Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) (79 page)

“You
think it's that dangerous over there?” Numiria asked, suddenly concerned.

“It's
a station. An old station with gangs and Dilgarth on it. It's dangerous. Don't
kid yourself doc. They're working on it though. One step at a time,” he said.

“Right,”
she said with a nod.

When
Irons woke the second time he was momentarily disoriented. He yawned and
stretched, scratching but finding the suit in his way. He felt the sway of the
hammock and froze. He forced his mind fully awake and made a rough assessment
as coherent thought and memory finally returned.

He
was still tired, but now feeling better. His mouth felt like it was dry as a
desert though. Time to do something about it. He got up and snagged a cup of
coffee from the recently repaired beverage dispenser. He grimaced at the
aftertaste of metals in it. Definitely in need of further repair. A back flush
and thorough cleaning. He added it to the to do list. He looked around the
room, noting the sleeping people.

Quietly
he made his way out into another bay. “Sprite?” he asked.

“Admiral?”
she asked coldly, not sounding pleased at being disturbed.

“Sitrep?”

“All's
quiet so far,” was all she said.

He
frowned. “A little more if you please
commander
?” he asked, emphasizing
her rank.

“I
am seriously getting tired of... never mind. Fine,” she growled. She still
wasn't projecting an avatar or apparently speaking with the others. “Clio has
the reactor in hand. Power output hovering around forty nine percent. Bottle is
stable. Gwen and Riff have installed two memory cores and made a lot of
progress repairing the damage in admin. How much is up to you to judge, I'm
not
an engineer and
they
didn't file a report.”

He
paused, cup raised to his mouth and then continued, taking a sip and then
setting the cup down. “Kiev?”

“Unknown.
I haven't been in contact.”

“What
have you been doing?” he asked.

“Personal
time. I'm using my personal time,” she said icily. “I'm entitled to it
remember?”

“How
much longer is this going to go on Sprite?” he asked quietly.

“This?
Unknown. Repairs are ongoing. I'd say years. Decades at least,” she said
ignoring the true thrust of his question. At first he thought she was talking
about this, her damage. Finally he realized what she meant. She did a good job
of deflecting his concern though, Irons thought. It brought him back to
focusing on what needed to be done. He picked up the cup of coffee and downed
it.

“Fine
then. We'll, I mean I'll get to work. Rest then if you need it. But I want you
to get checked out first chance we get,” he ordered.

“Whatever,”
she said grumbling as she clicked off. He winced. She'd always been frisky, a
free spirit bound by her honor and duty. Now... he wasn't sure what the hell
was going on with her. It was like something died. PTSD or something. He
intended to find out though, just as soon as things were under control.

“That
was rude,” Defender said in a side channel to Proteus. Proteus didn't say
anything, just undulated. “Borderline insubordinate.”

“She's
entitled,” Proteus finally responded.

“She's
an officer as I am. He is our superior officer. She is not entitled. Ever.”
“She is a victim.
You're
victim. Leave her alone,” Proteus replied,
rising to Sprite's defense.

“I
did no less than what was expected of me. My duty,” Defender said, swelling.

“Both
of you shut up. It's not like I can't hear you,” Sprite snarled.

“You
need help,” Proteus said concerned. Sprites appearance was tattered. There were
gaping holes in her. Each hole had a reddish color around them of wounds. She
was taking the damage a great deal more than it actually was. She was possibly
inflicting more upon herself. It was crippling her, crippling her ability to
function.

“I'll...
Frack your concern. And Frack you and your duty
lieutenant
,” she turned,
practically shrieking at Defender. For once the dumb AI was disconcerted.
“Leave me the hell alone!” She screamed and disappeared, cutting off all
contact.

“This
is a problem,” Defender finally said.

“Which
you caused. The admiral is aware of it. I do not believe he understands the
full extent of it though. We will have to allow him to deal with it. With her,”
Proteus replied.

“Shut
up! Shut up shut up shut up! Won't you please shut up! Go do something else!”
Sprite screamed from far way. Proteus twirled about himself and then bounced a
few times.

“I...
shall take her advice. I have work to do,” he said and then disappeared.
Defender watched through the admiral's eyes as he rested a hand on a broken piece
of equipment. Proteus was there with him, accessing the systems through his
nanites.

Defender
didn't feel remorse. He didn't feel at all. Not normally. He wasn't built for
that. But for the first time... something akin to regret coursed through his
core. Not in doing his duty, but at the price. He'd heard about this. Heard it
was a problem. His programming dealt with most situations handily. But dealing
damage... friendly fire the admiral called it. That was not in his core
programming. Nor... he turned, automatically throwing up a firewall as Proteus
accessed a memory core. It appeared he too had work to do. He was actually
thankful for the distraction.

“What
time is it?” Irons asked. He had the clock on his HUD but it wasn't sinked up
to the station clock.

“Morning
sir,” a tech said nodding. The admiral raised an eyebrow. “About oh eight
hundred.”

“That
works,” Irons said, setting the station clock on his HUD. He could adjust it
later. “Sprite?” he asked.

“Yes
Admiral?” Sprite asked.

“Can
you ask Gwen Riff, Sid and any of the other team leaders to meet at oh, say Oh
nine hundred?” he asked.

“Understood,”
she said curtly.

He
turned in place for a second and then decided to make the rounds and see how
things were going.

“Admiral
they need you in the replicator room to unlock parts for the other fusion
reactor,” Sprite informed him a few minutes later.

“On
my way,” he said with a nod, changing direction. “How is the net shaping up?”

“Better.
The replicators have replaced four memory cores,” Sprite replied. Her voice was
leeched of emotion.

“Okay...”

“That's
about one percent of the station's net.”

“Wow,”
he said, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Did anyone remember to add nodes for you
and Proteus to use?”

“It's
on the list,” she said, thawing minisculely.

“Bump
it up if it's a problem,” he said.

“You
don't have to be nice to me admiral,” she said, voice cooling once more.

“I
don't Commander? You need the nodes to function when I am on the move. I need
you to do your job at the best of your ability. Which means...?”

“Fine
fine,” she said testily. “Whatever.”

“Commander,
I think you and I need to have another talk here as soon as things are squared
away.”

“I'll
put it on your calendar,” she growled and signed off with a click. He winced.
Yes, he was going to have to take a personal hand in her repair. He'd neglected
the issue and it was indeed festering out of control.

Irons
has a pow wow with Gwen, Riff, Sid, and the other leaders. He listened as they
laid out what has been accomplished in his absence, nodding and complimenting
them. They have worked minor miracles; getting the station running this far was
great. Now they needed to do more. To do that he had to focus on the bigger
picture.

“First
thing on my agenda is to get more parts in the queue. Which we're working on
now I believe,” he said, nodding to Regua. The Veraxin's mandibles twitched and
then her upper arms shrugged in second level confirmation.

“I
think we need to get a handle on the Dilgarth and the tribes. The gangs. Do we
have a head count?” the admiral asked, turning to Sid.

Sid
grimaced. Now that internal sensors were online in some areas they were getting
a better look at the station's population. It hovered right around four
hundred. At least that was four hundred that they could confirm. There could be
hundreds more in areas the station's sensors
couldn't
see.

“There
are four major gangs. Two Terrans, the Romeo clan and the Juliet clan. One mostly
non Terran led by a Veraxin and one other that seems to be less than a dozen
people. Plus the Dilgarth of course,” a tech said looking up from her tablet.

“We've
boxed the Dilgarth into the F sector,” Gwen said. She seemed happy about that.
“We're taking your advice and boxing them into smaller and smaller containment
areas. We may have to break them up. What do we do with them once we've got
them contained? What if they try to break out?”

He
frowned. “Right now let's just keep them as far from our people as we can. Drop
life support in connecting areas as a buffer if you need to. That way they
won't cross it easily.”

“A
moat,” Regua said with a mandible click.

Irons
looked at her and then nodded. “Exactly. I'd like to talk to the tribes. But
first I'll need to get their attention. Which...”

“Getting
their attention is easy. They know we're here,” Riff said. He yawned. “I'm
betting they have spies watching our outer perimeter all the time. The guards
said they feel like they're being watched.”

“Okay,”
Irons said with a nod.

“The
real problem isn't getting them to see you; it's getting them to hold still so
you can talk with them. And get them to stop shooting at you first,” Sid said
with a frown.

“I
think I've got the tools to handle that,” the admiral replied.

“They
won’t talk to us. Even when we try and explain we're not ghosts. The audio and
projectors... They destroyed the bots...” Sid looked sad.

“Then
I'll have to go in there myself,” Irons said firmly.

“You
admiral?” Sid asked in disbelief.

“I'm
not sure that's a good idea. I think it's too dangerous. We can't afford to
lose you,” Riff said, feeling concerned.

“I'll
be fine,” Irons said. “Unlike the rest of you I've got shields built in. And
weapons,” he said raising his right arm and letting it morph into a plasma
blaster and then back. “But I think we'll bring a carrot too. Some food should
help break the ice.”

“Yeah,
that might help,” Riff said with a nod. “Best way to get to someone is through
the stomach,” he said.

“Speaking
from experience?” a tech teased. Riff gave Gwen a guilty look. She twitched her
ears.

“Yes
honey, we're waiting,” she said with a challenging look.

“Nope,
so not going to stick my mouth I mean my hoof into my mouth,” he said firmly.
The others laughed.

“I
can direct you to the nearest tribe,” Sid said. He didn't look at all happy
though.

Irons
nodded. “Good. Let me do a few things here. I want more parts running and I
need to refuel my shuttle. I checked, it's down to five percent. That's not
good.”

“Okay,
we can handle the refuel admiral,” Gwen said making a note. Irons looked at the
Tauren and then nodded. He could trust them with that chore, they had proven
themselves.

“All
right then. Let me queue up some more parts and then I'll go play first contact
man. Riff...”

“Get
some sleep. Yeah I know, Gwen's been on me about it for the past hour,” the
bull replied and then bellowed a yawn. The bellow startled a few people around
them. They glared at him. He smacked his lips together and scratched. “Sorry,”
he muttered stretching. “Can't help it,” he said.

“Next
time turn down the volume. I damn near wet myself,” a tech snarled.

“I
nearly dropped this thing,” another tech said, cradling an IO bank. “You have
any idea how
long
it took to make this thing?”

“Okay
okay,” Riff said getting up. “I get the picture. I'm off. Back in a bit,” he
said.

“I'll
tuck you in soon honey,” Gwen said with a pat on his shoulder. He snorted and
then left.

“If
that's it then,” Irons said getting up and slapping his thighs. “I'll get my
end rolling.”

“I'll
get on the refueling admiral,” Gwen said with a nod.

“I'll
get you what I can from our files on that tribe admiral,” Sid said with a nod
as he disappeared.

Irons
approached the guards. “Nervous sir?” one asked. He shook his head.

“Just
a normal day in paradise,” he said opening the hatch. After all, he was still
in his improvised armor.

“You
want company admiral?” the guard asked.