot glass
appeared. She took it out and looked it over. “Looks good,” Jen said.

“Good.
Moving on then...”

Blackhawk
checked the countdown clock as he clocked in for his shift. Each shift was
different, they required concentration. Usually in the lower notes he could sit
back, talk, listen to people, even get up and stretch or get a cup of coffee in
a straight patch. Not in the higher notes though. Things were coming at you a
lot faster. You had to be on your toes and paying attention to avoid patches of
turbulence. It was a nice challenge from the boring day in and day out tedium
of the lower notes.

“Seventy
days to go,” he said. “No wait, sixty eight,” he corrected himself. He really
needed to get one of the replicator girls to go over the seats here. Or ask one
of the fabric people to make a better cover. The last one hadn't lasted a year
before it tore apart. Cheap Triang cotton.

“Yup,”
Mark said looking up quickly and then back to his screen. His hands moved on
the controls, steering them around a tangle. “Getting there,” he said.